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Thy Father’s Instruction: Reading the Nuremberg Miscellany as Jewish Cultural History [Illustrated]
 3110354217, 9783110354218

Table of contents :
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Contents
Transliteration
Frequently Used Abbreviations
Introduction: Text, Image, and Message
Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany
Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany
Chapter 3 The Decorative Scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany
Chapter 4 The Nuremberg Miscellany as a Cultural-Historical Document
Chapter 5 Moralistic and Homiletic Legacy
Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions
Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs
Chapter 8 Ḥanukkah
Chapter 9 Getting Married in Ashkenaz
Chapter 10 A New Jewish Life
Chapter 11 Home Liturgies for Festivals
Conclusion
List of Figures
Glossary
Bibliography
Index
Appendix

Citation preview

Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig Thy Father’s Instruction

Studia Judaica

Forschungen zur Wissenschaft des Judentums Begründet von Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Herausgegeben von Günter Stemberger, Charlotte Fonrobert, Elisabeth Hollender, Alexander Samely und Irene Zwiep

Band 79 Rethinking Diaspora Edited by Stefan C. Reif, Simha Goldin, Nahem Ilan and Andreas Lehnardt

Volume 2

Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig

Thy Father’s Instruction

Reading the Nuremberg Miscellany as Jewish Cultural History

The subseries Rethinking Diaspora is published on behalf of the Goldstein-Goren Diaspora Research Center, Tel Aviv University.

ISBN 978-3-11-035421-8 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-041419-6 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-041428-8 Library of Congress Control Number: 2020951063 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2022 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Typesetting: Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

‫ּתֹורת ִא ֶּמָך‬ ַ ‫ּתּטֹׁש‬-‫ל‬ ִ ‫מּוסר ָא ִביָך וְ ַא‬ ַ ‫ְׁש ַמע ְּבנִ י‬ '‫ ט‬,‫משלי א‬ To my parents, Dina ‫ ז"ל‬and Moshe Michael Feuchtwanger ‫יבל"א‬ For guiding me through my journey in life All that I am I owe to your giving, your love, and your legacy In your living memory, with endless love

Acknowledgements Writing a book commands an immeasurable amount of conviction. While studying the wonders of the Nuremberg Miscellany, I was blessed, time and again, with encouragement from so many people, near and far, who were available whenever I sought their help or advice, and who have shared my enthusiasm for the manuscript and its marvels. The present study could not have seen the light of day without the support of several institutions, which not only believed in me as a scholar, but also granted me the financial help that provided me with carefree time to conduct the research for this book. First, my deepest thanks go to the Goldstein-Goren Diaspora Research Center at Tel Aviv University and its director, Prof. Simha Goldin, who recruited me to conduct my study under the aegis of the Center. The Jewish Art and Visual Culture Research Project within the Goldstein-Goren Center has been my home-away-from-home, and the Mehlman Library of the Center, headed by Evelyn Ofer and her successor Sofia Tels-Abramov, has been a treasure trove of countless invaluable resources. Many thanks go to Prof. Goldin for his conviction that visual culture in general and the Nuremberg Miscellany in particular, have a legitimate place in the historical span of research at the Center. Ora Azta and the entire administrative team at the Center have spared no effort to walk me through official and technical issues that came along the way and deserve every word of gratitude. My very special appreciation is extended to Sara Appel, Center’s Senior Administrative Assistant, and to the Conference and Publications Coordinator, Adi Moskovitz (and, in her brief absence, Roni Gamlieli). Their constant succour, encouragement and sound advice compare only to their endless support towards the publication of this book with patience, wisdom, and competence. Two post-doctoral fellowships have sustained this research and have had an immense impact on it. In 2005–2006, I spent a most enriching year at the Center for Advanced Judaic Studies (now known as the Katz Center) at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, under the direction of Prof. David Ruderman. The inspiring intellectual encounters with colleagues, each studying a different aspect of the Hebrew book, have deepened my understanding of its physical attributes, illustrations, readership, and beyond. The 2009–2010 Frankel Center for Advanced Judaic Studies fellowship at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, under Prof. Deborah Dash Moore, brought me together with stimulating scholars focusing on material culture. Discussing with them the materiality of objects and artefacts within the setting of their cultural background added new insights and perspectives to my researcher toolbox. A grant from the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture has made it possible for me to enjoy the world of scholarship, and specifically enabled me to relish the https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-202

VIII 

 Acknowledgements

intimate encounter with the incredible Nuremberg Miscellany. The Foundation’s encouragement and financial support for this study from its inception through its realisation merit my highest appreciation. Additional support, received from The World Union of Jewish Studies, is a token of recognition of the importance of my research on the intriguing, yet fascinating Miscellany and of its importance for our knowledge of the history and culture of Early Modern Ashkenaz. Without this contribution, the visual appearance of the book with its numerous color images would not be the same. I further wish to recognise also my teachers, colleagues, and friends for making their scholarship available to me through their learned publications. Reading and learning from their contributions to the vast field of Hebrew illuminated manuscripts, Jewish history, minhag, and Jewish culture and ethnography was an uplifting experience. Standing on the shoulders of giants, I consider it a great honour that scholars I know personally and greatly admire for their work authored so many of the works cited in the bibliography of this present study. While it is always a pleasure to meet old friends in person, knowing them also through their scholarship was a unique experience. Many of them were not even aware of my research on the Nuremberg Miscellany, but their indirect help made the bibliographic references a feast celebrated with friends. Other colleagues have not spared their time, effort, and above all, their infinite knowledge to enlighten, expand, and offer new insights on various issues that arose during the research. My most sincere acknowledgements are due, primarily, to the directors and curators of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. The first stages of this study benefitted from generous permissions and support of the then library director, Dr. Eberhard Slenzca and, after his retirement, of its current director, Dr. Johannes Pommeranz. When the dream of publishing this research began to become reality, Prof. Dr. Habil. Ulrich Großmann, former director general of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, gave it his blessing and reiterated the museum’s commitment to it. The erudition of the museum curators, who made themselves available at all times, was also of infinite help. Special thanks go to my esteemed colleagues, the curators Dr. Frank P. Bär, Dr. Petra Krutisch, Dr. Ralf Schürer, and Dr. Claudia Selheim. Last, but not least, many thanks to the staff of the museum photographic services, notably Ms. Bianca Hendl-Slowik, which provided every possible help towards the publication of this book. Sharing this journey with friends who are at the same time colleagues and leading scholars in their fields was a special privilege. Prof. Michael Signer,  of blessed memory, viewed the manuscript for the last time shortly before his untimely passing, suggesting new and invaluable insights. Prof. Jean Baumgarten, Prof. Stephen G. Burnett, Rabbi Dr. Joab Eichenberg-Eilon, Prof. Marc Michael Epstein,

Acknowledgements 

 IX

Prof. Dr. Elisabeth Hollender, Dr. Andreas Lehnertz, Rabbi Dr. Joseph Isaac Lifshitz, Dr. Andreas Lehnertz, Prof. Dr. Emile G. L. Schrijver, and Dr. Ilona Steimann have all proved the value of collegiality and the wealth of sharing their vast knowledge beyond description. Throughout this long and challenging path, the greatest contribution came from my beloved husband, Dr. Ya'acov Sarig. Sharing an office in our home proved to be an extraordinary experience on every level. Offering endless encouragement and support, adding new insights, offering useful suggestions to improve the text, and—no less important—taking over most of the household chores, he created the space and time for uninterrupted work and provided me with the peace-ofmind that made this publication possible. My sister, Dalia Karplus-Feuchtwanger, was my source of inspiration for English style, sharp editorial observations, and clarity of thought, which guided me in laying my own arguments down in writing. Valuable textual insights were offered by Rabbi Dr. Joab Eichenberg-Eilon, and his transliteration suggestions have become a welcomed part of this book. The finely mastered editorial skills of Shirley Zauer contributed significantly to the flow and readability of the text. Last, but not at all least: my precious children Yuval and Ronni, the spark of my life and my treasured source of joy, deserve more than an expression of gratitude. Their youth notwithstanding, they supported this endeavour with words, smiles, and encouragement beyond any limit and wrapped me with their love. My ongoing contacts with De Gruyter publishing house have proved to be a professional joy. All my dealings with the publisher have met with endless support. Special thanks go to Alice Meroz, Content Editor, and Anne Hirschelmann, Production Editor, as well as to the typesetter, graphic artist, and others whose committed work behind the scenes is evidenced in every page of the book. The invaluable comments and suggestions offered by all my friends and colleagues have contributed greatly to this study. For any errors and omissions, however, I take full responsibility.

Foreword For more than 400 years, the Nuremberg Miscellany awaited its due recognition as a masterpiece of Jewish visual culture. Its unassuming format, simple cardboard secondary binding, and naïvely executed illustrations attracted little attention from scholars, though certainly not enough for anyone to dedicate an entire monograph to its iconographically rich, often enigmatic illustrations. Something about it, perhaps its modesty, struck a chord in my heart nearly thirty-five years ago. It was love-at-first-sight, which matured and ripened along the years until the time has come for its realisation. Little did I know then what I have recently discovered: that the progenitor of the family of proprietors of the Nuremberg Miscellany, Eli'ezer Abraham, father of Simeon and of Jacob of the Günzburg family, born in 1477 in Porto, in the Veneto region of Italy, was my fourteenth great-grandfather! As a child, I often visited the Bezalel Museum in Jerusalem, the forerunner of the present Israel Museum. One particular object on display aroused my curiosity. It was a pink sandstone slab, carved and decorated with an eight-pointed star, two cornucopia and several Hebrew letters in relief. Its caption read “marriage stone” from Bingen on the Rhine, dated 1700, and the brief comment explained that in that region it was customary for the bridegroom to shatter the glass against such a “marriage stone” as part of the wedding ceremony (see Figure 1).1

Figure 1: Ḥuppah stone (Traustein), Bingen (Germany), 1700 [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 199/022; B66.09.1409, Gift of the Bingen Municipality through the Jewish community of Cologne, Germany] (Photo by Elie Posner)

1 Ḥuppah stone (Traustein), Bingen (Germany), 1700 [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 199/022; (B66.09.1409, Gift of the Bingen Municipality through the Jewish community of Cologne, Germany)]. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-203

XII 

 Foreword

The stone from Bingen am Rhein was included in the exhibition “Monumenta Judaica: 2000 Jahre Geschichte und Kultur der Juden am Rhein,” shown in Cologne in 1963–1964. The brief catalogue entry no. E154 sheds little light on the unique custom pertaining to this stone. In the mid-1980s, I finally began to decipher this enigma thanks to a text—rather than an illustration—in the Nuremberg Miscellany. In the manuscript, I found the clue to the exhibit that had perplexed me since my childhood. As an art-historian, I was more inclined to look for visual clues. Finding a textual allusion for a visualphysical artefact led me to focus my research on cultural history. With this perspective in mind, I ventured into the process of unraveling the cognitive iconographic creative process of the Nuremberg Miscellany’s artist. The challenge was to enter the secret of his inner world. After the obvious steps of studying the apparently clear questions, namely what is the object of our observation and who are the protagonists, a third question emerged, namely why the artist inserted a particular image in a certain composition and specific iconography within the complete decorative scheme. This last question proved to be not only exceptionally rewarding but also a challenging and intriguing one in this journey. It necessitated an in-depth examination of the text-image relationship of each individual image and a probe into the pattern of associations between the verbal and the visual throughout the manuscript. Often, I was under the impression that the artist’s choices of visual material drew more on his inner cultural world than on Jewish textual tradition in general and the manuscript’s text in particular. The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was by no means a passive player deferring to a patron and relying on model books for his visual vocabulary; he followed his eyes, knowledge, and original phantasy alone. This was an extraordinary task in my attempt to interpret the images, their iconographic reading, and, furthermore—their social, religious, and cultural context. Delving into every image in the manuscript, layer after layer of insight emerged, leading to a clearer understanding of the artist’s mind. This process of deciphering was by far the most gratifying aspect of the excursion through the Miscellany. Over the course of time, it became clear that the most imperative task was to become acquainted with the artist and his cultural milieu. In the process of revealing him as an artist and an educated person, his breadth of knowledge, both as a man-ofthe-world and as a literate Jew, his rich associative universe, and even his refined sense of humour became more and more apparent. Penetrating the inner world of this amazingly multifarious man was the greatest reward of this research. Consequently, sharing this journey of exploration among the images became more important than treating the manuscript monolithically. The purpose of the analysis was to retrace the artist’s cognitive-conceptual process, which resulted in this visual and iconographic wealth intertwined with wisdom and wit.

Foreword 

 XIII

My love for this manuscript would not have been possible without the spirit of my late grandfather, Dr. Heinrich Feuchtwanger. A dentist and a true lover of Jewish art and visual culture, he, along with a group of other professionals and enthusiasts, passionately collected and documented, in the 1920s and 1930s, relics of the Jewish past in Southern Germany. Together they searched for these visual remnants in the then already desolate small Jewish communities, shovelling through the dust of ages in their synagogue attics, and recording, photographing, drawing, and measuring every cherished memento. To them these were living remains, testimonials of the rural communities that had once flourished in Bavaria, Swabia, and other extinct places of Jewish settlement. Some of the artefacts eventually ended up in my grandfather’s Judaica collection, the largest of its kind at the time. Others found their way, through his agency, to the Bezalel Museum in Jerusalem, including the Bingen marriage stone. The backdrop of my childhood was one overflowing with artefacts of Jewish tradition. My grandparents’ home in Jerusalem was replete with Jewish ritual objects and adornments of Jewish folk art. Cabinets lined the walls displaying articles made of silver and parchment, glass and clay, tin and fine fabrics. Many of them were very valuable, but their real importance lay in the stories behind them and their provenance. It was quite normal for my grandfather to use an eighteenth-century kiddush goblet to welcome Shabbat, or for me to sit on a circumcision bench from his collection. Both—like hundreds of other relics— enjoyed love and reverence in the home of Heini (Heinrich) and Henni (Henriette) Feuchtwanger as the setting for all our family events. Appointed acting curator of Judaica of the Bezalel Museum after the death of its founding director, Mordechai Narkiss, Grandfather visited the museum daily, including every Shabbat. Eventually, the entire family followed, and thus, along with the playground and school, the Bezalel Museum became part of my early life and the artefacts were my close friends. I owe much of my vocational choices to my grandfather. He was only sixty-five years old when he died and I was too young to savour his knowledge and expertise, but probably not too young to absorb his enthusiasm and intellectual curiosity at the sight of an old wooden mezuzah, a silver amulet, or a parchment Esther Scroll. This is how my love of Jewish visual culture was born. My maternal grandfather, Advocate Mordechai Levanon, played a very different role in my life. Attorney and judge, he was my model of an intellectual and a Jewish scholar, tirelessly studying another page of Talmud, another biblical exegesis, or another midrash, while equally inquisitive about all the secular sciences. He was as familiar with the Jewish Bible as with the Christian Scriptures and the Quran. Over ninety years old, already conversant in nine languages, he was determined to teach himself yet another. He read every printed word on a

XIV 

 Foreword

scrap of paper that lay in front of him, unable to quench his thirst for erudition. From him I learned perseverance and true humanism, but above all, the love and appreciation for our religious and intellectual heritage. My parents raised me to seek knowledge everywhere. My father, Prof. Moshe Michael Feuchtwanger, is a role model for intellectual wealth ranging from music and history to his profession, medicine, and surgery, his specialty. My late mother, Dina ‫ ז"ל‬née Levanon, an educator by profession and social worker by vocation, was a true mater familias, my paradigm for the values of truthfulness, honesty, and unmatched integrity. Together they taught me to challenge my intellectual capacity, to seek new horizons, to broaden and deepen my scope of interest, to strive for academic accuracy, and to show excellence in any endeavour. I am grateful to them for my quest of scholarship. This book is a token of my love and appreciation for them and for their encouragement. Entering the groves of academia, I was fortunate to have come under the tutelage of the finest teacher and mentor, Prof. Bezalel Narkiss ‫ז"ל‬. A vessel of incredible understanding and knowledge, studying and working under him was as challenging as it was fulfilling. With awe, he introduced me to the fascinating world of illuminated manuscripts. The embellishments, micrographic images, and text illustrations found in a manuscript still excite me as in my first probes into research. Through Prof. Narkiss, I learned not only to see the physical book with its quires, script, and illuminations. Looking beyond the immediately comprehensible, he taught me to view the embellishments as texts, reflecting a world gone by, which was a mélange of religious belief, customs, and history. He was overjoyed with the Nuremberg Miscellany and my research project, but regretfully did not live to see its fruition. His death in 2008 left me, like so many other students and colleagues of his, feeling like an orphaned child. God rest his soul.

Contents Acknowledgements  Foreword 

 VII

 XI

Transliteration 

 XIX

Frequently Used Abbreviations 

 XXII

Introduction: Text, Image, and Message 

 1

Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 10

Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany  The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period   25 The Nuremberg Miscellany and the Art of the Hebrew Book   34 The Nuremberg Miscellany: A Unique Compilation   44 Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany   47 Chapter 3 The Decorative Scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany  Biblical Scenes   55 Genre Scenes Portraying Minhag   55 The Jewish Year   55 Life Cycle Themes   56 Arches and Opening Pages: Moralistic Images   56 Marginalia and Miniature Images   57 Decorated Initial Letters and Words   57 Separators   60 Ink Drawings as Indicators   61

 54

Chapter 4 The Nuremberg Miscellany as a Cultural-Historical Document  A Methodological Statement   64

 64

 22

XVI 

 Contents

Chapter 5 Moralistic and Homiletic Legacy   68 Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy   68 Homiletic Discourse: Framing a Textual Unit   89 The Elephant-Borne Archway   93 The Archway and the Coronet   111 The Anthropomorphic Luminaries   114 Abraham and the Heavenly Guests: The Paragon of Hospitality  The Protagonists and the Stage-Setting   122 Backdrop to the Events    128 The Mystical Tree   135 A Royal Repast   141 Abraham’s Guests   147 The Oracle Heavenly Tree   153 Unicorn: Harbinger of Parenthood   158 Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions  A Psalm of David   164 Reciting the Benediction over Bread   171 On Wine, Its Vices and Virtues   178 Spectacles, a Sword, and a Fish   186 The Course of Time: The Hourglass   190 Pelican, Squirrel, and Saw   197 Apotropaic Fist   201 Sanctification of the New Moon   204 Judith and Holofernes   210 The Horse of the Purim Story   219 Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs   223 A Key for Shabbat   223 Kiddush for Shabbat   231 Swans for the Shabbat Meal   244 Hand of Dispute   246 Fish for Shabbat   248 Havdalah   250 Vines for Havdalah   263

 164

 122

Contents 

Chapter 8 Ḥanukkah   267 Barking Foe   267 The Ḥanukkah Feast 

 269

Chapter 9 Getting Married in Ashkenaz   279 Entourage of the Bride and the Groom   279 Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy   289 Dancing for the Bride and Groom   329 Chapter 10 A New Jewish Life   349 Entering the Covenant of Circumcision  Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth   373 Chapter 11 Home Liturgies for Festivals  Jacob and Esau   397 Kapparot   414

 438

List of Figures   453

Bibliography  Index 

 397

 419

Conclusion 

Glossary 

 349

 462

 511

Appendix: The Nuremberg Miscellany Reproduced 

 523

 XVII

Transliteration As a Semitic language, Hebrew has a consonantal alphabet with vowels implied or added on as diacritical marks. Most consonants have equivalents in European languages. Hebrew vowels are the equivalents of ah, eh, ee, oh, and oo. Their transliteration is a, e, i, o, and u. For each sound there are between two and five different diacritical marks, representing a historical differentiation between short and long vowels. In addition, there is a special diacritic, the shva, which is either silent or vocal, pronounced like a very brief eh. In this book, the spelling of the shva follows current Israeli pronunciation. Hebrew does not distinguish between nuances of the five pure sounds, such as between “a” as in “bar” and in “bat.” Some letters (‫ ו‬,‫ )י‬serve both as consonants (y=‫י‬, v=‫ )ו‬and as vowels (ee=‫ִי‬, ohֹ=‫ו‬, ooּ=‫)ו‬. Some Hebrew letters have two modes of pronunciation, aspirated (v=‫ב‬, kh=‫כ‬, f/ph=‫ )פ‬and non-aspirated (b=‫ּב‬, k=‫ּכ‬, p=‫)ּפ‬. Also, some consonants are represented by more than one letter, as a relic of the distant past, when they were differently pronounced. The transliteration for the k-sounding letters is k=‫ ּכ‬and q=‫ק‬. For t-sounding letters the transliteration here is t=‫ ת‬and ṭ=‫ט‬. While the letters ‫ ח‬and ‫ כ‬have the same pronunciation in Modern Hebrew, their differentiation among some people originating in Arab and Mediterranean countries is in the process of disappearing. Their pronunciation is similar to “ch” in the German “acht” or English “loch,” and their transliteration is kh=‫ כ‬and ḥ=‫ח‬. Hebrew has letters for consonants that are “invisible” in European languages: the air stoppage in syllables that seem to begin with a vowel. Like ḥ and kh, their differentiation is disappearing in Modern Hebrew, but transliteration maintains the distinction between them as ‘ before the vowel for ‫ א‬and ' before the vowel for ‫ע‬. Thus, for example, the word ‫( ִעיר‬city) will be transliterated as “'ir” and the word ‫ אֹור‬will be transliterated as “‘or.” The consonants ‫ א‬and ‫ ה‬are mostly silent when in the terminal position. In order to distinguish between the letters that create the “ah” sound, the terminal ‫א‬ will not be transliterated, while an “h” will be appended to words ending in ‫ה‬. Doubling of consonants in the transliteration occurs when the Hebrew original contains a dagesh ḥazaq (literally “strong dot,” often referred to as “geminating dagesh,” or “dagesh forte”). The dagesh ḥazaq is a diacritic vocalisation mark that may occur in most letters of the Hebrew alphabet. In transliteration, the dagesh doubles the letter in which it appears. Some Hebrew prepositions (-‫ מ‬,-‫ ל‬,-‫ ּכ‬,-‫ )ּב‬and particles, including the definite article (-‫ )ה‬and conjunctive vav (-‫ )ו‬are not discrete words but prefixes. Their transliteration will appear in lowercase letters followed by a part of speech beginhttps://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-205

XX 

 Transliteration

ning with an upper case letter. For example, the word ‫( ַה ֶּמ ֶלך‬the king) will appear, unhyphenated, as haMelekh. For some Hebrew terms there are accepted conventions in modern scholarship. This study will follow those conventions rather than adhere to the described transcription rules. The transliteration rules applied in this work do not relate to Hebrew words that appear in citations from other sources. In this case, the original orthography remains unaltered. Transliteration Table Consonants

Vowels

Name

Notation

Letter

Sound

Notation

with ‫ א‬or Letter

‘Aleph



‫א‬

bar

a

‫ ֲא‬,‫ ַא‬,‫ָא‬

get

e

)‫(א‬ ְ ,‫ ֱא‬,‫ ֶא‬,‫ֵא‬

zoo

u

‫ אּו‬,‫ֻא‬

loch

o

‫ אֹו‬,‫ ָא‬,‫ ֳא‬,ֹ‫א‬

i

‫ ִאי‬,‫ִא‬

Bet (dagesh)

Bb

‫ּב‬

Vet

Vv

‫ב‬

Gimel

Gg

‫ג‬

Dalet

Dd

‫ד‬

He

Hh

‫ה‬

Vav

Vv

‫ו‬

Zayin

Zz

‫ז‬

Ḥet

Ḥḥ

‫ח‬

Ṭet

Ṭṭ

‫ט‬

Yod

Yy

‫י‬

Kaf

Kk

‫ ּך‬,‫ּכ‬

Khaf

KH kh

‫ ך‬,‫כ‬

Lamed

Ll

‫ל‬

Mem

Mm

‫ ם‬,‫מ‬

Nun

Nn

‫ ן‬,‫נ‬

go

loch

see

loch

Transliteration 

Samekh

Ss

‫ס‬

'Ayin

'

‫ע‬

Peh

Pp

‫ ּף‬,‫ּפ‬

Pheh

Ff

‫ ף‬,‫פ‬

Ẓadi

Ẓẓ

‫ ץ‬,‫צ‬

Qof

Qq

‫ק‬

Resh

Rr

‫ר‬

Shin

SH sh

‫ׁש‬

Sin

Ss

‫שׂ‬

Tav

Tt

‫ת‬

Deep ‫א‬

bits

 XXI

Frequently Used Abbreviations Ara. b. BT Cod. Fol. Fols. Fr. Ger. GNM Gr. Heb. JT Lat. Lit. M MS MSS NLI Par. Pl. Plur. R. Sing. Yid.

Aramaic ben (Heb.), bar (Ara.) = son [of] (patronymic) Babylonian Talmud Codex Folio Folios French German Germanisches Nationalmuseum Greek Hebrew Jerusalem Talmud Latin Literally (used when translating non-English words) Mishnah Manuscript Manuscripts National Library of Israel (formerly JNUL – Jewish National and University Library) Parashah (Heb.) = section, pericope Plate, Planche (Fr.) Plural Rabbi Singular Yiddish

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-206

Introduction: Text, Image, and Message The interrelationship between text and image in illuminated manuscripts has long been the subject of conversation. The supremacy of the one over the other was, and is to this day, a major point of argument among scholars. The main concerns in these discussions are the perception of the message, the effectiveness of its transmission, and the target audience. The world of imagery is like a kaleidoscope, with endless possibilities of interpretation and representation. When depicting a “story,” the artist can choose to create a composition and iconography to his or her liking. The visual rendering is often subjective—though much less so in the Middle Ages—using artistic conventions and model books.1 In most books, the hierarchy is clear: the text is the master, the image is its slave. Conversely, in picture books, the opposite is true: the image is master, and the text is there mainly to help understand what the image conveys. A very different relationship exists in illuminated manuscripts. Here, the narrative and the image are typically closely knit, and the illustrations, or at least most of them, have a direct bearing on the text.2 Illustrations are adjacent to the text, or remain within close proximity to the relevant passage in it. They complement it by adding a visual dimension to the account, thus augmenting and enriching the textual message conveyed to the reader-beholder.3 “The easiest way of conveying thoughts and messages, is through pictures that transcend linguistic boundaries,” says Michelle P. Brown in The British Library Guide to Writing and Scripts.4 While this may well be the case in some cultural contexts, the interpretation of an image is culture-bound and therefore not universally and unequivocally intelligible outside that context; in Brown’s words: “. . .

1 On the use of model books in the Middle Ages as agents of iconographic transferral of ideas and beliefs, including an extensive study and catalogue of medieval model books, see Robert W. Scheller, Exemplum: Model-Book Drawings and the Practice of Artistic Transmission in the Middle Ages (ca. 900–ca. 1470), trans. Michael Hoyle (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1995). 2 A distinction should be made between “illustrations” that display an iconographic charge and “decorations,” which are fanciful embellishments of a neutral nature with no relevance to the text. 3 Patricia Basing, describing and illustrating the interdependence between text and image in her Trades and Crafts in Medieval Manuscripts (London: The British Library, 1990), 15, correctly singles out the textual marginalia that began appearing in manuscripts as of the thirteenth century and became widespread in subsequent centuries, whose bearing on the text is often remote. 4 Michelle P. Brown, The British Library Guide to Writing and Scripts. History and Techniques (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), 12. See her chapter on “Why Writing,” 7–49, in which she describes various forms of interaction between “thought, sound, word and image.” https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-001

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advanced systems of image-based communication require an underlying system of reference, as does writing.”5 In the case of communication through images without an accompanying text, the artist faces an enormous challenge. Limited by nature of his skill, the artist must perform an act that is by far more demanding than that of the writer. In every image, he must convey both fact or narrative and interpretation. His account is visual, and therefore static. It does not occur along time and space, but it ought to contain reference to both, within a confined nutshell. Though expressed visually, the work of art is lacking vocal elements, contemplations and sentiments, as well as changing live facial expressions and bodily movements that “can amplify, modify, confirm, or subvert verbal utterance,” as stated by Sir Keith Thomas in his introduction to Jan Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg’s A Cultural History of Gesture, published in 1991.6 Narrowing the scope of discussion in terms of geography and chronology, Jean-Claude Schmitt notes that profound changes in religious life, the growth of mysticism, and an increasingly complex society in Europe substantially redefined the role and meaning of gesture by the late Middle Ages. In this sense, the medieval vocabulary of gesture was much richer. New definitions evolved in terms of society, theology, ritual, and the arts, thereby confirming St. Augustine’s earlier distinction between superstitious and legitimate gesture and broadening the scope of both beyond the traditional realm of gesticulations.7 Every oral discourse draws, primarily, on a message or an idea. The narrator transmits it by the word and its lexical meaning, as well as by his intonation, gesticulation, and mimicry. A visually portrayed dialogue, on the other hand, lacks these live constituents, and must suffice with the image, possibly an artistic interpretation of a concrete or abstract nature.8 It is important to note, though,

5 Ibid., 1. 6 Keith Thomas, “Introduction,” A Cultural History of Gesture from Antiquity to the Present Day, ed. Jan Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1992), 6. One of the pioneering works on gesture in art is the study by Ernst H. Gombrich, “Ritualized Gesture and Expression in Art,” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B 251, no. 772 (1966): 393–401. See further Max S. Kirch, “Non-Verbal Communication Across Cultures,” The Modern Language Journal 63, no. 8 (1979): 416−423. 7 Jean-Claude Schmitt, La raison des gestes dans l’Occident mediéval (Paris: Gallimard, 1990), offers an important contribution to the history of gesture and its relationship to the artist’s role in conveying a non-verbal message to the beholder. See especially 59–70. 8 André Chastel discusses the importance of physiognomy and gestures in conveying a visual message in Renaissance art in his Le geste dans l’art (Paris: Edition Liana Levi, 2001). His essay includes a bibliographic survey of some major works pertaining to theory on gestures, found in 18–22.

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that it is the weakness of literacy—or rather illiteracy—which predominated in Western society up to modern times and rendered the image in all its components so important for the simple folk.9 In a way, we still abide by some gestures, whose origins lie in medieval conventions. Such are, for example, the handshake, or the salute. Having become norms, gestures may be included in the iconographic vocabulary of its society and thus become an integral component of the artist’s visual language. Through explicit choice of iconographic detail, composition, and colour, the artist adds to his work deeper meanings that, however, leave it open to subjective reading of the beholder. Interpretation of a work of art is spectatorcentred and hence inherently subjective: it is a blend of the historical, social, and cultural background of the artist on the one hand, and of the observer on the other. Nonetheless, in the case of text illustrations, we can assume that, typically, the artist is the one who chooses which episodes to depict, presumably those that he/she considers particularly evocative of the account. He or she would often focus on important turning points in the narrative or the climax of a story, highlighting the main figures in the plot. As in the theatre, these would include the protagonist(s), as well as other individuals, objects, or elements that are essential for the accurate decoding of the illustration. The artist’s mastery lies in his or her ability to depict them in order to allow the observer to comprehend their content and meaning instantaneously and unmistakably. The artist, working within the confines of visual content, may find it difficult to cope with the non-perceptible, such as thoughts and ideas, conversations, or character traits. An equal emphasis in a book on both modes of transmission, scriptural-verbal and pictorial-visual, is relatively rare. It is therefore important to understand the relationship between the narrative and the imagery that accompanies it. A book, in essence, is a communicating agent between the author, the scribe or copyist,10 the artist, and the recipient. Moreover, interpretation of the text-image relationship must not be restricted to a linear—though perhaps bilateral—dialogue between

9 Inclusion in the notion of “gesture” of illustrations in manuscripts, whether for mere embellishment or for any other reason, mainly from the standpoint of Islamic art, was challenged by Oleg Grabar, “Seeing Things: Why Pictures in Texts?” in Islamic Art and Literature, ed. Oleg Grabar and Cynthia Robinson (Princeton, NJ: Markus Wiener, 2001), 1–4. 10 It is important to distinguish between the scribe or copyist who reproduces an existing text, and the author who produces an original text, thus creating an autograph. Here, and throughout the present work, the terms “scribe” and “copyist” are interchangeable, referring to the person responsible for the transcription of the text.

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the scribe and the artist. The production of a book is the beginning of the process, which also includes its reception by its target audience as the final, though temporary result, as each beholder “reads” the visual message with different eyes and in light of his or her own time and culture. The debate over the respective importance of word and image and their role in the religious life of the believer has had an important place in the history of Christianity. It played a predominant role in the schism between the Catholics and the Protestants in the sixteenth century. Whereas Catholic churches and cathedrals were heavily ornamented, many Protestants, especially Calvinists, considered the use of visual imagery in religion distracting. Some, however— beginning with Martin Luther, who included illustrations in his Bible—valued their didactic importance. One Protestant advocate of images, the Bavarian humanist Jakob Ziegler, quoted St. Augustine and Gregory the Great, who had considered images as being more powerful than words for the transmission of a message, because anyone can understand them and they require no interpretation.11 The wide spectrum of modern theories on the interrelationship between text and image fall into one of two main categories. For the most part, text historians consider the word as the principal bearer of the message and regard verbal media as the prime means of communication between humans. Art historians, by contrast, favour the transmission of the message through the eye, explaining that the image offers a more universal “reading” and conception. This differentiation lies in the training of scholars and their respective disciplines and methodologies. Discussing the thirteenth-century Roman de la Rose (Romance of the Rose), composed by Guillaume de Lorris with subsequent additions by Jean de Meun, the literary historian Stephen G. Nichols explicitly positions the word in the foreground and regards the image as ancillary.12 Placing the verbal message high above the visual, he claims, “Figural language places the image in the service of the word, thereby privileging the sensual and immediate over the rational and conceptual.” To him, this is “the conflict between figural versus rational language,” which he traces back to Plato.13 Nichols’ approach clearly reflects his area of expertise as a literary historian. 11 See, at length, Sergiusz Michelski, The Reformation and the Visual Arts. The Protestant Image Question in Western and Eastern Europe (London: Routledge, 1993), especially 169–194. 12 Stephen G. Nichols, “Ekphrasis, Iconoclasm, and Desire,” in Rethinking the Romance of the Rose. Text, Image, Reception, ed. Kevin Brownlee and Sylvia Huot (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992), 133–160. 13 Ibid., 133.

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Art-centred scholars quite naturally have a very different perspective. In her article on “Art as Symbolic Speech,”14 the art therapist Margaret Naumburg argues that Art as symbolic speech has played a major role in both the conscious and unconscious cultural expression of man throughout the ages. In order to become more clearly aware, from the vantage point of today, of the myriad ways by which universal picturisation has been for man a means of profound communication, it is necessary to re-assess the diverse and often contradictory estimates of such symbolic expression in our own time as well as in ages past.15

Hence, in an attempt to obtain a complete and correct understanding of a symbolic message in a particular work of art, one must consider its timeframe and religious-cultural milieu in depth and breadth alike. The art critic Leo Steinberg explicitly argues that works of art are primary sources, as valid as any written document, if only “read” and interpreted correctly. Moreover, he claims in his book, The Sexuality of Jesus in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion,16 just as a written text is a world in itself and simultaneously reflective of the world from which it comes, so, too, the work of art is a multi-facetted and multi-layered visual message. Following Steinberg’s example, Doug Adams and Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, in the introduction to their jointly edited book, Art as Religious Studies,17 further reflect on the importance of looking upon art beyond its aesthetic value: . . . works of art are neither illustrations nor evidence that validates a particular interpretation of a theological or cultural arrangement. Rather, works of art are in their own right a mode of human expression that generates theological interpretation and reflection, and that reveals its cultural and theological milieu . . .18

In other words, works of art are an independent—rather than subordinate—means of expression in their own right. The complex interaction between text and image in any kind of an illustrated written text, be it an illuminated manuscript or a printed book, is convincingly

14 Margaret Naumburg, “Art as Symbolic Speech,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 13, no. 4 (1955): 435–450. 15 Ibid., 435. 16 Leo Steinberg, The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion, 2nd ed., revised and expanded (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 17 Doug Adams and Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, eds., Art as Religious Studies (New York: Crossroad, 1987). 18 Ibid., 4.

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summarised by David Adams with a particular focus on the French and English printed books: It might be said that the meaning of an illustration is located precisely in the gap between what is said and what is shown, and that both these elements contribute to the creation of a signifier, which could not exist without their presence. Certainly, the illustrations supplement the text, but it can also be argued that the text supplements the illustrations, in that it offers a set of signifiers which enable us to “make sense” of these scenes, actions and characters depicted in a way which would not be possible otherwise. The fact that text and image supplement each other, and create a meaning which is not wholly coterminous with either of them, acts as a powerful corrective to the Derridean notion that a supplement is necessarily subordinate to that which it supplements.19

Carrying the discussion over to the Jewish realm, another art historian, Gabrielle Sed-Rajna, one of the leading authorities on the art of Hebrew illuminated manuscripts, dedicated an essay to the relationship between text and image in medieval Hebrew Bible manuscripts. Her view is explicitly reflected in the title of the study, “The Image as Exegetical Tool: Painting in Medieval Hebrew Manuscripts of the Bible.” In her words: In Medieval manuscripts in general, in Hebrew manuscripts in particular, ornaments and illustrations were not considered merely aesthetical components, with the sole aim of enhancing the artistic value of the book. Visual complements often had an intellectual function as well, one that varied according to the nature of these complements.20

Sed-Rajna regards the non-verbal constituents of the physical book as “visual additions,” and calls for a distinction between “non-significant decoration, generally called ornaments,” and “significant decoration, including all types of illustrations.”21 Both categories of embellishments, though, remain for her an “exegetical tool,” which is, by definition, secondary to the main content of the book—the text.

19 David Adams, “Introduction: Text, Image and Contemporary Society,” Journal for EighteenthCentury Studies 31, no. 3 (2008): 308. Cf. Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), 152–157. 20 Gabrielle Sed-Rajna, “The Image as Exegetical Tool: Painting in Medieval Hebrew Manuscripts of the Bible,” in The Bible as Book. The Manuscript Tradition, ed. John L. Sharpe III and Kimberly van Kampen (London: The British Library / Oak Knoll, 1998), 215. 21 Ibid. An interesting study regarding text-image relationship in a particular printed Hebrew book—the Venice Haggadah of 1609—was carried out by Rafael Arnold and Esther Graf, “Text-Bild-Bezug in der venezianischen Haggadah von 1609,” in Judentum zwischen Tradition und Moderne (Schriften der Hochscule für Jüdische Studien), ed. Gerd Biegel and Michel Graetz (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter, 2002), 161–178.

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From a different perspective, Richard I. Cohen, a historian with a strong feel for and deep knowledge of visual art, highlights the importance of examining visual materials as part of a relevant historical study, especially in the context of cultural history. In his opinion, the two types of sources complement one another and are equally valid documents. “Overlooking the visual dimension by scholars of the modern period,” he says, “is tantamount to denying a source, created by Jews and non-Jews, which inevitably enriches our insight into the modern Jewish experience.”22 The selected views presented above are illustrative of the fact that evaluation and interpretation are a matter of context. To quote Anthony Grafton in his book on scholarship and Humanism, Defenders of the Text, “contexts, of course, are personal and social as well as technical and intellectual.”23 Beyond the original intention of the producers of the book, its posthumous interpretation, as that of any work of cultural heritage, is subject to the influence of the interpreter’s temporal, cultural, religious, and other sediments. Looking into the Binding of Isaac in Jewish and Christian art as a test case, Edward Kessler makes the following statement: “The biblical story should not be viewed solely from a literary perspective. Artists who created images based on the biblical story are, in essence, exegetes in their own right and their interpretations sometimes vary considerably from the better-known interpretations found in the writings of the church fathers or the rabbis.”24 The very notion that, while biblical imagery is naturally dependent on the text it also draws on other interpretative exegetical materials, is central to the present study. Extending this understanding to any text-based visual representations and, in particular, those depicting cultural or religious phenomena, is the foundation of the methodology applied here. It draws not only on the text and the images appended to it as a matter of course but also on other observations and considerations. To texts and paratexts25 as shapers of visual iconography in 22 Richard I. Cohen, “Where History and Visual Culture Intersect,” Images 1 (2007): 3. 23 Anthony Grafton, Defenders of the Text. The Traditions of Scholarship in an Age of Science, 1450–1800 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994), 17. 24 Edward Kessler, “A Response to Marc Bregman,” The Journal of the Society for Textual Reasoning 2, no. 1 (2003), published electronically, http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/journals/tr/volume2/ kessler.html (accessed February 27, 2020). 25 The term “paratext” was coined and described by Gérard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation, trans. Jane E. Lewin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997) (originally published in French under the title Seuils, Paris: Seuil, 1987). According to the author (p. 2), paratexts, or those portions of the book that are not part of the main narrative, are “a zone between text and off-text, a zone not only of transition but also of transaction: a privileged place of pragmatics and a strategy, of an influence on the public, an influence that . . . is at the service of a

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general, one should add the “absent text,” namely the text that exists not in the manuscript itself, but is part of the cultural heritage of the artist or the person instructing him and thereby influencing his iconographic rendering. Additionally, direct pictorial models or such available to the artist that have become part of his own vocabulary, also shape the visual expression. Another source of influence are “para-images,” which are often only remotely connected to the image or subject matter the artist is about to depict, but do exist in his imagination, association, and repository of cultural background. All these verbal, visual, and intellectual-cultural sources are the ingredients that shape the personal expression of the artist in his work. For the cultural historian, then, deciphering the multi-layered illustration is crucial for understanding it fully and correctly. The awareness that the evaluation of the interrelation between text and image is subjective and culture-bound26 underlies of the study of the Nuremberg Miscellany, its embellishments and illustrations. They are essential to decoding how the visual elements in the book interact with the written text and how the artist conveyed the message to the reader and onlooker, from the original owner of the manuscript down to the present day. Living in a different culture and society centuries later, our challenge is to reconstruct as accurately as possible the transformation of ideas into words and their presentation in images by the originators of the manuscript in Southern Germany in 1589. While this study of the Nuremberg Miscellany focuses predominantly on the visual, we are also concerned with the identification of its textual compilation and components, and the interrelation between the two. The imagery of the manuscript presents a whole world of Jewish life, with its customs, beliefs, tradition and lore. The images go far beyond mere embellishments; they are a legacy, handed over to another generation—an additional link in a perpetual chain of proud Jewish existence aspiring to carry over its heritage as a people without land, a nation moulded in variegated host societies as a more or less persecuted, segregated minority. The coexistence of Jews among gentiles left a strong mark

better reception for the text and a more pertinent reading of it.” Cf. also Gérard Genette and Marie Maclean, “Introduction to the Paratext,” New Literary History 22, no. 2: Probings: Art, Criticism, Genre (Spring, 1991): 261–272. 26 From a different approach, the focal point of which is memory, Mary Carruthers and Jan M. Ziolkowski express similar ideas in their introduction to The Medieval Craft of Memory. An Anthology of Texts and Pictures (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 7, namely, “Pictures give the inventing recollection specific locations.” See also William Albert Graham, Beyond the Written Word: Oral Aspects of Scripture in the History of Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987; first paperback edition, 1993).

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on Jewish life in every part of the Diaspora. Dwindling between tolerance, hope and stability on the one hand, and oppression and often annihilation on the other hand, the Jews nurtured a rich inner world of religious life and culture. Reading the illustrations in the Nuremberg Miscellany as a history book, therefore, seems to be the preferred way to tackle the often-enigmatic embellishments interspersed within the leaves of the manuscript. The art-historical approach, focusing mainly on aspects of technique and style, the compositional placement of the illustrations within the manuscript’s decorative scheme, or a plain iconographic interpretation of the image, does not provide a complete understanding of its context. These considerations are certainly important, but to give a full view of the manuscript it is essential to study its literary and artistic components such as the two faces of Janus, complemented by a reconstruction of the general and specific circumstances of its creation. In order to offer the reader an experience as close to the original as possible, the book follows the flow of the text. In a few cases, though, it deviates from the scribe’s order in favour of a coherent discussion of a particular topic.

Chapter 1  Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany The Nuremberg Miscellany—Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg, 8° Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)—follows a long tradition of Hebrew manuscripts from all parts of the Jewish Diaspora. It is, however, a work of scribal art and illumination that has largely fallen out of fashion with the introduction and proliferation of printed books in the Jewish world.1 Very few Hebrew manuscripts survived from the late sixteenth century that originate in the German-speaking realm. Most of the extant manuscripts are autographs copied and illustrated by unskilled individuals, and therefore unrepresentative of professional norms of that time. Neither these manuscripts nor the Miscellany shed significant light on contemporary Hebrew manuscript production in Germany. In its present state, the manuscript is comprised of a total of forty-six parchment folios, forty-four of which are part of the original codex, and an additional bifolio attached to it immediately or soon after its production.2 Currently, the manuscript has a nineteenth-century cardboard binding,3 replacing the original one or a subsequent binding that had been missing when the manuscript came into the possession of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum.4

1 The production and techniques involved in the preparation of Hebrew manuscripts are described by Malachi Beit Arié, “How Hebrew Manuscripts Are Made,” in A Sign and a Witness. 2000 Years of Hebrew Books and Illuminated Manuscripts, ed. Leonard Singer Gold (New York: New York Public Library / Oxford University Press, 1988), 35–46; idem, Hebrew Manuscripts of East and West: Towards a Comparative Codicology (The Panizzi Lectures). London: The British Library, 1992. See also idem, The Makings of the Medieval Hebrew Book. Studies in Paleography and Codicology (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1993). 2 The parchment material of the bifolio that was added to the last quire compares in quality and thickness to the original sheets of the manuscript. 3 Binding techniques (including “forwarding” and “finishing”) are discussed by Philippa J. M. Marks, The British Library Guide to Bookbinding. History and Techniques (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). The diagrams on 30 are especially useful in clarifying the terminology of bookbinding. See also the diagrams included in Michelle P. Brown, Understanding Illuminated Manuscripts. A Guide to Technical Terms (Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Trust; the British Museum, 1994), 6–7. 4 This statement is based on the manuscript’s current state. For further details, see below in the chapter on the history and provenance of the Nuremberg Miscellany, 51. All the images taken from the Nuremberg Miscellany are courtesy of the GNM and with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-002

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The added bifolio is shorter than the leaves of the original manuscript; however, it is unclear whether this was its original state or outcome of later cropping (see Figure 2).

Figure 2: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 44v-45r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The paper pastedowns protecting the front and the back of the Miscellany are contemporary with the binding.5 The process of this eventual binding (if not earlier) involved evening out the leaves,6 thereby cropping their margins at the expense of the completeness of some illustrations and parts of the text—mainly catchwords. The damage was more severe to the upper and lower margins than to the outer margins.7 Most of the illustrations, however, are either complete or not

5 There is, of course, no way of knowing how many times the manuscript was rebound before the present-day cardboard binding. 6 The present average size of the pages after the cropping for the subsequent binding is 14.5 × 22.5 cm. 7 See, for example, fols. 1v, 2v, 3r, 3v, 10r, 10v, 11v, and 35v.

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 Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany

so seriously impaired as to prevent the full iconographic reading of the images and their details (see Figure 3).

Figure 3: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Cropping is not the only damage that occurred to the manuscript in over four centuries of its existence. Time has left its mark on it in many ways. Tears on folios 34r and 44v have undergone repair by pieces of parchment glued onto the leaves. Folio 1r has a small fold along part of its lower left (vertical) edge that most probably predates the nineteenth-century binding. Some leaves show signs of crumpling from an unknown point in time, probably due to exposure to excessive humidity.8 Wormholes are scattered throughout the manuscript, although they have affected mainly the beginning and the end of the book, namely fols. 1–2 and 43–46. The state of the Nuremberg Miscellany when it emerged and its subsequent binding at some point in its history make the reconstruction of its initial arrangement challenging. It is possible, however, that its current structure, with seven quires, is as it was in the first phase as well. The first six quires date back to the 8 Such as fols. 17, 43, and 44.

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original production time, whereas the bifolio, fols. 45r-46v, contains inscriptions from various dates, from the late sixteenth century onward, without discolouring or imprints that could have indicated a relationship between the original quires and the appendage.9 The first three quires form groups of six sheets. Two extra sheets, glued to the beginning of the first quire, are a separate, though concurrent, textual entity with the main body of the manuscript and were originally intended to become part of it, as will be explained later.10 The following three quires are of eight sheets each, the last of which concludes the initial text of the book and contains the scribe’s colophon. In order to safeguard the correctness of the textual sequence for the bookbinder, the scribe added catchwords in line with the medieval tradition of manuscript production.11 Catchwords appear quite regularly throughout the manuscript at the bottom of the verso of the folios,12 usually only in the first part of the quires (see Figure 4).13

9 Fol. 44v is soiled at its bottom and right margins, however no conclusion can be drawn from this observation. 10 See pp. 423–425. 11 The modes and methods employed by Hebrew scribes and copyists to safeguard the correct sequence of the pages and of the quires while binding a manuscript are the subject of the study by Malachi Beit Arié, “Les procédés qui garantissent l’ordre des cahiers, des bifeuillets et des feuillets dans les codices hébreux,” in Recherches de codicologie comparée: La composition du codex au Moyen Âge, ed. Ph. Hoffmann (Paris: Presses de l’École normale supérieure, 1998), 137–151. 12 The first catchword in the manuscript, on fol. 1v, is the indicator of the middle of quire I; quires II and III lack catchwords altogether; quire IV contains a catchword at the bottom left of its first three folios; quire V has a catchword on the second, third, and fourth folios: fol. 21v contains the longest text in the entire manuscript, comprising nineteen lines and occupying the largest text-space. This may suggest the possible existence of a catchword inscribed below the main text-space, perhaps in smaller script, in an area that was eventually cropped due to later binding, or that in this case no catchword was inscribed on the page. Additional catchwords in this quire are on the sixth and seventh folios (this is the first quire comprising eight sheets); quire V has a catchword on its first, third, and seventh folios: fols. 30v, 33v, and 34v contain an extended secondary text at the bottom of the folio, exceeding the regular text-space. The same holds true for fol. 35v, although here the scribe did include a catchword, in semi-cursive script; quire VI contains catchwords on its first, second, and fourth folios: the third leaf fol. 39v, contains a text that occupies a slightly longer text-space than usual. There may have been a cropped catchword, although there is no indication for this conjecture in the manuscript itself. Fol. 43v has a bottom-margin illustration that would presumably rule out the inclusion of a catchword. The last quire, namely the additional bifolio at the end of the manuscript, obviously has no catchword. 13 There are catchwords on fols. 1v, 15v, 16v (in the middle of the present-day quire), 17v, 22v, 23v, 24v (in the middle of the present-day quire), 26v, 27v, 29v, 31v, 32v, 37v, 38v (in the middle of the present-day quire), 40v (in the middle of the present-day quire), and 41v.

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 Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Figure 4: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 15v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum,   Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The cropping of the manuscript during its subsequent binding (or bindings) may have eliminated some of the catchwords, especially on pages where the text overflows its regularly allotted space.14 The same holds true for the pricking, which is still noticeable irregularly throughout the manuscript. In order to justify the margins on both sides of the text,15 the scribe employed a traditional medieval device of inserting line fillers to adjust the left margins. His familiarity with a variety of methods of traditional scriptural aesthetics seems to indicate that he was, indeed, a skilled scribe. When a line in the text was too short, leaving too much space before the left vertical ruling, he inscribed the first letter of the word opening the following line as filler.16 Additional types of fillers he used are the pseudo-letter and a randomly added letter that does not appear

14 The scribe did so, for example, on fols. 16r, 23v, 39v, and elsewhere. 15 Such concerns did not entail texts written in a semi-cursive script in medieval Hebrew manuscripts. They are also absent from the secondary texts rendered in semi-cursive in the Nuremberg Miscellany. 16 For example, see fols. 3v, 4r, or 19r.

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in the ensuing text.17 Graphic fillers, often simulating letters, frequently appear in the text as well (see Figure 5).18

Figure 5: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Other methods of keeping an even left margin have to do with the form of the letters themselves. In some instances, the scribe utilised smaller-scale characters at the end of the line,19 and in one instance, he did so for a number of words.20 Dilatation, or extending the length of letters toward the end of the line, appears in the Nuremberg Miscellany several times.21 Further techniques used in it are widening the space between the words,22 or dividing words leaving the beginning of the last word in one line and continuing it in the following line, without

17 Such as on fol. 35r, where the scribe curiously inserted a ‫ ת‬after the word ‫ ְמ ַׂש ֵּמ ַח‬that concludes the line and the word ‫ ָח ָתן‬with which the following line begins. 18 See fols. 6r, 27v, 31r, and other pages. 19 As on fols. 42r-v. 20 On fol. 8v. 21 As on fols. 5r, 16r, 26v, and other instances. 22 For example, on fols. 7r, 19v, or 21v.

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 Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany

hyphenation.23 When the word exceeded the left vertical ruling line, the scribe sometimes abbreviated it and omitted its last letter altogether.24 In line with the Ashkenazi medieval tradition of Hebrew manuscripts,25 the scribe—or the parchmenter (parchment-maker)—carefully prepared the sheets of the manuscript before he began writing on them.26 To this end, he treated the parchment to such a point that the flesh and skin sides are hardly discernible. He further employed a hard drypoint or stylus for ruling that is still apparent in the horizontal and vertical lines alike. The horizontal ruling is not as consistent. Most pages of the main text have eighteen lines per page, with some pages showing fewer ruling lines and, accordingly, less text. No horizontal ruling is apparent for the secondary texts, written in smaller-sized characters, usually in a different font from the main text. The secondary texts or those inscribed in semi-cursive script do not follow the same arrangement and number of lines as those of the main text, even when they fill the entire page, as is the case, for example, in fols. 1v-2v. The vertical lines—one at each end—mark the breadth of the text-space to secure its full justification on both sides (see Figure 6). Traces of pricking are sometimes discernible in the inner margins27 and usually also in the lower margins.28 The absence of pricking in the upper margins further supports the hypothesis that a subsequent cropping was more substantial in the upper part of the manuscript than in its bottom part. The preserved pricking situation, therefore, cannot serve as any indication of the original manner in which the manuscript was prepared for the application of the text. For the most part, the scribe employed the typical Ashkenazi style, with letters “hanging” underneath the ruling lines, although occasionally the text occupies the interlinear space, usually in a smaller font (see Figure 7). The secondary text,

23 As he did, for example, on fols. 11r, 15r or 19v. An even more striking example is visible on fols. 14r-v. The last word on fol. 14r is divided so that its first letters are inscribed on this page, while the last letters follow on the overleaf, on fol. 14v. The term used for this method is “anticipating the beginning of the next word” in Malachi Beit Arié, Hebrew Codicology. Tentative Typology of Technical Practices Employed in Hebrew Dated Medieval Manuscripts (Études de paléographie hébraïque) (Paris: Institut de recherche et d’histoire des texts 1976; reprint with addenda and corrigenda, Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1981), 88. 24 This is the case in fol. 17r. 25 For technical issues in the production of Hebrew manuscripts, see Beit Arié, Hebrew Codicology. 26 The numerous stages of preparation for the production of an illuminated manuscript in the medieval west exceed the scope of this study. See, however, Brown, British Library Guide, 66–69. Not all of the stages delineated in this study are present in the Nuremberg Miscellany. 27 As in fol. 22r. 28 For example, on fol. 29r.

Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 17

Figure 6: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum,   Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Figure 7: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 25v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

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 Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany

on the other hand, does not adhere to the ruling lines at all and, in fact, has no fixed or regular number of lines per page. The scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany did not limit himself to one type of lettering.29 The main text throughout the manuscript uses the Ashkenazi square script. Mastering yet another style, the scribe employed the semi-cursive script that is traditionally used in medieval manuscripts for commentaries (such as in Bibles and in Talmudic texts), secondary texts or instructions, or sometimes paratexts. Occasionally, he used it also for the time-bound variations within the main text (see Figure 8). In a few cases, he preferred display script that is heavily dependent on the Latin Gothic letters with their elongated proportions and swaying lines with which he may have been familiar both from earlier Hebrew manuscripts,30 as well as from the vernacular.31 For initial words and letters, the scribe displayed his familiarity with a myriad of formal fonts, such as the folded-ribbon, spare-ground initials, zoomorphic or anthropomorphic letters, or the regular block-form letters, embellished with decorations of a diverse nature.32 Adding a different form of ornamentation, he used scribbling or tendrils at beginnings of words, mostly in brown-black ink, but sometimes also in red with touches of green.33 These embellishments often

29 Of the studies on Hebrew palaeography, see mainly Malachi Beit-Arié, “Stereotypes and Individuality in Medieval Handwritings,” Alei Sefer 5 (1978), 54–72 (Hebrew); idem, “Stéréotypes et individualité dans les écritures des copistes hébraïques du Moyen Âge,” in L’écriture: le cerveau, l’œil et la main; Actes du colloque international du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris, Collège de France 2, 3, et 4 mai 1988 (Bibliologia, 10), ed. C. Sirat, J. Irigoin, and E. Poulle, 201–219 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1990), 201–219; Ada Yardeni, The Book of Hebrew Script: History, Palaeography, Script Styles, Calligraphy and Design (Jerusalem: Carta, 2002); Colette Sirat, Writing as Handwork: A History of Handwriting in Mediterranean and Western Culture (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006); as well as Malachi Beit Arié, “The Script and Book Craft in the Hebrew Medieval Codex,” in Crossing Borders: Hebrew Manuscripts as a Meeting-place of Cultures, ed. Piet van Boxel and Sabine Arndt (Oxford: Bodleian Library, 2009), 21–34. 30 This kind of script is utilised, for example, in the posthumously written book of dinim or ritual decisions according to R. Meir of Rothenburg (ca. 1215–1293) from Germany, dated to 1342, in Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Bodl. Or. 146. See excerpt of fol. 39v in van Boxel and Arndt, Crossing Borders, 29, compared to a Bohemian/Moravian Latin missal of the fourteenth century, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Lat. liturg. d.11, fol. 89v. 31 This type of font was widely used in Latin and other European manuscripts in the Gothic period. See Brown, British Library Guide, 79, mainly no. 12: Gothic Book Script (used around 1200–1600) and no. 17: Humanistic Book Script (used between 1400 and 1700). 32 Further discussion on the historiated initial words and letters is included below as part of the iconography of each particular illustrated page. 33 As on fols. 13r-14v and 18r-19v. In some cases, the scribe failed to inscribe the initial letters and only the demarcations of the stanzas exist, as on fol. 30r.

Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 19

Figure 8: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 39v-40r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

indicate an acrostic or stanzas in a liturgical hymn (piyyuṭ) (see Figure 9). Consequently, the pages are often not visually uniform, changing with the contents of each particular text and the scribe’s artistic whimsy. Another medieval tradition prevalent in the Nuremberg Miscellany is the use of ligatures for the letters aleph (‫ )א‬and lamed (‫ )ל‬in the Hebrew words for “God,” elohim (‫ֹלהים‬ ִ ‫)א‬ ֱ or el (‫)אל‬. ֵ An additional frequent ligature presents two adjacent yod (‫ )י‬characters, used as a euphemism for the tetragrammaton.34 The ink used for the text throughout the manuscript is of varying shades of brown, from a dark brown to an almost black tone. Lighter brown is more prevalent in the diacritic marks,35 and in later additions (or paratexts) that are not part

34 The tetragrammaton is the biblical name of God, represented by the letters yod he vav he, which may not be pronounced according to the Jewish tradition. See, for the aleph-lamed ligature, fols. 19v, 23r, 42v, 44r, and other places. For the yod-yod ligature, see fols. 4r, 28r, 43r, and more. 35 For example, on fols. 3v-4r.

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 Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Figure 9: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 20r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum,   Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

of the original text.36 The general impression of many pages is colourful thanks to the execution of the initial letters and words in a variety of colors that offer further ornamentation. In two instances, the artist used powdered gold, also known as gold dust or shell gold, for the most sumptuous initials. Fol. 4v contains the initial word nevarekh (‫ = נְ ָב ֵרְך‬let us bless) (see Figure 10), and on fol. 19v, only the first initial letter of the word barukh (‫ = ָּברּוְך‬blessed [be]) has a gold tincture.

Figure 10: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs.   7058 (Rl. 203)]

36 Such as the added instructions ‫ לכשיגיע לוככתוב ואכלת‬on fol. 38r after the termination of the first paragraph.

Chapter 1 Physical Description of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 21

Occasionally, colour staining is present on some leaves of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Such staining occurred when wet paint from the illustrations or decorations left its mark on an adjacent page, either on the opposite page of the opening or even as traces, visible on the reverse side of the parchment of the same leaf. For example, folios 4r, 29r, 30r, 37r, and 40v bear traces of paint or smudges that do not belong to their decorative scheme.37 Arguably, the fact that foreign colouring is visible also on undecorated pages may suggest that the artist used slow-drying paint that ran through the parchment to the other side of the page, or that he was not fully aware of the time needed for the paint to dry thoroughly before proceeding with his work, indicating lack of expertise. It is important to note that the bright red-orange was especially susceptible for seepage, and to a lesser degree also the green, proposing that the artist’s composition and administration of these pigments and their solvents was not very successful (see Figure 11).38

Figure 11: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum,   Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 37 A similar phenomenon occurs on fol. 42v which shows marks of a leak from fol. 43r. The illustration, however, may belong a later phase than the original decoration of the manuscript. 38 Coloring on the reverse side of the page can, of course, occur when the parchment sheet is particularly thin. Stains probably caused by spilling of some liquid on the manuscript, occur, for example, on fols. 5v-6r, 14v, 29r, and elsewhere.

Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany Changes in European visual art of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries may have had their strongest impact in the German-speaking lands more than in any other part of Europe. The political scene in Germany was that of small, independent fiefdoms under the loose overarching umbrella of the Holy Roman Empire. Toward the end of the Gothic period, which roughly spanned the twelfth to sixteenth centuries, the older north-Gothic art centres of Germany and the Netherlands went into decline. Towns such as Bruges, and later Antwerp and Nuremberg, soon took over as main propagators of the Renaissance style north of the Alps in all art forms. Two revolutions in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Germany strongly influenced its art. The first was the development of the moveable type printing press around 1440 by Johannes Gensfleisch zur Laden zum Gutenberg (ca. 1398–1468) of Mainz and its dissemination to various other cities all over the country. The other revolution was the Protestant Reformation which began in 1517.1 In the early fifteenth century, German artists, like those all across Europe, were creating delicate courtly art in the International Style, with its graceful elongated figures and lavish gold decorations and patterned surfaces, and preference for abstract ornamentation over realism. By the mid-fifteenth century, German artists embraced a more naturalistic expressive style, adopting the artistic vocabulary of the Dutch painting.2 German painters tended to emphasise line and pattern over three-dimensionality. They were therefore particularly attracted to woodcuts and engravings that were not as costly as handwritten and painted materials and could be mass-produced and distributed. Consequently, such reproducible works of art were by far more affordable to a larger stratum within cultured society than painting, sculpture, and other more traditional art media. 1 Of the numerous studies on German art in the Early Modern period and the impact of the Reformation in the German-speaking lands, see mainly Bernd Moeller, Deutschland im Zeitalter der Reformation (Deutsche Geschichte 4, Kleine Vandenhoeck Reihe) (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977); Carl Christiansen, Art and Reformation in Germany (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 1979); idem, Kunst der Reformationszeit (Berlin: Elefanten, 1983); Ernst Ullmann, Kunst und Reformation (Leipzig: VEB Seeman-Verlag, 1983). 2 Giulia Bartrum, German Renaissance Prints, 1490–1550 (Catalogue of an exhibition held at the British Museum) (London: Published for the Trustees of the British Museum by the British Museum Press, 1995), 221–237. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-003

Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany  

 23

The art of printmaking left a decisive mark on art in Germany.3 Before the invention of the printing press, people did not consider printmaking as an art form. The first woodcuts printed on paper were playing cards produced in Germany at the beginning of the fifteenth century.4 Printing from metal engravings emerged a few decades later, greatly refining the results. Restricted at first to goldsmiths and armourers, skilled in the mastery of delicate incision on metal, it soon became the most popular form of serial reproduction, enabling the dissemination of artwork, style, iconography, and message even far beyond its original cultural boundaries. The metal engraving technique reached its apex with Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), a painter, draughtsman, and printmaker. Dürer himself first apprenticed in Nuremberg with his father, the goldsmith Albrecht Dürer the Elder, and with the local painter and printmaker Michael Wolgemut. More than any other northern European artist, Dürer was fascinated with Italian Renaissance artistic practices and theories. His visits to Venice, in 1494–1495 and in 1505–1507, had a great impact on his work, and, in fact, changed the nature of artistic creation in Germany altogether. Inspired by the revival of the ancient classical heritage, he brought the new style across the Alps and fused it with German Gothic traditions into a new form of visual expression. Dürer thus became the founder of the German Renaissance.5 Other artists, too, developed an interest in the art of the Italian Renaissance to a greater or lesser degree. To mention but one of them: in Augsburg and Basel, Hans Holbein the Elder (ca. 1460–1524), a woodcut artist, book illustrator, and designer of church windows, was another pioneer and leader in the

3 See mainly Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980); idem, The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe, 2nd, rev. ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); specifically on Gutenberg’s contribution to the dissemination of the art of printing and to Western culture and civilization, Marshall McLuhan, The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographic Man (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1962); and, more recently, John Man, The Gutenberg Revolution: The Story of a Genius and an Invention that Changed the World (London: Headline Review, 2002). 4 Detlef Hoffmann, Ursula Tiemann, and Rainer Schoch, Altdeutsche Spielkarten 1500–1650. Katalog der Holzschnittkarten mit deutschen Farben aus dem Deutschen Spielkarten-Museum Leinfelden-Echterdingen und dem Germanischen Nationalmuseum Nürnberg (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1993). 5 On the impact of Italy and its art on Dürer, see Ulrich G. Großmann, “Albrecht Dürer in Innsbruck. Zur Datierung der ersten italienischen Reise.” In Das Dürer-Haus. Neue Ergebnisse der Forschung (Dürer-Forschungen, Bd. 1), edited by Ulrich G. Großmann and Franz Sonnenberger, (Nuremberg: Verlag des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 2007), 227–240; and Katherine Crawford Luber, Albrecht Dürer and the Venetian Renaissance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

transformation of German art from the Gothic style into the Renaissance. Other artists followed suit, altering the visual expression of German art. Occurring slightly later in time, a religious crisis arose in the early sixteenth century that was to cleave the western Church into two major denominations from then on. In 1517, Martin Luther launched the Protestant revolt when he composed his Disputatio pro declaratione virtutis indulgentiarum (also known—in translation—as the Ninety-Five Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences), in which he poignantly criticised acts of greed and corruption in the Catholic Church.6 The emphasis on direct experience of God that is not dependent on the clergy shifted the spiritual focus to private devotion. Publishing his translation of the Hebrew Bible and Christian Scriptures, namely the New Testament, into German in 1522 rendered the sacred texts accessible to a larger public, eroding the power of the Church and the people’s reliance on the ministers. Political changes amplified the power of secular rulers at the expense of the church, and emerging nationalism made prosperous northern cities increasingly reluctant to share their wealth with the Pope. The ideas of the Reformation swept rapidly through Germany and into the Low Countries in the 1520s. Largely, its swift proliferation benefitted from the fact that religious propaganda was readily accessible to the masses through the new media of printed books, broadsheets, and other forms of graphic art. As with other instances of cultural transition, the introduction of the Renaissance into German art was by no means abrupt or conclusive. Traces of the Gothic continued to exist for a long period, well into the sixteenth century, mainly in the use of elaborate ornamentation in all forms of decorative art. After the introduction of the moveable type by Gutenberg in 1440, this technique became an important factor not only in the dissemination of ideas—including those of the emerging Lutheranism—but also in German art of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. During the early decades of printing, it was almost exclusively a German specialty. Embellishment of books by woodcut and engraving had already begun in Germany around the turn of the fifteenth century. Leading the way for other parts of Europe and boasting skilfully fashioned art, German printers often

6 See Erwin Iserloh, The Theses Were Not Posted: Luther between Reform and Reformation, trans. Jared Wicks (Boston: Beacon, 1968). For an English translation of Luther’s Theses, see Adolph Spaeth, L. D. Reed, Henry Eyster Jacobs et al., eds. and trans., “Disputation of Doctor Martin Luther on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences (1517),” in Works of Martin Luther: With Introduction and Notes, ed. Henry Eyster Jacobs and Adolph Spaeth (Philadelphia: Holman, 1915), vol. 1, 29–38.

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period 

 25

lent woodblocks to printers outside of Germany or traded in them.7 The combination of the two phenomena, namely the use of moveable type and the liberty taken by the owners of this material to pass over the typographic embellishments and artistic creations like merchandise from one printing press to another, changed the history of transmission of knowledge, ideas, and imagery throughout Europe.8

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period The legal and civic status of the Jews underwent transformations since their earliest settlement in the Germanic region, documented from as early as the fourth century.9 Often, they found a certain degree of protection with the emperor or local ruler, and in other cases, local or eminent clergy—bishops and archbishops— provided them with some safety. Rulers granted favourable conditions to the Jews mainly to levy them, predominantly due to dwindling fiscal revenues rather than out of enlightened or benevolent attitudes.10

7 Suzanne Boorsch and Nadine M. Orenstein “The Print in the North: The Age of Albrecht Dürer and Lucas van Leyden,” Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 54, no. 4 (Spring, 1997): 3–12. 8 David S. Areford offers a thorough study of the impact of printed artworks and their circulation in the fifteenth century in The Viewer and the Printed Image in Late Medieval Europe (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010). 9 Contesting the continuity of Jewish presence in Germany as of the fourth century, Alfred Haverkamp argues that Jewish settlement of Jews in Germany can only be substantiated from the ninth century onwards. See his entry “Germany,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism VI – The Middle Ages: The Christian World ed. Robert Chazan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 243−251, especially 243−246. The nascence of Jewish communities in medieval Germany has been recently described also by Lucia Raspe, “Jerusalem am Rhein, Anfänge jüdischen Lebens in Deutschland im Mittelalter,” in Innere Räume – äußere Zäune; jüdischer Alltag im Rheingebiet im Spätmittelalter und in der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Ludolf Pelizaeus (Mainz: Verein für Sozialgeschichte, 2010), 13–27. See also Alfred Haverkamp, “The Beginning of Jewish Life North of the Alps with Comparative Glances at Italy (ca. 900–1100),” in Diversi angoli di visuale. Fra Storia Medievale e Storia degli Ebrei” in ricordo di Michele Luzzati (Atti del Convegno di studi, Pisa, 13 febbraio 2016) (Biblioteca del Bollettino Storico Pisano, Società Storica Pisano 62), ed. Anna Maria Pult Quaglia and Alessandra Veronese (Pisa: Pacini, 2016), 85−102. See, more generally, the important work by Guido Kisch, “The Jews in Medieval Germany. A Bibliography of Publications on Their Legal and Social Status, 1949–1969.” Revue des Études Juives 130 (1971): 271–294. 10 On the fiscal and economic relationship between Jews and Christians in medieval Germany, see mainly Eveline Brugger, “Zinsverbot und Judenschaden. Jüdisches Geldgeschäft im mittelalterlichen Aschkenas,” Proceedings of the Conference on Zinsverbot und Judenschaden: jüdisches Geldgeschäft im mittelalterlichen Aschkenas (Vienna: Institut für jüdische Geschichte Österreichs, 2010), 1–8; and Martha Keil, “Geldleihe und mittelalterliche jüdische Gemeinde,” ibid., 28–35.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

As soon as they acquired some wealth, when their services became unnecessary, or in times of political instability, the Jews were once again at risk. They suffered plunders, annulment of debts owed to them, and expulsions from their towns of residence. The situation seriously deteriorated in times of great crisis, such as the Black Death, while political and religious upheavals triggered waves of hostility against the “nonbelievers.” The terrors of massacres, forced baptism, or immolation and martyrdom for the sake of the Jewish faith, expulsions, confiscation of goods, and torture forged, in many ways, Jewish life in Germany in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern era. Despite the constant angst hovering over their heads, the Jews of Germany kept their faith and their intellectual activity, and flourished primarily on the cultural and religious levels.11 Lacking a central self-government, they maintained a local and regional leadership in their communities.12 In a way, they constituted “a sub-group of society”—a term coined by Jacob Katz to describe the unique interaction between the local society and the Jews, which has been challenged by recent scholarship. Living in close proximity to their Christian neighbours, the Jews shared or witnessed most aspects of their life. Speaking the German vernacular and adopting non-Hebrew or non-Jewish names for daily use in their dealings outside the Jewish community, especially in official matters, are typical of this relationship.13 The same applies to their attire, a significant departure from the special costumes Jews were compelled to wear from the early thirteenth

11 The history of Jewish settlement in Germany in the Middle Ages is delineated by Michael Toch, “The Formation of a Diaspora: The Settlement of Jews in the Medieval German ‘Reich’,” Aschkenas; Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kultur der Juden 7, 1 (1997): 55–78. The maps and diagrams of the Jewish population in the relevant period are especially instructive. Compare also J.  [Isak] Münz. Jüdisches Leben im Mittelalter. Ein Beitrag zur Kulturgeschichte der Deutschen Juden. Leipzig: M. W. Kaufmann, 1930. 12 On the role of the rabbis in Germany in the Early Modern period, see Eric Zimmer, “Government and Leadership in the Communities of Germany in the 16th–17th Centuries,” in Kehal Yisrael. Jewish Self-Rule through the Ages, vol. 2: The Middle Ages and Early Modern Period, ed. Avraham Grossman and Yosef Kaplan (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2004), 270–274 (Hebrew). 13 See Israel Jacob Yuval, “Jews and Christians in the Middle Ages: Shared Myths, Common Language,” in Robert S. Westrich, ed., Demonizing the Other: Antisemitism, Racism and Xenophobia (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1999), 88−107. On the description of Jews as minority within Christian society and the various shades of Jewish involvement in the local society, see Gerd Mentgen, “‘Die Juden waren stets eine Randgruppe’. Über eine fragwürdige Prämisse der aktuellen Judenforschung,” in Liber amicorum necnon et amicarum für Alfred Heit: Beiträge zur mittelalterlichen Geschichte und geschichtlichen Landeskunde (Trierer historische Forschungen  28),  ed. Friedhelm Burgard, Christoph Cluse, Alfred Haverkamp (Trier: THF, Verlag Trierer historische Forschungen, 1996), 393−411.

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period 

 27

century onward as a visual distinction between them and the Christians.14 Contacts between the Jews and their German compatriots existed on many levels,15 mainly, but not exclusively, to meet mutual economic needs. Although more or less socially marginalised, stereotyped, and often persecuted, the Jews in medieval and Early Modern Germany did not remain outside the parameters of local culture.16 During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, they were still subject to the will of the local monarchs and the free cities.17 14 For the historical details, see Raphael Strauss, “The Jewish Hat as an Aspect of Social History,” Jewish Social Studies, 4 (1942): 59–72. 15 Some enlightening examples, especially regarding monetary transactions and Christian household helpers working in Jewish homes, are given by Martha Keil, “Nähe und Abgrenzung: die mittelalterliche Stadt als Raum der Begegnung,” in Nicht in einem Bett; Juden und Christen in Mittelalter und Frühneuzeit (Vienna: Institut für Geschichte der Juden in Österreich, 2005), 2–8. 16 On the interrelations between Jews and Christians in the Middle Ages, see Jonathan M. Elukin, Living Together, Living Apart: Rethinking Jewish-Christian Relations in the Middle Ages (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2007). For a more specific scope, see Rotraud Ries, “German Territorial Princes and the Jews,” in In and Out of the Ghetto. Jewish-Gentile Relations in Late Medieval and Early Modern Germany, ed. Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia and Hartmut Lehmann (Washington, DC: German Historical Institute / Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 215–245. See further Anna Sapir Abulafia, “From Northern Europe to Southern Europe and from the General to the Particular: Recent Research on Jewish-Christian Coexistence in Medieval Europe,” Journal of Medieval History 23, no. 2 (1997): 179–190. For a study of Jewish life in the Early Modern Period, see Dean Phillip Bell, Jewish Identity in Early Modern Germany: Memory, Power and Community (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007). See also idem, “The Little Ice Age and the Jews: Environmental History and the Mercurial Nature of Jewish-Christian Relations in Early Modern Germany,” AJS Review 32, no. 1 (2008): 1–27, especially his chapter on “Assessing Jewish and Christian Relations in Early Modern Germany,” 1–8. 17 A vast resource for the history of the Jews in Germany in the Middle Ages can be found in Guido Kisch, The Jews in Medieval Germany: A Study of Their Legal and Social Status (2nd ed.; New York: Ktav, 1970). See also Simon Schwarzfuchs, “Les communautés en Allemagne (XIVe– XVIIe siècles),” in Mille ans de cultures ashkénazes (Librairie européenne des idées), ed. Jean Baumgarten et al. (Paris: Liana Levi, 1994), 76–81; idem, “Naissance, développement et organization des communautés ashkénazes,” op. cit., 15–23. Of the important studies on the Jews in Early Modern Europe, with a special emphasis on Germany, see mainly Friedrich Battenberg, Das Europäische Zeitalter der Juden; Zur Entwicklung einer Minderheit in der nichtjüdischen Umwelt Europas (erw. Aufl.) (Darmstadt: Primus, 2000 [©1990]); as well as idem, “Des Kaisers Kammerknechte. Gedanken zur rechtlich-sozialen Situation der Juden in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit,” Historische Zeitschrift 145 (1987): 545–599. See also Shlomo Eidelberg. Medieval Ashkenazic History: Studies on German Jewry in the Middle Ages. An I. Edward Kiev Library Foundation volume. (Brooklyn: Sepher-Hermon, 2001) vol. 2: Hebrew Essays, 1–10 (Hebrew); and Stefan Rohrbacher, “Die jüdischen Gemeinden in den Medinot Ashkenas zwischen Spätmittelalter und Dreiβigjährigen Krieg,” in Jüdische Gemeinden und ihr christlicher Kontext in kulturräumlich vergleichender Betrachtung von der Spätantike bis zum 18. Jahrhundert, ed. Christoph Cluse, Alfred Haverkamp, and Israel J. Yuval (Hanover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 2003), 451–463; and

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Christian interest in Hebrew and Judaism gained impetus toward the end of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century as a byproduct of Renaissance Humanism and the Reformation.18 Christian Hebraists and theologians entertained, albeit on a relatively modest scale, fruitful scholastic and intellectual interaction with their Jewish contemporaries who tutored them in the Hebrew language, the Hebrew Bible, fundamental Jewish texts, and kabbalah. As Jerome Friedman has noted, “paradoxically, these efforts entailed close intellectual cooperation with Jewish scholars who opposed Christianity in all its forms.”19 The simple folks of the Jewish community were also familiar with life in non-Jewish circles. Daily encounters with the surrounding Christian society on countless levels exposed them to norms and customs, folklore and beliefs that gradually seeped into their own world and eventually found their way into Jewish popular culture.20 In Joseph Gutmann’s words, “Jews shared not only Christian

Alfred Haverkamp, “Lebensbedingungen der Juden im spätmittelalterlichen Deutschland,” in Zerbrochene Geschichte. Leben und Selbstverständnis der Juden in Deutschland, ed. Dirk Blasius and Dan Diner (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch, 1991), 11–31. Eric Zimmer attends to the religious-spiritual life in the relevant period in his discussion on the rabbinate in Germany in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. See his book Gahaltan Shel Hakhamim: Perakim beToldot haRabbanut beGermanyah baMe’ah haShesh-'Esreh uvaMe’ah haSheva’-'Esreh (Beersheba: Ben-Gurion University Press, 1999) (Hebrew). 18 An interesting evaluation of the phenomenon is brought by Stephen E. Burnett, From Christian Hebraism to Jewish Studies: Johannes Buxtorf (1564–1629) and Hebrew Learning in the Seventeenth Century (Studies in the History of Christian Thought 68) (Leiden: Brill, 1996); and idem, “Jüdische Vermittler des Hebräischen und ihre christlichen Schüler im Spätmittelalter,” in Wechselseitige Wahrnehmung der Religionen im Spätmittelalter und in der Frühen Neuzeit Konzeptionelle Grundfragen und Fallstudien. I. (Heiden, Barbaren, Juden), ed. Ludger Grenzmann et al. (Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 2009), 173–188. See also the study of the rise of “German ethnography” by Fabrizio Lelli; Review of The Jew’s Mirror (Der Juden Spiegel) by Johannes Pfefferkorn, translated by Ruth I. Cape, with a Historical Introduction by Maria Diemling, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 390 (Tempe, AZ: Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2012), The Catholic Historical Review 99, no. 1 (2013): 149; and Yaacov Deutsch, Judaism in Christian Eyes: Ethnographic Descriptions of Jews and Judaism in Early Modern Europe, translated from Hebrew by Avi Aronsky (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), who, in his introduction (especially 4–12), links the phenomenon to the the upwelling of ethnographic interest in Europe as a result of colonialism and exposure to foreign cultures, and illustrates the Hebraist ethnographies of the Early Modern period in this context. 19 Jerome Friedman, The Most Ancient Testimony, Sixteenth-Century Christian Hebraica in the Age of Renaissance Nostalgia (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press 1983), 1. 20 The impact of folk culture on “normative” Judaism is illustrated by Joshua Trachtenberg, “The Folk Element in Judaism,” The Journal of Religion 22, no. 2 (Apr., 1942), 173–186.

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period 

 29

fears and anxieties, but also Christian folk life, superstitions, and customs which were ingeniously adapted and transformed for Jewish use.”21 Ivan G. Marcus further maintains that there were, in effect, two levels of acculturation among the Ashkenazi Jews. In his words: I propose, then, that we distinguish between modern or outward acculturation, and premodern or inward acculturation. The former refers to . . . the processes of modernization and secularization during the last two centuries . . . The latter refers to premodern cases . . . when Jews who did not assimilate or convert to the majority culture retained an unequivocal Jewish identity . . . I will argue [that] Jews adopted Christian themes . . . and fused them – often in inverted and parodied ways – with ancient Jewish customs and traditions.22

This was a slow, subconscious process that occured mainly in the realm of the life cycle, so heavily laden with joys, but equally marked with awe and fear that resulted in resorting to magic and apotropaic measures to overcome any potential detriment. Whether taken over from the Germanic culture or from Christianity, generally the explicit foreign attribute was eventually substitutted by a new Jewish interpretation.23 There can be little doubt, therefore, that the Jews who lived in Germany in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period were in many ways part of the general culture, despite their forced exclusion from many trades, including most forms of active artistic production.24 Prevented from joining artisans’ guilds due to their Christian nature and the prescribed Christian vow of allegiance to the union by 21 Joseph Gutmann, “Christian Influences on Jewish Customs,” in Spirituality and Prayer. Jewish and Christian Understandings, ed. Leon Klenicki and Gabe Huck (New York: Paulist, 1983), 130. See also Christoph Daxelmüller. “Jewish Popular Culture in the Research Perspective of European Ethnology.” Ethnologia Europea 16 (1986): 97–116; and more specifically with regards to the German culture, idem. “Die deutschsprachige Volkskunde und die Juden. Zur Geschichte und den Folgen einer kulturellen Ausklammerung.” Zeitschrift für Volkskunde 83 (1987): 1–20. Two important studies on German folk art are Konrad Hahm, Deutsche Volkskunst (Berlin: Deutsche Buch-Gemeinschaft GmbH, 1928); and Hans Karlinger, Deutsche Volkskunst (Berlin: Propyläen, 1938). 22 Ivan G. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood: Jewish Acculturation in Medieval Europe (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), 10−11. 23 The Hollekreisch is one such example, discussed by Gutmann, “Christian Influences,” 130– 132. Another example is the ceremony of breaking the glass at weddings, which Gutmann mentions briefly on p. 133. See also idem, The Jewish Life Cycle (Iconography of Religions, Section XXIII: Judaism, Fasc. 4) (Leiden: Brill, 1987), 8. 24 A valuable source on intercultural influence is Katrin Kogman-Appel, “Christianity, Idolatry, and the Question of Jewish Figural Painting in the Middle Ages,” Speculum; a Journal of Medieval Studies 84, 1 (2009), 73−107. See also idem, “Jewish Art and Cultural Exchange: Theoretical Perspectives,” Medieval Encounters; Jewish, Christian and Muslim Culture in Confluence and Dialogue 17, nos. 1−2 (2011), 1−26.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

no means implied blindness of the Jews to current artistic trends.25 Whenever they wished to commission a sumptuous ritual object made of precious metals, they were compelled to order it from a Christian goldsmith. Looking into his inventory of objects, the items for sale in his shop, or his model book, they then described the modifications and required adaptations for their particular use, while delineating the decorative scheme so that nothing offensive to their beliefs would embellish their new acquisition. The same is true for ceremonial objects for home use, which were fashioned by Christian masters as a matter of course, albeit with the necessary adjustments to Jewish prescriptions and iconographic vocabulary. Obviously, this applied only to members of the Jewish economic elite, who rose to significant material possessions due to their dealings with the local sovereign and the nobility, and who could afford such expenditures. The simple folk, on the other hand, produced its own ceremonial and ritual objects and settled for objects made of lesser materials. Many such items were mass-produced for the entire population—Christian and Jewish alike—and were often utilised for mundane purposes with no religious intention. Jews who bought such objects either used them in their original form, or added some Jewish features—whether decorative or inscribed—to designate them for special use. Such are, for example, pewter plates with added inscriptions in Hebrew, marking them as dairy or meat dishes or for use on particular occasions such as Shabbat, Purim or Passover. Similarly, adding a depiction of an

25 The occupations of the Jews within official frameworks of craftsmanship are discussed extensively by Mark Wischnitzer, A History of Jewish Crafts and Guilds (New York: J. David, 1965). The author does mention Jewish participation in the bookbinding and printing trades, but does not relate to training towards manuscript production—neither scribal art of copying nor illustrating— under the aegis of the guilds in any part of Europe. For an earlier study by the same author, see Mark Wischnitzer, “Notes to a History of the Jewish Guilds,” in Beauty in Holiness. Studies in Jewish Customs and Ceremonial Art, ed. Joseph Gutmann (New York: Ktav, 1970), 15–33. On the specific situation of the Jewish craftsmen in Germany in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period, see Michael Haendel, Melakhah uVa'alei Melakhah be'Am Yisra’el. leToldot haMelakhah beQerev haYehudim miYemei Qedem ve'Ad Yamenu. (Tel Aviv: Chechik, 5716 [1954−1955]), 40–42 (Hebrew). For Bohemia and Moravia, see Mark Wischnitzer, Origins of the Jewish Artisan Class in Bohemia and Moravia, 1500–1648 (New York: Conference on Jewish Relations, 1954) (rep. from Jewish Social Studies 16, no. 4), 335–350. See further Birgit Wiedl, “Eine zünftige Gemeinde. Handwerkszünfte und jüdische Gemeindeorganisation im Vergleich”, in Nicht in einem Bett, 44– 49. Maria Stürzebecher and Andreas Lehnertz are currently collecting material on Jewish artisans and their participation in the artistic scene in the Middle Ages within the framework of guilds. Their preliminary findings seriously question this conclusive all-encompassing statement.

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period 

 31

etrog (citron) onto a sugar bowl could easily “convert” it into an etrog box for the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot).26 Mordechai Narkiss described the complexity of the interaction between European Jews who commissioned ritual objects and Christian goldsmiths based on isolated cases in his article “The Origin of the Spicebox Known as the ‘Hadas,’” published originally in Hebrew in 1960 and later translated into English and augmented by Bezalel Narkiss in 1981.27 Particularly enlightening are his examples of spice boxes used for Havdalah at the close of Shabbat. Citing from the Probiermusterbuch der Goldschmiede 1512–76 from Frankfurt am Main, Narkiss found references to spice boxes commissioned by wealthy Jews from local Christian artisans. In 1550, for example, the master Johannes Stroklhäkker brought in for registration by the city council a “Juddenn monstranz” (Jewish monstrance), using Christian ecclesiastic nomenclature to describe a Jewish ceremonial object of a similar form.28 Another instance of using terms pertaining to Christian ecclesiastic ritual objects for Jewish religious objects includes the “Rauchfass” (censer), mentioned in 1532 as the colloquial parallel to “ein Hedes” in the registry made by the goldsmith Stefan Altman.29 In this specific context, the terms Hedes and Rauchfass, used in early documents as interchangeable equals, denote one and the same object. Hedes is a corrupt form of pronunciation for the Hebrew word ‫— ֲה ַדס‬ hadas or myrtle—the most common sweet-smelling herb used for the havdalah ceremony.30 Another alternative was to smell dried aromatic plants for the same purpose. As both the Rauchfass and the herbs for havdalah serve for ritual olfactory sensations, the shape of the vessel for the Jewish ritual could naturally follow the well-established form of the Christian liturgical censer. For this reason, the terminology in the court registry regarding the lawsuit filed by the Jew Joseph Goldschmidt against a Christian goldsmith from whom he had ordered a Hedes

26 On Jewish ceremonial art, mainly of German origin, housed in Bavariaian collections, see Bernward Deneke. “Jüdische Zeremonialgeräte in Bayern,” in Geschichte und Kultur der Juden in Bayern, Aufsätze, edited by Manfred Tremmel and Josef Kirmeier (Munich: K. G. Saur, 1988), 51–70. 27 Mordechai Narkiss, “The Origin of the Spicebox Known as the ‘Hadas,’” Eretz Israel 6 (1960): 189–198 (Hebrew); and a later version, idem, “Origins of the Spice Box,” Journal of Jewish Art 8 (1981): 28–41 (completed and augmented by Bezalel Narkiss). 28 See in greater detail in the chapter on havdalah, 249–261. 29 Narkiss, “Origins of the Spicebox,”: 37–8. 30 The Probiermusterbuch is kept in the City Archive of Frankfurt am Main.

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oder Rauchfass maintains the typical Jewish terminus technicus alongside the colloquial terminology with which the court was surely familiar.31 This and other instances prove that European Jews, including those living in Germany, witnessed works of art and artisanship in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period as a matter of course. They encountered artistic grandeur by merely passing through towns and villages with their flowering churches, ornate city halls and other public buildings, and even private palaces and homes of the local financial elite. Their sculpted facades, stained glass windows, and ornamental latticework gratings offered the finest examples of contemporary art. Moreover, daily life in a German town entailed constant interaction with art also in the vicinity of the central fountain or in the marketplace, where they could find printed broadsheets, or through the acquisition of printed books.32 In some cases, manuscripts, primarily in the Middle Ages, were the product of collaboration between Jewish patrons or scribes and Christian artists.33 Other Jews, mainly pawnbrokers, had access to both secular and sacred Christian works of art. In short, art was visually present in every city, town, or even village in Germany. Wherever they lived, or in places they traversed, the Jews observed, absorbed, appropriated, and adapted current artistic trends to their own creativity and subsequent use.34 To quote Katrin Kogman-Appel, “The process of creating Jewish

31 Narkiss, “Origins of the Spicebox,” 38. For more on the lawsuit, see Walther Karl Zülch, “Das Hedes. Ein rätselhaftes Werk der Frankfurter Goldschmiedekunst,” Alt-Frankfurt I–lI (1928–1929): 61–62. 32 Kalman P. Bland illustrates additional modes of interaction between Jews and Christian works of art in The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 141. 33 See the discussion by Jacob Leveen, The Hebrew Bible in Art (The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy) (New York: Hermon, 1974), 83–85. Eva Frojmovic convincingly demonstrates the collaboration between Jewish and Christian makers of Hebrew manuscripts in “Early Ashkenazic Prayer Books and Their Christian Illuminators,” in van Boxel and Arndt, Crossing Borders, 45–56. Compare Sarit Shalev-Eyni, Jews among Christians: A Hebrew School of Illuminations of the Lake Constance Region (Turnhout: Brepols / London: Harvey Miller, 2010). 34 See further Dean Phillip Bell, “Jewish Settlement, Politics, and the Reformation,” in Jews, Judaism, and the Reformation in Sixteenth-Century Germany, ed. Dean Phillip Bell and Stephen G. Burnett (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 421–450. In fact, exposure to art as such and the symbolism it presents was inevitable in medieval society (as it is nowadays). See Madeline Harrison Caviness, “Reception of Images by Medieval Viewers,” in A Companion to Medieval Art: Romanesque and Gothic in Northern Europe, ed. Conrad Rudolph (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2006), 65−85. On Jewish reception of Christian art, see Sara Offenberg, “Staging the Blindfold Bride: Between Medieval Drama and Piyyut Illumination in the Levy Mahzor,” in Resounding Images: Medieval Intersections of Art, Music and Sound, ed. Susan Boynton and Diane J. Reilly (Turnhout: Brepols 2015) 288–299.

The Jews of Germany in the Early Modern Period 

 33

narrative art in Hebrew manuscripts . . . often appears as a process of translating non-Jewish pictorial sources into a Jewish pictorial language.”35 Jewish life is forged by two channels of directives, proscriptions and restrictions, which have a distinctively different nature. The Jewish code of law, or halakhah, plays an extremely important role in Jewish existence, as does minhag (Hebrew for “custom”), a set of religious obligations without the authority of the formal halakhah, but to which practising Jews adhere with equal zeal. Custom generally evolves in different ways, often emanating from the community and then seeking rabbinic ratification (and legislation), or by simply emulating rabbinic celebrities and their particular conduct.36 Often, minhag shows a high degree of local specificity. In fact, the multiple forms of contact between the Jews and their surrounding society resulted in the absorption and adoption of rites and customs of both Germanic and Christian origin much by way of osmosis and gradual adaptation to a Jewish way of living.37 It was only natural, then, that Jewish art and visual culture underwent a process similar to what André Grabar calls, albeit discussing an entirely different cultural milieu, “assimilation of contemporary imagery.”38 While the debate over the actual existence and essence of Jewish art had been raised by numerous scholars,39 one of the first being Bezalel Narkiss in his 35 Katrin Kogman-Appel, “Jewish Art and Non-Jewish Culture: The Dynamics of Artistic Borrowing in Medieval Hebrew Manuscript Illumination,” Jewish History 15 (2001), 189. 36 On the dynamics of halakha and minhag, see Ephraim Kanarfogel, “Progress and Tradition in Medieval Ashkenaz,” Jewish History, 14, no. 3, Time, Progress, and Memory: Between Jewish and Christian Time (2000), 287−315. The ways in which customs evolved and were maintained in Ashkenaz are further described by Joseph Isaac Lifshitz. “Custom in Ashkenaz in the Middle Ages,” in Minhagim: Custom and Practice in Jewish Life (Rethinking Diaspora 3), ed. by Joseph Isaac Lifshitz, Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, Simha Goldin, et al. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020), 73−81. 37 See Richard Andree, Zur Volkskunde der Juden (Bielefled: von Velhagen and Klasing, 1881), 129–193. The author convincingly argues that only through an in-depth study of Jewish involvement with the Christian society can one obtain a full understanding of local minhag. 38 André Grabar, Christian Iconography. A Study of its Origins (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980), 31–54. 39 One of the relatively recent studies on the theme, summarising and evaluating the state of research, is the aforementioned study by Bland, Artless Jew. A dissimilar view in many ways is offered in a review of the book by Gerald Blidstein, “Art and the Jew,” Review Essay on Kalman P. Bland, The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (2000), The Torah u-Madda Journal 10 (2001): 163–172. See also Felicitas Heimann-Jelinek, “Judaica: An Interface between Jewish and Non-Jewish Culture in Central Europe,” Studia Rosenthaliana 37 (2004): 147–162, especially her introductory discussion on 147–150. On limited periods in Jewish history, see Steven Fine, Art and Judaism in the Greco-Roman World: Toward a New Jewish Archaeology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 5–21; Fergus Millar, “Jews of the Graeco-Roman Diaspora,” in The Jews Among Pagans and Christians in the Roman Empire, ed. Judith Liew, Johan

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

challenging article “Does Jewish Art Exist?”40 Joseph Gutmann’s evaluation is, perhaps, the most instructive for our discussion. His thesis is that The history of Jewish art has been a manifestation of the historical processes that Jews have undergone. Because Jewish history, unlike that of other continuous entities, developed and evolved primarily within multiple societies, cultures and civilisations, it bears the imprimatur of this long and diverse multicultural experience . . . the style, decoration, and, often even the subject matter of the art of the Jews have always been rooted in and adapted from the dominant contemporary non-Jewish society.41

Incorporating indigenous Jewish religious codes, traditions, and lore with formalstylistic infiltrations from the local society by means of appropriation but even more so—through adaptation—created a no less unique manifestation of Jewish art. Its components are, to a degree, fused from a variety of sources of influence, modified to comply with Jewish law and custom. In other words, the Jews created a visual aesthetic language that echoed contemporary artistic trends in distinctive harmony, content, message, and usage that is often not clearly distinguishable from the artistic vocabulary of their non-Jewish environment.

The Nuremberg Miscellany and the Art of the Hebrew Book Unlike the mass-produced books of our time, an illuminated manuscript is a unique, handmade object. In its structure, layout, script, and decoration, every manuscript bears the hallmarks of the distinctive set of circumstances involved in its production, as it moved successively through the hands of the parchmenter, the scribe or copyist, one or more decorators or illuminators, and possibly other participants in the process of making the physical book.42 Yet, despite the gradually escalating popularity of printed books in the sixteenth century, many of

North, and Tessa Rajak (London and New York: Routledge 2013), 312–438; and Margaret Olin, The Nation without Art: Examining Modern Discourses on Jewish Art (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2001). 40 Bezalel Narkiss, “Does Jewish Art Exist?” Hauniversita 11, nos. 2–3 (1965): 31–40 (Hebrew). 41 Joseph Gutmann, “Is There a Jewish Art?” in The Visual Dimension: Aspects of Jewish Art, Published in Memory of Isaiah Shachar (1935–1977), ed. Clare Moore (Boulder: Westview Press, in cooperation with the Oxford Centre for Postgraduate Hebrew Studies, 1993), 14.‬‬ 42 On the role division between the professionals who typically took part in the making of a Hebrew manuscript, see Bezalel Narkiss, “The Relation between the Author, Scribe, Massorator and Illuminator in Medieval Manuscripts,” in La Paléographie Hébraïque Médiévale (actes du Colloque, Paris 11–13 Septembre 1972) (Paris: Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique 1974), 79–86.

The Nuremberg Miscellany and the Art of the Hebrew Book 

 35

Europe’s monarchs, courtiers, and aristocrats continued to commission manuscripts, mainly books of hours, for private devotion.43 While the popularity of the printed book was rising among the Jews as well,44 some documents continued to be handwritten, including community statutes, contracts, personal registries, private letters, and other forms of written communication. Most importantly, sacred texts, such as Torah scrolls for liturgical reading in the synagogue, continued to be handwritten in ink on parchment. In addition, select passages from the Torah inserted into the tefillin (phylacteries), and the text of mezuzot fastened to doorposts of the Jewish home, necessitated the work of a professional scribe. Furthermore, halakhah or minhag require the use of handwriting for other documents, such as ketubbot (sing. ketubbah, marriage contract), and giṭṭin (sing. geṭ, bill of divorce). For those and other special documents, such as mohel-books (circumcision manuals and registries), sifrei 'evronot (books for intercalating, or reconciling, the Jewish lunisolar and the Christian solar calendars),45 and amulets, people often ordered them to be professionally inscribed, and others were inscribed as autographs by their authors or owners. The Jewish intellectual elite, too, commissioned manuscripts, either for special occasions such as prayer books to give out as wedding gifts or to expand their libraries with books of special content, like astronomy or medicine. Others, influenced by the Christian courtly and bourgeois fashion, ordered lavishly executed manuscripts as presentation pieces or status symbols.46 In Germany, as a case in point, magnificent non-Jewish manuscripts continued to be produced through-

43 The Bischofschronik des Lorenz Fries (Mergentheim, 1489–Würzburg, 1550), written and illustrated in Würzburg in 1546, kept in Würzburg, Stadtarchiv, Ratsbuch 412, is one such example. See Bernward Deneke, ed., Siehe, der Stein schreit aus der Mauer: Geschichte und Kultur der Juden in Bayern. Eine Ausstellung veranstaltet vom Germanischen Nationalmuseum und vom Haus der Bayerischen Geschichte (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1988), no. 4/34, 181, photo on 183. 44 In the Jewish world, too, the new art of printing was readily adopted as a means of dissemination of ideas and knowledge in the sacred and secular realms alike. To the best of our knowledge, the first printed Hebrew books were issued shortly before the mid-fifteenth century. See Abraham M. Habermann, “The Jewish Art of the Printed Book,” in Jewish Art. An Illustrated History, ed. Cecil Roth, 458–470 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1961). 45 On this literary genre, see Elisheva Carlebach, “Palaces of Time: Illustration of Sifre Evronot,” Images: A Journal of Jewish Art and Visual Culture 2 (2008): 21–44; and idem, Palaces of Time: Jewish Calendar and Culture in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2011). 46 For the early history of manuscript illumination in the Jewish world, see Aron Freimann, “Zur Geschichte der jüdischen Buchillustration bis 1540,” Zeitschrift für hebräische Bibliographie 21 (1918): 25–32.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

out the sixteenth century—well into the age of printing. For example, the British Library’s German manuscript of the treatise on alchemy, Splendor Solis from 1582, a contemporary of the Hebrew Nuremberg Miscellany, presents superb artistic skill in its finely detailed illustrations of an extremely high quality.47 The Miscellany, in comparison, is by far more modest and of a much less masterful nature. The Nuremberg Miscellany, 8° Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203) of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg, is a parchment manuscript. According to the scribe’s colophon, found at the bottom of fol. 44v, beneath the concluding text of the book, its completion dates to 1589 (see Figure 12). The colophon, however, provides only partial information on the circumstances that led to the production of the manuscript, including the scribe’s name and patronymic,48 and the manuscript’s exact completion date. According to the inscription the copyist, who was presumably the compiler and possibly also the illustrator of the manuscript, was a certain Eli'ezer b. Mordechai the Martyr.49 He signed his colophon on Monday, 26 Kislev 1589 [December 3, 1589]. An attempt to find further information about this person

47 Solomon Trismosin, Splendor Solis, London, The British Library, Harley MS 3469, fol. 13b, shown in Janet Backhouse, The Illuminated Page. Ten Centuries of Manuscript Painting (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 234 and reproduction on 235. 48 In Jewish tradition, patronyms predate the use of family names and have their origin already in biblical times. Thus, the names of the master artisans of the Temple were Bezalel b. Uri and Oholiav b. Achisamach (Ex 31:6). Surnames appeared in the Jewish world only in the Middle Ages and in some places as late as the nineteenth century. On Jewish surnames, see the groundbreaking scholarly study by Leopold Zunz, Namen der Juden. Eine geschichtliche Untersuchung (Leipzig: L. Fort, 1837; reprint, Hildesheim: Gerstenberg, 1971). A brief essay on the subject is included in Johann Jakob Schudt, Jüdische Merckwürdigkeiten vorstellende was sich Curieuses und Denckwürdiges in den neuern Zeiten bey einigen Jahr-hunderten mit denen in alle IV. Theile der Welt, sonderlich durch Teutschland, zerstreuten Juden zugetragen, sammt einer vollständigen Franckfurter Juden-Chronick, darinnen der zu Franckfurt am Mayn wohnenden Juden, von einigen Jahr-hunderten, biss auff unsere Zeiten, merckwürdigste Begebenheiten enthalten . . . / beschrieben von Johann Jacob Schudt (Frankfurt am Main: S. T. Hocker, 1714–1718; reprint, Berlin: Lamm, 1922), Bd. 3 (1714): 151–154. 49 It is customary to append the word ‫( ַה ָּקדֹוׁש‬lit. Heb. = the holy) to the name of Jewish martyrs. It derives from the concept of Kiddush haShem, namely martyrdom for the sanctification of God’s Name in time of persecution. The term was particularly frequent in the context of the encounter between the Crusaders and the Jews of Europe. Both Latin and Hebrew narrative accounts reveal that Jews killed their own families and then themselves in order to avoid forced baptism. See further Simha Goldin, “The Socialisation for Kiddush ha-Shem among Medieval Jews,” Journal of Medieval History 23, no. 2 (1997): 117–138; and on the concept of Jewish martyrology in general, idem, The Ways of Jewish Martyrdom, ed. C. Michael Copeland and trans. Yigal Levin (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008).

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Figure 12: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs.   7058 (Rl. 203)]

yielded no results. To date, there is no record of the scribe in other catalogued or otherwise known manuscripts.50 It is not clear into which category the Nuremberg Miscellany should fall. Its unparalleled text compilation on the one hand, and the naïve, untrained illustrations executed on the costly parchment on the other hand, are a puzzling example of Hebrew manuscript production. Its illustrations are hardly mindful of volume, depth, or perspective, and their folk art nature suggests that an unprofessional artist, possibly even the scribe himself, may have executed them. The painted pen drawings reflect contemporary stylistic trends, which clearly show the inspiration of hand-coloured woodcut and engraved illustrations, introduced

50 The main search for comparative manuscripts took place at the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscript (IMHM) in the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem. I wish to extend my thanks to the staff of the IMHM, especially to Dr. Avraham David, Benjamin Richler and Yael Okun for their assistance along my many years of studying Hebrew illuminated manuscripts in general and during the preparation of this book in particular.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

into printed books decades earlier,51 though still prevalent in both manuscripts and prints in the late sixteenth century.52 Bearing in mind that printing had already been employed in Ashkenazi Jewish book making in Central Europe more than a century earlier,53 the existence of a parchment Hebrew manuscript of such unique content and nature is rather uncommon. The Miscellany, richly adorned and illustrated with multicolour paint and powdered gold,54 stands out as a relic of traditional manuscript production that was commonplace in Ashkenaz in the Middle Ages. In fact, the scarcity of handwritten codices of Ashkenazi origin from the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century—namely manuscripts from the age of printing—is striking.55 Of the

51 See, for example, the hand-coloured woodcut showing a comet over Nuremberg in October 1580, cut by Hans Mack in Nuremberg shortly thereafter, presently kept in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. HB2806. It is reproduced in Hermann Maué and Christine Kupper, eds., Treasures of German Art and History in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2001), 94; or the Gebet zu Sankt Dionysius um Schutz gegen die Krankheit Malafranzos, printed in Nuremberg by Georg Stuchs ca. 1497, shown in Bettina Wagner, ed., Als die Lettern laufen lernten. Medienwandel im 15. Jahrhundert. Inkunabeln aus der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek München (Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München. Ausstellungskataloge, No. 81) (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert, 2009), no. 66, 172 and reproduction on 173. 52 One such Hebrew manuscript in which contours surround even the tiniest painted unit in the composition with totally flat colouring is the grammatical miscellany, probably from 1543, currently in Berlin Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Ms. or. quart. 2, described by Petra Werner, Kitwe-Jad. Jüdische Handschriften. Restaurieren-Bewahren-Präsentieren (Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Ausstellungskataloge N.F. 47a), Ausstellungskatalog der Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, 4. Juli 2002–17. August 2002 (Berlin: Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, 2002), 142 and photos on 134 and 143. 53 On Hebrew incunables, see Lazarus Goldschmidt, Hebrew Incunables: A Bibliographical Essay, trans. from the German manuscript by Immanuel Goldsmith (Oxford: B. H. Blackwell, 1948); David Fränkel, Hebräische Inkunabeln, 1475–1494 (Vienna: D. Fränkel [1932?]). By the early sixteenth century, the trade of book production had spread to the north and east into Central Europe. See Moshe Rosenfeld, Hebrew Printing from its Beginning until 1948: A Gazetteer of Printing, the First Books and Their Dates with Photographed Title-Pages and Bibliographical Notes (Jerusalem: M. Rosenfeld, 1992) (Introduction in English and Hebrew, bibliographical notes in Hebrew); Yeshayahu Vinograd, “Hebrew Press in the Sixteenth Century (1540–1640),” Alei Sefer 15 (1988–1989): 129–132 (Hebrew); as well as Stephen G. Burnett, “German Jewish Printing in the Reformation Era (1530–1633),” in Bell and Burnett, Jews, Judaism, and the Reformation, 503–527. 54 Preparation and application of this special kind of tint involves the mixture of powdered gold with Gum Arabic, resulting in a kind of gold ink applied with a pen or brush. This type of gold tint is inferior to the more lavish use of burnished gold. 55 For a study delineating the production of manuscripts in the age of printing in general, being a chapter in the history of the Jewish book, see Emile G. L. Schrijver, “Jewish Book Culture since

The Nuremberg Miscellany and the Art of the Hebrew Book 

 39

few coeval existing manuscripts from the German-speaking realm, registered at the Institute for Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts of the National Library of Israel in Jerusalem, many are in Old Yiddish,56 compared to the Nuremberg Miscellany which is in Hebrew. Others are on paper, unlike the parchment Miscellany, and they are generally unadorned or have only sparse feather-drawn ink embellishments. Some Ashkenazi manuscripts from around the turn of the seventeenth century contain biblical texts or paraphrases in Yiddish, as in the book of Job of 1578–1589,57 or the Pentateuch with the traditional readings from the Prophets following the public chanting of the weekly Torah portion, written for women in Germany in the sixteenth century.58 Other manuscripts of that period are mostly liturgical texts, copied on paper with no illustrations or decorations whatsoever.59 the Invention of Printing (1469 – c. 1815),” in Jonathan Karp and Adam Sutcliffe (eds.) The Cambridge History of Judaism. Vol. VII. The Early Modern World, 1500–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 291–315. The inclusion of illustrations in such manuscripts is described in general in Ernest Naményi, “The Illumination of Hebrew Manuscripts after the Invention of Printing,” in Jewish Art. An Illustrated History, ed. Cecil Roth (Tel Aviv: Massadah, 1961), cols. 423–454; and regarding the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, idem, “La miniature juive au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle,” Revue des Études Juives CXVI (N.S. XVI) (1957): 27–41. See also Marc Michael Epstein, “In the Royal Court: Jewish Illumination in an Age of Printing,” in Skies of Parchment, Seas of Ink. Jewish Illuminated Manuscripts, edited by Diane Wolfthal, 215–228 (Princeton, NJ; Oxford, UK: Princeton University Press, 2015). 56 Such as the festival prayer book according to the German rite, copied around 1560 by Isaac b. Mordechai haKohen, alias Isaac Lankosh of Krakow, kept in London, The British Library, MS Add. 27071. Fol. 2r of the manuscript is shown in Ilana Tahan, Hebrew Manuscripts. The Power of Script and Image (London: The British Library, 2007), no. 76, 89. See also the miscellany of tales in Yiddish from Germany, probably from the sixteenth century, currently in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 100, described in Andreas Nachama and Gereon Sievernich, eds., Jüdische Lebenswelten. Katalog (Berlin: Berliner Festspiele) (Frankfurt am Main: Jüdischer Verlag / Berlin: Suhrkamp, 1991), 123, no. 6/38. 57 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 306. The manuscript was copied on paper in Rückingen by Abraham b. Samuel from Picardie and was intended for women. It does not include any decoration at all. Another manuscript, probably from the sixteenth century, is a Pentateuch with hafṭarot (the weekly liturgical reading from the Prophets) in Yiddish translation, currently in Tübingen, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Staatsbibliothek, Ms. Or. qu. 691. This paper manuscript contains only a single feather drawing at the beginning of Deuteronomy, on fol. 239v. 58 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Ms. or. quart. 691, described in Werner, Kitwe-Jad, 50 and photo on 51. 59 Such as the maḥzor (prayer book for the festivals) for the High Holidays with a Yiddish translation, completed by Eliaqim b. Simeon, alias Zalman Auerbach in 1590, currently in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 89. Another example is a miscellany that includes a mys-

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Another category of late sixteenth and early seventeenth century Jewish manuscripts from the German-speaking realm is of halakhic nature, including books of customs,60 kabbalistic texts, astronomic and astrologic books for the calculation of the Jewish calendar,61 and ritual prescriptions.62 This is the largest body of Hebrew and Yiddish manuscripts preserved from that period. Hardly any of these books is on parchment and—with the exception of the calendric genre— most of them do not contain any illustrations. They were certainly not status symbols for the aristocracy or intended as splendid gifts. Rather, they may have been created to satisfy a need for collections of texts for a particular yeshivah (rabbinical academy), beit midrash (institute for religious study), or for special use by an individual. In short, these manuscripts are all relatively simple in their material and technique, quite unlike the lavish Nuremberg Miscellany, with its parchment leaves and elaborate decorative scheme. Another group of Early Modern manuscripts is that of miscellanies, probably used as private anthologies or manuals. The patrons who commissioned them, or the scribes themselves in cases of an autograph, were interested in the various texts and wished to have them all inscribed in a sequence in one manuscript, according to their personal liking or need. Alternatively, these were gatherings of separate oeuvres from different sources and by different scribes bound

tical commentary on the Pentateuch, Leqet Qaẓar, and glosses to the Prophets. The miscellany was copied on paper around 1550 and includes no decorations whatsoever. It, too, is currently in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 66. 60 On custom-related books in Yiddish in general, see Jean Baumgarten, “La tradition des livres de coutumes (Sifrei minhagim) en yiddish dans le monde ashkénaze (XVIe–XVIIIe siècles),” in Storie di Ebrei fra Asburgo e l’Italia: Diaspore/Galuyyot, ed. Cristina Benussi (Udine: Gaspari, 2003), 15–22; as well as the study of the persistence of this type of literature into the age of printing; idem, “Prières, rituels, pratiques: la tradition des livres de coutumes en langue yiddish (XVIe siècle),” Revue de l’Histoire des Religions 3 (2001): 369–403 (English version: “Prayer, Ritual and Practice in Ashkenazic Jewish Society: The Tradition of Yiddish Custom Books in the Fifteenth to Eighteenth Centuries,” Studia Rosenthaliana 36 (2003): 111–146). See also Herman Pollak, “An Historical Explanation of the Origin and Development of Jewish Books of Customs (‘Sifre Minhagim’),” Jewish Social Studies 49, nos. 3–4 (1987): 195–216. 61 Studied by Carlebach, Palaces of Time. 62 An early example of this literary genre is a book that contains Minhagei Maharil, Berakhot of Maharam, She'arei Dura, and a ketubbah which is dated 1526. It was compiled in Worms by Judah b. Abraham between 24 Kislev 5277 and 14 Shvaṭ 5277, corresponding to November 29, 1516 to January 7, 1517. The halakhic miscellany is currently in Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Inv. No. B.H. 26. Another manuscript, a Minhogim in Yiddish from Germany, presumably of the sixteenth century, preserved only as a fragment of a large-scale opus, and to-date includes comparisons from aggadic literature. It is presently in Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Hebr. oct. 34.

The Nuremberg Miscellany and the Art of the Hebrew Book 

 41

together by their owners.63 Other collections, such as mohel-books, were typically inscribed by the mohel (circumciser) for himself and included the liturgy to be recited on the occasion and the details of the infants he circumcised.64 Another example is a medical prescription handbook in Yiddish from Germany, copied in the early sixteenth century, probably after 1505.65 Such books often included private, secret remedy formulae. They were consequently produced in a single copy, an autograph, compiled for strictly personal use. Privately collected compendia also included secular texts. German tales rendered in Yiddish, compiled in Tannhausen in the sixteenth century by Isaac b. Judah Reutlingen and Binyamin b. Joseph Rofé of the Merks family, are one such example.66 Another sixteenth-century literary collection in Yiddish is the work of an anonymous scribe.67 Additional contemporary manuscripts are in Hebrew, such as the grammatical compendium, copied in sixteenth-century Germany, which includes works by twelfth-century Jewish scholar R. Moses Qimḥi.68 Of particular importance on the local level is the genre of the Memorbuch (Book of Remembrance, plur. Memorbücher).69 The tradition of recording names of martyred victims in a Memorbuch dates back to the days of the first crusade 63 One personally devised miscellany, for example, contains diverse texts, such as kabbalistic writings, the testament of R. Judah heHasid, and mathematical treatises, and includes the inscriptions from the synagogue and miqveh (ritual bath) of Worms. It was copied in Worms by Eli'ezer b. Samuel Braunschweig of Worms in the mid-sixteenth century, and is kept in Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Hebr. oct. 256. Another manuscript of this kind is a miscellany that contains colophons of two different scribes. It includes, among others, poetical texts, She'arei Ẓion—a treatise on rituals of the Rhineland by Zalman Zion of Bingen—and a compendium of rituals, Sefer Ḥayei 'Olam. The manuscript is kept in Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, CH 136 (Uff. 87). 64 Unlike church records, these books were not the property of the community but belonged to the mohel. 65 Stuttgart, Württembergishes Landesbibliothek, H.B. XI. Phys. med. math. 18. 66 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 100. The scribe’s name is written on fol. 191r. 67 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 347. 68 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, Ms. or. quart. 2, described in Nachama and Sievernich, Jüdische Lebenswelten, 124, no. 6/40. 69 A Memorbuch is a book of local nature, dedicated to the memory of martyrs. The first known Memorbuch is from Nuremberg. It was initiated in 1296 by Isaac b. Samuel of Meiningen (d. 1298) and includes events that took place between 1296 and the late fourteenth century. See Juden in Deutschland (Quellen zur Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland, 3), ed. Siegmund Salfeld, Berlin: Leonhard Simion, 1898; Rainer Barzen, “Das Nürnberger Memorbuch. Eine Einführung.” in Corpus der Quellen zur Geschichte der Juden im spätmittelalterlichen Reich, edited by Alfred Haverkamp and Jörg R. Müller, Trier, Mainz 2011, http://www.medieval-ashkenaz.org/NM01/einleitung. html (accessed April 29, 2020). On Memorbücher in general, see Magnus Weinberg, “Das Memorbuch,” in Buch der Erinnerung: das Wiener Memorbuch der Fürther Klaus-Synagoge, ed. Bern-

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

(1096 CE) and became widespread in Jewish communities in central Europe especially after pogroms. The Memorbücher, which were unique to each community, were used on specific occasions, particularly on days of remembrance in community life, and became part of the synagogue liturgy when the custom was to read the names of the martyrs publically from the bimah (the platform in the synagogue for the recitation of Scripture). Naturally, therefore, they were handwritten, with documentation of later atrocities added subsequently.70 Other genres of literature appeared in print from the late sixteenth century onwards, gaining popularity in the seventeenth century and later. One such type is the Techines, or supplications, intended primarily for women.71 Their focal point is—though not exclusively—the three major religious temporal obligations incumbent upon Jewish women, namely time-bound positive miẓvot:72 These are Ḥallah, Niddah, and Hadlaqat haNer, abbreviated as ḤaNaH. Ḥallah consists of the separation of a small part of the dough before it is baked into bread in remembrance of the earlier custom of donating it to the priests;73 Niddah (Heb. lit. “moved,” “separated”) refers to the time in which the woman is considered impure and forbidden to her husband, implying prohibition of sexual intercourse hard Purin (Fürth: Jüdisches Museum Franken  – Fürth und Schnaittach, 1999), 9–26; Felicitas Heimann-Jelinek, “Memorbücher: ‘milieux de mémoire,’” in ibid., 27–38. 70 This was the case, for example, with the Memorbuch from Minden from the early seventeenth century. The paper manuscript was copied in 1615 by Ya'aqov Ganz in Franko-Burg. It is in Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. hebr. oct. 97. 71 Techines (Yiddish pronunciation for the Hebrew teḥinot or supplications) are private devotions and paraliturgical prayers in Yiddish, the lingua franca of the Jews of Central Europe, recited primarily by women. They became popular in the seventeenth century. On the genre, see Chava Weissler, “Women’s Studies and Women’s Prayers: Reconstructing the Religious History of Ashkenazic Women,” Jewish Social Studies n.s. 1:2 (winter, 1995), 28–47; and in a broader study by the same author, Voices of the Matriarchs: Listening to the Prayers of Early Modern Jewish Women (Boston: Beacon, 1999). See also Simon Neuberg, “Tkhines Revisited: MS Oppenheim 666 and the Printed Context,” in Jewish Studies Quarterly 26 (2019): 243–257. 72 Based on M. Kiddushin 1:7. Most religious obligations in Judaism are incumbent on men, whereas women are generally exempt from the positive commandments that are bound to a particular time or place, yet they may choose to comply with them with certain limitations. The three temporal obligations described here remained the most significant ones applying exclusively to women. See Shalom Sabar, “Mitzvot Hannah: Visual Depictions of the ‘Three Women’s Commandments’ among the Jews of Europe from the Middle Ages to Late Nineteenth Century,” in Textures – Culture, Literature, Folklore for Galit Hasan-Rokem, eds. Hagar Salamon and Avigdor Shinan (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2013), vol. 2, 383–413 (Hebrew). Compare the chapter “Positive Time-Bound Commandments: Class, Gender, and Transformation” in Elisheva Baumgarten, Practicing Piety in Medieval Ashkenaz: Men, Women, and Everyday Religious Observance (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press 2014), 138−171. 73 Based on Num 15:19–20.

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 43

until the woman has performed immersion in the ritual bath (miqveh) after menstruation, and Hadlaqat haNer, or kindling the lights on every Shabbat or festival eve before sunset.74 A similar target audience was foreseen for the Tsene-rene (lit. “Go out and see”), composed around 1590. It is a loose paraphrase in Yiddish,75 the vernacular in which they were more proficient, of the liturgical readings from the Bible during synagogue services, including the weekly portions from the Torah (Pentateuch), the additional weekly readings from the Prophets (hafṭarot),76 and the festival readings from the megillot (Five Scrolls),77 along with exegesis, fables and legends.78 Its author, R. Jacob b. Isaac Ashkenazi of Janów (Poland, 1550–1625), designated his book mainly for women, as is apparent from its title, written in the feminine form, and for the less educated members of Jewish society in the Yiddish-speaking realm. The author states in the title page of the first extant

74 The importance of these three obligations is understood from the words of M. Berakhot 2:6: “For three transgressions women die in childbirth: because they are not careful of their separation at proper periods, of separating the first cake of the dough, and of lighting the lamp [for Shabbat].” 75 Yiddish is a vernacular of Ashkenazi Jewish origin which developed in the Rhineland and Palatinate from the German local dialects since the ninth century, employing the Hebrew alphabet. From there it spread mainly to Italy, and later to Eastern Europe, while absorbing colloquial linguistic characteristics and adapting Slavic words as well as grammatic structures. See Erika Timm, “The Early History of the Yiddish Language,” in The Jews of Europe in the Middle Ages (Tenth to Fifteenth Centuries); Proceedings of the International Symposium Held at Speyer, 20−25 October 2002, ed. Christoph Cluse (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), 353−364. 76 A passage from the Prophets, called the hafṭarah (plur. hafṭarot), is allotted to and read after every parashah or portion from the Torah chanted as part of the liturgy for Shabbat mornings, Shabbat afternoons, festivals, the weekly readings on Monday and Thursday, and on some other special occasions. 77 The five biblical scrolls (Hebrew: megillot) comprise the books of Qohelet (Ecclesiastes), Shir haShirim (Song of Songs), Ruth, Eikha (Lamentations), and Esther. Each of these scrolls is assigned for reading during one of the Jewish festivals or fast days. 78 The use of the feminine form in the book’s title is a statement in itself of its target audience. The work was translated by Jean Baumgarten, Le commentaire sur la Torah: Tseenah ureenah (Jacob ben Isaac Achkenazi de Janow), trans. from Yiddish, introduction and notes by Jean Baumgarten (Paris: Verdier, 1987). See also David G. Roskies, “Yiddish Popular Literature and the Female Reader,” The Journal of Popular Culture 10, no. 4 (Spring, 1977): 852–858. On the popularity of this genre, see Dorothy Seidman Bilik, “Tsene-rene: A Yiddish Literary Success,” Jewish Book Annual 51 (1993): 96–111; Simon Neuberg, Pragmatische Aspekte der jiddischen Sprachgeschichte am Beispiel der ‘Zenerene’ (Hamburg: Buske-Verlag 1999); Shlomo Berger, “A Bestseller in Context: Referring to the ‘Tsene Rene’ in Early Modern Yiddish Books,” in Studies in the History of Culture and Science: A Tribute to Gad Freudenthal, ed. Resianne Fontaine et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 419–429.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

printed edition of 1622: “This work aims to enable men and women . . . to understand the word of God in simple language.” Jacob Ashkenazi drew mainly from traditional Jewish sources, which he put together as a composite excursus. It is highly plausible that earlier versions of its content have circulated as part of folk tradition, orally or in manuscript, even prior to its printing. Presumably, the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany was familiar with a handwritten copy of the book or its sources, or with an earlier, now lost printed edition. Additional popular themes in Yiddish books of the period were moralistic tales taken from various Jewish sources, as well as mystical works and secular tales and legends. Books such as Moses Henochs Altschul-Yerushalmi’s Brantspigel, published for the first time in Krakow in 1596, or the Mayse bukh, printed in Basel in 1602, are uniform in their content and less eclectic than the nature of the Nuremberg Miscellany.

The Nuremberg Miscellany: A Unique Compilation Although the Nuremberg Miscellany is somewhat reminiscent of some of those literary genres, it remains unique in the selection of its content and its target readership. The compiler’s choice of texts and the selection of accompanying images seem to cater to particular needs of its recipient and to deliver a very personal message. Relatively modest and thin in scale, the Miscellany is a repository of texts of a very diverse nature. It is an assemblage of religious instruction, home liturgies, musar or moralistic texts on spiritual perfection and proper virtue, midrashic homilies on the Bible,79 and issues pertaining to rites and customs—all written in Hebrew.80

79 There are four main approaches to biblical exegesis, known by the mnemonic PaRDeS (lit. “orchard” in Hebrew). The term is an acronym that was used in the Middle Ages: pshat (‫—)פ ָׁשט‬ ְ plain, simple, or the direct meaning of the text; remez (‫—)ר ֶמז‬hinted ֶ at or alluded meaning, often hidden or symbolic; drash (‫—)ד ַרׁש‬from ְ the Hebrew darash: “enquire,” “seek”—the homiletical or interpretative (midrashic) meaning; sod (‫—)סֹוד‬the mystical or esoteric meaning, as given through inspiration or revelation. The manner in which the midrash is tansposed into a visual message is the subject of a study by Joseph Gutmann, “The Haggadic Motif in Jewish Iconography,” Eretz-Israel 6 (1960) 16–22. 80 There are, to be exact, sporadic interpolations of words taken from the vernacular, such as “Hollekreisch” (‫ )הולקראייש‬or the use of the yiddishized pronounciation and spelling, such as sandeq (‫)סנדיק‬, as opposed to the Hebrew spelling and pronunciation—sandaq (‫)סנְ ָדק‬, ַ or shtadlen (‫)שתדלין‬, whereas the Hebrew transliteration would prefer shtadlan for ‫ׁש ַת ְד ָלן‬. ְ All these terms will be explained later.

The Nuremberg Miscellany: A Unique Compilation 

 45

The Nuremberg Miscellany begins with a prologue consisting of a discourse on honouring one’s parents, followed by a sermon on food and moderation (fols. 1v-2v). The liturgical part of the book begins with Psalm 23, which is part of the recital for Shabbat,81 naturally leading to matters pertaining to breaking bread: its halakhic and moralistic rules, its benedictions, and time-sensitive variations (fols. 3v-11v). A large part of the text is dedicated to Shabbat, its blessings and liturgical poetry (fols. 11v-30v), and subsequently the liturgical modifications for the Minor Festivals (fols. 30v-33r). The life cycle commences with the wedding, with a study of the rulings of the ceremony and the benedictions (fols. 33v-36v), and continues with issues of the circumcision (fols. 37r-39r). Special private and ceremonial occasions throughout the life of a Jew include the text of the kiddush with its time-sensitive differences (fols. 39v-41v), kapparot (lit. atonements or expiations) (fols. 41v-42v), and the benediction of deliverance, haGomel (43r). The final matter dealt with in the manuscript is the Hollekreisch, or the secular ceremony of baby naming (fols. 43v-44v).82 Judging by its unique composition, for which there are no known earlier models or contemporary equivalents, the intention may have been for the patron or compiler to use the Nuremberg Miscellany privately or to present it as a gift. Touching only briefly on liturgical matters relevant to the course of the Jewish year, the emphasis on the life cycle—excluding dying, death, burial, and mourning— may be an indication of some festive occasion for which the manuscript was created. Within the life cycle, however, the theme that occupies the most extensive discourse and is accompanied by a relatively broad decorative scheme is the wedding ceremony (fols. 33v-36v), accompanied by three rather large-scale illustrations. It is therefore highly plausible that the book was, in fact, a gift from parent to child for a wedding. This hypothesis finds further support in the frequent reference to inter-generational relationships in both the verbal and the visual components of the manuscript.83 The expensive parchment and other costs involved in the penmanship, such as the use of large fonts for initials, the allotment of space for illustration, the use of gold tincture, and most importantly—leaving some areas uninscribed and unadorned on occasion, are all indicative of the patronage of an affluent person.

81 The circumstances for the recital of this Psalm on Shabbat vary from one community to the other. In some, it is part of the home liturgy on Friday evening, while in others it is part of the “Third Meal” on Shabbat afternoon. It is further recited on memorial and funerary occasions. 82 Detailed explanations on the thematic sections of the book are found in the relevant chapters below. 83 The intention of the Nuremberg Miscellany and its recipient are dealt with in detail in the Conclusion.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Discussing early Ashkenazi maḥzorim, Eva Frojmovic formulates this very idea in words that could apply, with minor omissions, to the Nuremberg Miscellany as well, These books did more than transmit a text. They carried “added value” and cultural capital by being set out on . . . expensive parchment, with generous margins . . . Moreover, just as important, they were decorated with ambitious pen drawings or coloured and gilded illuminations.84

The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was clearly an amateur in terms of the correct usage of conventions such as proportions, space and perspective, depth, and volume. His paintings are crudely stylised coloured pen-drawings, rendered directly on the parchment ground with hardly any visual backdrop or indication of the setting of the scene. The compositions are simple, lacking sophistication of spatial arrangement or foreshortening, taking place in one front plane, and usually consisting only of the necessary elements or protagonists to render the image comprehensible. Yet despite his minimalistic approach, the artist skilfully charged each of his illustrations with layers of erudition and literacy, interwoven into the naïvely executed images with great sophistication and often also a sense of humor. Uncovering these layers reveals a true savant of Jewish texts and lore. Untrained as he may have been with the paintbrush, the artist was nonetheless familiar with current artistic trends, which he knew as a matter of course. In the words of the great art-historian Bernard Berenson, the Jews, and for that matter also the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, “could not escape the strong impress of the surrounding milieu.” They therefore “accepted willingly a part of the Christian culture,”85 whether consciously or by cultural osmosis. The process of awareness, appropriation, and adaptation was met with art forms immanent to their Jewish tradition, often creating a new visual language altogether. As Marc Michael Epstein maintains, “once appropriated by Jews, it could not possibly have borne the same symbolic valences it did in contemporary Christian art.”86 Epstein’s observation, specifically pertaining to animal imagery in Hebrew manuscripts, can be easily generalised to the broader scope of Jewish iconography, at least as far as medieval and Early Modern Ashkenazi manuscripts are concerned.

84 Frojmovic, “Early Ashkenazic Prayer Books,” 46. 85 Bernard Berenson, Aesthetics and History in the Visual Arts (New York: Pantheon: 1948), 180. 86 Marc Michael Epstein, Dreams of Subversion in Medieval Jewish Art and Literature (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997), 11.

Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 47

Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany The history of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the circumstances of its production, the intention of its patron and scribe, and of the original owner or recipient of the tome, are obscure. The manuscript’s colophon provides only limited information. Situated below the text on fol. 44r, the scribe, or rather compiler, signed his name: Eli'ezer b. Mordechai the Martyr, and the date, namely Monday, 26 Kislev 5350 according to the Hebrew calendar, corresponding to December 3, 1589.87 This is the only known manuscript signed by this person (see Figure 12). The compiler was clearly a fairly well versed master of scribal art as indicated in the preparation of the parchment sheets before applying the text onto them, including the ruling and pricking that follow earlier traditions of manuscript production.88 Planning and determining the mise-en-page, assigning spaces for primary and secondary texts,89 as well as for decorations and illustrations, are the hallmark of an experienced scribe. It is likely that this was the work of a sofer stam, a professional scribe specialised in the production of Torah scrolls, tefillin, mezuzot, and other manuscripts created for special occasions.90 Further evidence supporting the hypothesis that the Nuremberg Miscellany was the work of a sofer stam is the prevalence of traces of erasure of errors and subsequent re-inscribing in techniques that are typical of the art of professional scribes.91 Moreover, the concluding line of the manuscript, immediately preceding the colophon, includes a terminating formula that is commonly employed by professional scribes. Some of its letters are decorated with tiny serifs on the horizontal bar in a manner typical of Torah scrolls. While we are unable to substantiate the original ownership of the manuscript, there are some clues to be found in the bifolio appended to the end of the

87 The colophon is rendered and discussed in the Conclusion. 88 Assuming he did not acquire his writing materials from the parchmenter ready to be inscribed. 89 The term “secondary text” is applied here more to texts that the scribe treated as such, using smaller-scale lettering, than according to literary-critical parameters that might apply to the distinction between mega text and paratext. Still, the interaction between the primary text and the secondary text in the Nuremberg Miscellany is sometimes similar to that distinction. 90 As explained above, bills of marriage and divorce were also handwritten until the modern era, when printed wedding contracts often took over, leaving room only for the varying details of name and date to be filled in by hand. 91 Scribes in the West regularly used pumice to score out large parts of erroneously inscribed texts, or a penknife for smaller-scale corrections. Erasure and correction of scripture by the original scribe are apparent, for example, on fols. 5r, 7v-8r, and 10v. Severe scraping of the text caused serious thinning of the parchment and was possibly responsible for some tears in the leaves. Such examples are found on fols. 3r, 21v, 36r, and 43r.

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 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

manuscript. The inscriptions on fol. 45r are clearly from various periods, judging from their different styles. The additional quire offered a place in which the owner (and subsequent heirs) could record various family notations, mainly births and deaths, as was customary in earlier Hebrew manuscripts.92 The earliest inscription is reminiscent of the style of script that was common in late sixteenth–early seventeenth century Ashkenaz, suggesting that the bifolio was added at about the same time as the creation of the manuscript itself.93 It is a memorial (yizkor) inscription for R. Moses b. Abraham son of Simeon Günzburg, who lived in Pfersee and died in 1591 (See Figure 13).94 The locality of Pfersee nowadays lies within the western part of the city of Augsburg in Swabia, Southern Germany.95 The original proprietor of the Nuremberg Miscellany or his immediate kin may well have noted this down. 92 Compare some ownership and birth notations that were added at the end of the Moskowitz Maḥzor, Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS. Heb. 40 1384, fols. 375v-376v, translated from the original Hebrew in Shlomo Zucker, The Moskowitz Mahzor of Joel Ben Simeon. AshkenaziItalian Scribe and Illuminator of Hebrew Manuscripts, MS. Heb. 40 1384 (Jerusalem: The Jewish National and University Library, 2005), XVII. 93 I owe the substantiation of this observation to Prof. Emile G. L. Schrijver. 94 The text reads: [‫ שמעון זצ'ל ]=זכר צדיק לברכה‬/ ‫יזכור אלהי']ם[ נשמת האלוף הקצין ר' משה אברהם בן הקצין רבי‬ ‫ נשמתו צרורה‬/ ‫ בעבור שעסק בצרכי ציבור גם נתן עבורו לצדקה בשכר זה תהא‬/ ‫גינצבורג עם נשמת אברהם יצחק ויעקב‬ .‫ב˝ה ]=בצרור החיים[ ע˝ש ]=עם שאר[ צדיקים בגן עדן אמן‬. There is no record of R. Moses b. Abraham Günzburg’s tombstone in Pfersee according to Yehuda Shenef, Alphabetical Burial Register. Jewish Cemetery Kriegshaber (Pfersee) in Augsburg, 2011, http://www.alemannia-judaica.de/images/ Images%20302/CEM-KRI-BURIAL-REGISTER-ALPHABETICAL.pdf (accessed April 29, 2020). He may have been buried elsewhere. 95 Until the early nineteenth century, Jews could neither live nor be buried within the Augsburg city limits. They settled in various villages and townships in the vicinity. For further information on Swabian Jewry, see mainly Helmut Veitshans, Die Judensiedlungen der schwäbischen Reichsstädte und der württembergischen Landstädte im Mittelalter (Arbeiten zum historischen Atlas von Südwestdeutschland, herausgegeben von der Kommission für geschichtliche Landeskunde in Baden-Württemberg, Heft 5–6) (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1970). See also Doris Pfister, “Quellen zur Geschichte der Juden in Schwaben,” Geschichte und Kultur der Juden in Schwaben. Wissenschaftliche Tagung der Heimatpflege des Bezirks Schwaben in Zusammenarbeit mit der Schwabenakademie Irsee am 14./15. Oktober 1989 in Irsee (Irseer Schriften. Herausgegeben von Rainer Jehl und Roswitha Terlinden, Schwabenakademie Irsee, 2), ed. Peter Fassl (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1994), 9–18. See also Wolfgang Wüst, “Juden im Augsburger Hoch- und Domstift. Eine Minderheit im Spannungsfeld zwischen ökonomischem Fortschritt, grenzüberschreitendem Handel, konfessionskonformer Staatlichkeit und bischöflischer Mandatswillkür,” in ibid., 189–208; as well as Stefan Rohrbacher, “Medinat Schwaben. Jüdisches Leben in einer süddeutschen Landschaft in der Frühneuzeit,” in Alten reiches Judengemeinden in Schwaben im Kontext des Alten Reiches (Colloquia Augustana, Bd. 2), ed. Rolf Kießling (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1995), 87–93. See also Karl Heinz Burmeister, “Beziehungen von Juden und jüdischen Gemeinden in Schwaben und Vorarlberg vom 16. bis 19. Jahrhundert,” Geschichte und Kultur der Juden in Schwa-

Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 49

Figure 13: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 45r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

A later, undated ex libris inscription identifying a certain Ephraim b. Ṭevele Ulmann of Pfersee as one of the owners of the Nuremberg Miscellany may lend credibility to this hypothesis.96 Ephraim Ulmo, as transliterated from his tombstone in Pfersee, died in 1778,97 dating the inscription to the eighteenth century (See Figure 14). If the identification is correct, it indicates that the manuscript

ben. II. Wissenschaftliche Tagung der Heimatpflege des Bezirks Schwaben in Zusammenarbeit mit der Schwabenakademie Irsee am 14./15. Oktober 1989 in Irsee. (Irseer Schriften. Herausgegeben v. Rainer Jehl und Roswitha Terlinden, Schwabenakademie Irsee 5), ed. Peter Fassl (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke 2000), 217–228; as well as, Jacob Katz, Tradition and Crisis. Jewish Society at the End of the Middle Ages (New York: Schocken, 1971), 29. 96 The inscription reads: (!) ‫ פרנס ומנהיג שתדלין‬/ ‫זאת הספר שייך להאלוף והקצין המפורסם התורני הראש והנדיב‬ ‫ בן ה˝ה ]=האדון הנכבד[ הזקן הישיש‬/ ‫הקהילה כ˝ה ]=כבוד הרב[ אפרים יצ˝ו ]=ישמרהו צורו וינצרהו[ מפפערשין‬ ‫כ˝ה טעבלי אולמאן שליטא‬. A chapter of the history of the Jews of Pfersee is delineated in the Memorbuch of the community by Joseph Perles, “Das Memorbuch der Gemeinde Pfersee,” Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 11 (1873) (N.F. 5): 508–515, 572 (Nachtrag). The word ‫ שתדלין‬should be read as a derivative of the Hebrew word ‫( ְׁש ַת ְד ָלן‬shtadlan) – a common term for an “intercessor” pleading with the ruler on behalf of the Jewish community. See Max Weinreich, History of the Yiddish Lannguage, edited by Paul Glasser, translated by Shlomo Noble, with the assistance of Joshua A. Fishman (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008), vol. 2: A402, 7.14. On the role of the shtadlan in the Jewish and local society, see Rebekka Voss, “‘Habe die Mission treu erfüllt und begehre meinen Lohn darum.’ Amt, Funktion und Titel des Schtadlan und ihre Wahrnehmung in der Frühneuzeit”, in Selbstzeugnisse und Ego-Dokumente frühneuzeitlicher Juden in Aschkenas. Beispiele, Methoden und Konzepte, ed. Birgit E. Klein and Rotraud Ries (Berlin: Metropol, 2011) 139−166. Ephraim Ulman’s status as leader in the Jewish community of Pfersee transpires from his being the first signatory of a legal document from 1780, mentioned later in the Conclusion, 437. For another example of the spelling ‫ שתדלין‬in a contemporary epitaph of Josef Israel Simeon b. Elijahu Katz (d. 24.11.1739) from the cemetery in Hamburg-Altona, Königstraße, I am indebted to Dr. Andreas Lehnertz. See http://www.steinheim-institut.de/cgi-bin/epidat?id=hha-2813 (accessed April 29, 2020). 97 According to Shenef, Alphabetical Burial Register, his tombstone is marked 27–03. One should note, however, that private names were repeated along generations among the Jews of Ashkenaz, including the Ulma(n)-Günzburg family, so that any identification that is not anchored in a date remains hypothetical.

50 

 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

remained in the possession of the Ulma-Günzburg (or Ulmo/Ulman) family for several generations.98 The inscription also attests to the owner’s high religious and social standing in the Jewish community of Pfersee (rendered here in Hebrew as ‫–פפערשין‬Pfersin).99 In medieval documents, Pfersee is recorded, among other versions, as “Pfersen,” and in some sources from the fifteenth and sixteenth century as “Pferschen,” hence the Hebrew transliteration to “Pfershin.”100 From 1560 until 1875, there was a thriving Jewish community in Pfersee with a number of renowned rabbis and scholars, mainly from the Ulma (Günzburg) family.

Figure 14: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 45r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

98 The Ulma(n)-Günzburg family is the subject of many studies. See, for example, Hillel Noah Maggid, Toldot Mishpeḥot Ginzburg (St Petersburg: L. Rabinowitz & Sh. Sokolowski, 1899) (Hebrew); Bernhard Friedberg, Zur Genealogie der Familie Günzburg (Frankfurt am Main: J. Kauffmann, 1903) (Offprint from Zeitschrift für hebräische Bibliographie, 6 (1903): 187–191, including the transcription of a text from 1620 by Eliaqim b. Gedaliah Getschlik Rothenburg, nowadays in Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, annotated by the author). 99 Alternative names used in the written sources from the Early Modern Period are “Pherse,” “Pferse(n),” “Pfersche(n),” “Pferze(n),” or “Pfersheim.” Other contemporary documents refer to the town by the name “Phersheim,” “Pfertzen,” or “Pferschen.” Jews are first mentioned in Pfersee in 1569, when Margrave Bartholomäus Sailer, the local ruler, agreed to allow a few families, mostly from Günzburg, to settle there. 100 Beneath the yizkor inscription, a certain scribe, using a lighter-coloured ink than that of the main body of the manuscript, added some verses from Num 1:1, Deut 1:1, and Deut 33:1, all of which make reference to Moses. The lettering of these inscriptions is of a similar style to the text added at the bottom of fol. 44r, the second-to last leaf of the original last quire. While the first verse on fol. 44r mentions Jacob, the one following it mentions Moses as well. It is highly plausible that the same hand wrote both texts—on fol. 44r and on fol. 45r. Furthermore, both inscriptions present a preferred reference to Moses, suggesting that a man named Moses himself, or a son, a father, or another relative of a certain person by that name may have inscribed them. The choice of verses on fol. 45r, however, may indicate a tribute to a late parent.

Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 51

Following the expulsion of the Jews from Augsburg in 1440, they settled in nearby Kriegshaber, Steppach, and Pfersee for commercial reasons. In the early Middle Ages, the township of Pfersee was governed by the bishops and patrician families of Augsburg. When Augsburg became a free city in 1276, Pfersee came under the rule of the Margraves of Burgau. For nearly half a millenium, from around 1300 to 1800, Burgau, in Bavarian Swabia, was under the Austrian rule of the Habsburg monarchy.101 In the period relevant to our discussion, Pfersee and the entire region of Burgau were under the protection of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria. In 1911, Pfersee was incorporated into Augsburg. There is no available information on the whereabouts of the manuscript between the late eighteenth century and the mid-nineteenth century, when the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg first recorded its existence. The exact details of its proprietorship by the museum is, however, somewhat obscure. The inventory volume of the museum for the years 1857 and 1858 has been missing for decades and there is no other record of it in any of the other acquisition books. The manuscript was accessioned under unknown circumstances probably between March 30, 1857 and January 7, 1859—the last day of registry in the missing volume of 1857 and the first day of the volume of 1859, respectively. The fact that no reference to the manuscript is found in any of the reports published in the Anzeiger für Kunde der Deutschen Vorzeit, in which donations to the museum have been listed, suggests that it was a procurement, namely that it was purchased by the museum, probably sometime in 1857–1859.102 No further information exists regarding the provenance of the Nuremberg Miscellany. The main scientific description of the Nuremberg Miscellany was published in 1965 by Dr. Ernst Róth, state rabbi of Hesse.103 This registry of the manuscript

101 Margraves are German nobleman ranking above a count (equivalent to the English marquis). Originally, counts were appointed to govern frontier provinces and by the twelfth century became princes of the Holy Roman Empire. 102 The former director of the library of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg, Dr. Eberhard Slenczka, provided this information. I am indebted to Dr. Slenczka for his research endeavours to retrieve as much information about the accession and provenance of the manuscript as possible. 103 Ernst Róth, in Hans Striedl and Ernst Róth (in collaboration with Lothar Tetzner), Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland, Bd. VI, 2: Hebräische Handschriften, ed. Wolfgang Voigt (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1965), no. 502, 315–316. Similar information is found in Mardoqueo W. Bernstein, Brands Plucked out of the Fire (Tizones Sacrados de la Hoguera [Nisht derbrente Shaiten]) (Buenos Aires: Instituto Científico Judío – IWO, 1965), 121 (Yiddish), with the identification of the manuscript as a “prayer book,” as in the description by Nehemya Allony and D. Sh. Loewinger in Reshimat Tatslume Kitvei haYad ha’Ivriyim baMakhon (List of Photocopies in the Institute) (Jerusalem: [s.n.], 5717/1957), no. 674 (Hebrew). A more detailed descrip-

52 

 Chapter 2 Historical and Art-Historical Background of the Nuremberg Miscellany

in the collection of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum is part of a multi-volume catalogue series of Hebrew manuscripts in German libraries. The entry describing the Miscellany is typically brief and consists mainly of general bibliographic notations. Róth referred to the manuscript as a Gebetbuch (prayer book), although he did mention the existence of descriptions of minhagim and ethical discourses in the book as well.104 The manuscript featured in several exhibitions on Jewish life, mainly in those that were dedicated to the history of the Jews in Germany. Its first public display was in 1960–1961 as part of the exhibition “Synagoga: Kultgeräte und Kunstwerke von der Zeit der Patriarchen bis zur Gegenwart” in the Städtische Kunsthalle, Recklinghausen. The catalogue describes the manuscript as decorated with “folk art” style illustrations.105 The bifolio 43v-44r showing the Hollekreisch scene appears there in black and white. Later in 1961, the manuscript was shown at the “Synagoga: jüdische Altertümer, Handschriften und Kultgeräte” exhibition at the Historisches Museum in Frankfurt am Main.106 The catalogue and entries remained essentially unaltered, including the description of the manuscript and the reproduction of the scene of the Hollekreisch. The Nuremberg Miscellany featured again in the great exhibition “Monumenta Judaica” that marked 2,000 years of Jewish life on the banks of the Rhine, held in Cologne in 1963–1964. The catalogue entry is identical to the Recklinghausen exhibition, with the exception of the reproduction used, which in this case was that of the wedding scene.107 Between March 7 and 28, 1982, the Nuremberg Miscellany was exhibited at the University Library of Erlangen. Its descriptive catalogue includes a brief entry

tion of some of the issues and illustrations in the manuscript is found in Ernst Róth, “On the Hollekreisch,” Yeda' 'Am, Journal of the Israel Folklore Society 7, no. 25 (5722/1961): 66–69 (Hebrew). 104 Striedl and Róth, Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften, 315. 105 To quote: “. . . mit zahlreichen farbigen Illustrationen, die in einem köstlichen volkstümlichen Stil religiöse Handlungen darstellen.” See Anneliese Schröder, ed., Synagoga: Kultgeräte und Kunstwerke von der Zeit der Patriarchen bis zur Gegenwart (Ausstellung in der Städtische Kunsthalle Recklinghausen, 3. November 1960–15. Januar 1961) (Recklinghausen: Bauer, 1961), Abt. B, No. B46. In the catalogue, however, the dating of the manuscript is 1590 instead of 1589. 106 Synagoga: jüdische Altertümer, Handschriften und Kultgeräte (Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main 17. Mai–16. Juli 1961) (Frankfurt am Main: Ner-Tamid, 1961), no. 144 and fig. 59. 107 Konrad Schilling, ed., Monumenta Judaica: 2000 Jahre Geschichte und Kultur der Juden am Rhein (Eine Ausstellung im Kölnischen Stadtmuseum, 15. Oktober 1963–15. März 1964) (Cologne: Stadt Köln, 1964), no. D44 and fig. 32.

Provenance and History of the Nuremberg Miscellany 

 53

by Bernward Deneke, who, at the time, served as curator of ethnography (including Judaica) of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum.108 The latest public display of the manuscript to date was in the 1988 exhibition, “Siehe, der Stein schreit aus der Mauer”109 at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. The catalogue refers to it again as a Gebetbuch (prayer book). Such a description, however, does not do justice to the eclectic broad content of the manuscript.110 Two brief inscriptions appear on the leaves of the added quire at the end of the manuscript. The one, on fol. 45v, appears to be a mathematical calculation. The minuend reads 576, from which the subtrahend 350 is subtracted, and below the line is the difference, 226. This coded message remains unsolved. Equally enigmatic is the inscription on fol. 46v, comprising three words, which read ‫שלמה‬ ‫הקטן‬, namely Solomon the lesser or younger, and an additional unclear word. As the last word is illegible, this presumably ownership inscription does not add to our reconstruction of the provenance of the Nuremberg Miscellany.

108 Bernward Deneke, Zur Ausstellung Jüdische Kult- und Brauchtumsgeräte, Universitätsbibliothek Erlangen, March 7–28, 1982, [n.p], [n.d.] (1982), 8. I am indebted to Dr. Johannes Pommeranz, director of the library at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg, for this information. See also Jens Hoppe, Jüdische Geschichte und Kultur in Museen. Zur nichtjüdischen Museologie des jüdischen in Deutschland (Münster: Waxmann, 2002), 89. Dr. Deneke also took part in the above-mentioned Synagoga exhibition at the Historisches Museum in Frankfurt, 1961. See further idem. “Zur Geschichte der Sammlung jüdischer Altertümer im Germanischen Nationalmuseum.” Anzeiger des Germanischen Nationalmuseums (1981): 137–148. 109 After Habakkuk 2:11. 110 Deneke, Siehe, der Stein, No. 2/12, 35, and colour reproduction of the scene of the marriage under the canopy (fol. 34v) on 160.

Chapter 3  The Decorative Scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany The Nuremberg Miscellany consists of forty-four folios (or eighty-eight pages) and an appended unillustrated bifolio. Only fifty-five pages include graphic embellishments,1 of which one is a full-page illustration (fol. 3r) and four of its pages, at the beginning of the manuscript, contain decorations that span the entire page. The iconographic scheme includes twenty-seven text illustrations and fifty-eight decorated initial letters or words. Beside decorations and non-figurative embellishments, the iconography in the Nuremberg Miscellany falls into two main thematic categories of text illustrations: biblical imagery on the one hand, and genre scenes of daily life—both sacred and familial—on the other hand. The rich variety of genre scenes includes religious ceremonies, life cycle events, and other rituals practised in the Jewish home. Within the two aforementioned iconographic categories, the illustrated themes based on the biblical narrative are significantly fewer than the genre scenes. A possible third category of illustrations consists of miniature allusions to the text, pictorial linguistic puns, or other embellishments, which often relate to the text only remotely. It is not clear precisely how the compiler-scribe and the artist—if not the same person—planned the iconographic scheme of the manuscript, and what guided the specific mise-en-page in every leaf of the book. Nor is the choice of subject matter that embellishes the text obvious in every case. It seems, however, that the artist made no apparent distinction in placement or size between biblical themes and genre scenes. He did not consistently favour the text-space or the margins for any type of illustration. Rather, he occupied vacant, uninscribed parts of the parchment to incorporate his illustrations and embellishments whenever he felt the need to do so.2

1 Some pages include only demarcations of leaders of the text, executed in the same ink as the text, or with some colouring added onto them. In other instances, a hand pointing to a certain passage in the text is illustrated in ink without further colouration. These markings serve as a highlighting devices with no iconographic significance, somewhat like rubrications in Christian medieval manuscripts. 2 Each individual image will be described and discussed sequentially, following its respective order in the Miscellany. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-004

Genre Scenes Portraying Minhag 

 55

Biblical Scenes The Nuremberg Miscellany contains illustrations of only three biblical stories. Their iconography demonstrates not only a visual interpretation of the textual narrative but also vast knowledge of multiple layers of Jewish exegesis and scholarship. The scenes portray: – Abraham’s hospitality (fol. 3r) – Judith’s triumph over Holofernes (fol. 10v) – Isaac blessing Jacob and Esau the hunter (fol. 41r) While the illustration of the deuterocanonical story of Judith and Holofernes pertains to the text describing the holiday of Ḥanukkah or the Festival of Lights, the relationship between the other two scenes and the texts they illustrate is not as inherent. The choice of the space allotted to these biblical scenes in the layout of the pages varies from one image to another. Abraham’s hospitality occupies a full page, albeit vertically, perpendicular to the page setting and the text-space, and disrupting the normal directionality of the manuscript. This is the only full-page illustration in the Miscellany. Isaac blessing Jacob and a related scene showing Esau as a hunter occupy the bottom half of a page in two panels set one above the other, whereas Judith’s triumph is a bas-de-page, occupying the bottom and right margins of the page.

Genre Scenes Portraying Minhag Eleven genre scenes accompany the text as visual illustrations of the Jewish year and life cycle customs. These text illustrations portray Jewish life in late sixteenth-century Southern Germany. They serve as a mirror of a community that observed ancient Jewish rites, halakhah and minhag, while at the same time maintained strong links to the surrounding non-Jewish culture. The illustrations, always located in the margins, include:

The Jewish Year – – – – – –

Kiddush (fol. 9v) Kiddush Levanah—Sanctification of the New Moon (fol. 10r) Handing over the key before Shabbat (fol. 11v) Havdalah (fol. 29r) Ḥanukkah—the Feast of Lights (fol. 31v) Kapparot (fol. 42v)

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Life Cycle Themes – – – – –

Entourage of the bridal couple (fols. 33v-34r) Ḥuppah: the Bridal canopy (fol. 34v) Wedding dance (fol. 35v) Circumcision (fol. 36v) Hollekreisch (fols. 43v-44r)

In this list of illustrated customs, two images stand out in terms of the space they occupy: the bridal entourage scene and the Hollekreisch scene. The portrayal of the bridal entourage is a conglomerate composition showing two seemingly separate images of parties riding carriages. Seen together, the two parties are clearly approaching each other towards an eventual meeting point. Thus, they complement one another and constitute a unified iconographic entity arranged over a spread of two pages (fols. 33v-34r) at their bottom margins. The Hollekreisch scene is another instance of an illustration spanning over a two-page opening (fols. 43v-44r). In this case, too, the connection between the images is not as intuitive. It emerges only through their iconographic reading and linking them to the text.

Arches and Opening Pages: Moralistic Images The Nuremberg Miscellany begins with a full-page composition that serves as an opening page for the entire book. It is followed by a series of pages designed like an arch, with the text encapsulated within it. There are altogether four pages with the same structure, three of them consecutive, following the initial page of the book (fols. 1v-2v). In addition to the similar composition, the common denominator of the first three opening pages is that they feature moralistic images, mostly mere iconographic clues or hints. The texts enclosed in the arches are not easily perceptive, but once interpreted, it becomes clear how the imagery highlights the moralistic message, carrying it over from the front page to the rest of the manuscript. The moralistic images are: – Four archetypal animals (fol. 1r) – Arches standing on elephant-shaped pedestals (fol. 1v) – A coronet beneath the arch (fol. 2r) – Anthropomorphic luminaries (fol. 2v)

Decorated Initial Letters and Words 

 57

Another arch, of a different form, appears on fol. 3v, marking the beginning of the liturgical section of the manuscript, and serving as a gateway into the main part of the book.

Marginalia and Miniature Images Another component of the decorative scheme in the Nuremberg Miscellany comprises various images of single objects, flora, and fauna dispersed between the lines or occupying the margins. Some have a thematic relationship to the adjacent text and may serve as miniature text illustrations. Others seem to be mere aesthetic decorations. The textually-related marginalia include: – Vines and grapes for kiddush (fol. 4v) – Hourglass (fol. 6v) – Squirrel (fol. 6v) – Wine goblet for kiddush (fol. 9v) – Swan’s head (fol. 14v) – Vine growing grapes and other fruit (fol. 29v) – Wine goblet for kiddush (fol. 33v) – Wine goblet for the kiddush of the New Year (fol. 39v)

Decorated Initial Letters and Words Oversized ornamental initial letters or words, standing out against the rest of the text, are prevalent in both Jewish and non-Jewish manuscripts. Often, but not always, they have a special role such as marking a change of function (e.g., beginning a liturgy) or the beginnings of chapters. They are sometimes richly decorated with geometric, vegetal, anthropomorphic, zoomorphic, and other elements. It is important to note here the difference between the manner in which Hebrew and Latin scribes treated these special, large-scale incipits. Hebrew scribes (or artists) usually highlighted complete initial words as one decorative unit, unlike the creators of Latin manuscripts, who typically rendered initial letters in majuscule, and sometimes further elaborated them by an accompanying illustration, either as a historiated letter or incorporated in a decorative panel. The Nuremberg Miscellany mostly features initial words. The scribe was probably responsible for the large initial words or letters executed in ink with a quill. Words and letters exceeding the size of the main text, in Ashkenazi square script

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or Gothic-style letters, also fall into this category.3 The scribe may have also traced the painted monumental letters in ink, perhaps leaving the task of applying paint into the outlines for the artist (if they were not one and the same) as another mode of collaboration between the pen and the paintbrush. A noteworthy phenomenon in the initial words and letters is the application of powdered gold tincture. The two instances in which the artist used this special tint are on fol. 4v, in the initial word ‫( נְ ָב ֵרְך‬lit. “let us bless”) (see Figure 10) and in the initial letter ‫ ב‬in the word ‫( ָּברּוְך‬lit. “blessed [be])” on fol. 19v (see Figure 15).4

Figure 15: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 19v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Multicoloured lettering in the manuscript displays many styles, all of which follow similar norms and forms utilised by earlier scribes and illuminators in medieval Hebrew books. Among those are composite words with or without inhabited 3 The two types of larger letters were employed, for example, on fol. 9v. The Gothic letters occur also in section headings, such as on fol. 30v at the beginning of the text for Ḥanukkah, on fol. 33v as a heading for the ordinances of marriage, on fol. 39v for the beginning of the kiddush for Rosh haShanah, and in other places. 4 For more on the significance of the selection of gold for these particular instances, see the Conclusion.

Decorated Initial Letters and Words 

 59

decoration within the body of their letters,5 “folded ribbon” letters,6 and hybrid initial words with several styles within the same word.7 Such elaborations often feature an iconography linked to the content, such as zoomorphic elements or objects within the letter. This creates a unique relationship between text and image, in which the illustration comprising part of the initial word or letter is a visual reflection of the particular text as a whole.8 Miniature abbreviated embellishments typically adorn ascenders and descenders of some Hebrew letters, or—less frequently—their horizontal bars. Some of those include iconographic links to the text, while others seem to be purely decorative.9 The latter include, for example, the humanoid head that forms the left descender of the letter ‫מ‬, and other anthropomorphic and zoocephalic motifs in the initial word ‫ ִמזְ מֹור‬on fol. 3v (see Figure 16), the flower decorating the letter ‫ א‬of the initial word ‫ ַא ִּדיר‬on fol. 24r, and the two hybrids entwined on the letter ‫ ב‬of the large initial on fol. 39v.

Figure 16: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Some images worked into initial words or letters seem, at first sight, not to have any iconographic significance. A closer examination, however, often reveals an intentional, albeit sometimes obscure, iconographic hint to the text. Those images include: – Pelican (fol. 5v) – Spectacles, a sword and a fish (fol. 5r) – Quadruped exposing its cloven hoof (fol. 10v) – Horse (fol. 11v) – Swan (fol. 14v) 5 For example, on fols. 1v, 6v, 21r, or 43r. 6 As on fols. 3v, 14v, 24r, or 33v. 7 Fols. 25r and 29r offer two such examples. 8 See, for example, the spectacles, sword, and fish on fol. 5r, the pelican and its young on fol. 5v, or the fish on fol. 26v. 9 In all probability, the view expressed by L. J. A. Loewenthal, quoting St. Bernard’s admonition of monstrous images as senseless, useless, and disgusting, is hardly applicable in this case, and cannot be related at all to the work of Jewish manuscript illuminators. See his study, “Amulets in Medieval Sculpture: I. General Outline,” Folklore 89, no. 1 (1978): 3–12. Reference to St. Bernard is on p. 3.

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 Chapter 3 The Decorative Scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany

Hand (fol. 17v) Fish (fol. 26v) Beast with an open mouth (fol. 31v)

Separators Some Jewish liturgical texts undergo some minor changes by substituting or adding certain words to the ordinary prayers, thereby adapting them for special occasions such as Shabbat or particular festivals. The scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany typically marked the temporal changes in semi-cursive script to distinguish the insertions from the main text, written in formal square script. In other cases, he simply employed a smaller font for the secondary text. Other graphic devices that are intended to distinguish between the texts include, most frequently, a separator in the shape of a ribbon or strap, sometimes entwined, knotted, or otherwise decorated.10 Additional separators are more imaginative, such as a hand holding a halberd (fol. 8v) (see Figure 17) and two hands holding a pick fork (fol. 10v).

Figure 17: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 8v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 10 As, for example, on fols. 4r, 39r, and 39v.

Ink Drawings as Indicators 

 61

In one case (fol. 4v), the secondary text looks like an afterthought, located alongside and underneath the initial word of the Grace After Meals and referring to gluttony. In order to separate it from the main text, the artist enclosed the secondary text within a framed tabula ansata—a rectangle with a deltoid device atop, allowing the longest line to protrude from the frame to the left (see Figure 18).

Figure 18: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Ink Drawings as Indicators Many pages of the Nuremberg Miscellany feature indicators in the form of a hand to highlight a specific passage in the text. These additions seem to be at least close-to contemporaneous with the production of the manuscript. It is impossible to tell with certainty, however, whether they are the work of the scribe or the artist.11 The artist occasionally placed other forms of ink markings emanating 11 These markings appear on fols. 4r, 4v, 5r, 29v, 30r, four times on fols. 33r, 33v, twice on fols. 34r, 34v, 38v, and twice on fol. 39r. On the role of the hand as marking-pointer, see Sinai Turan, “On the History of the ‘Pointing Finger’ in Hebrew Booklore and in the Customs of Torah-

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 Chapter 3 The Decorative Scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany

from enhanced letters at the beginning of each line of a specific text. He typically did so to mark the initial letters of stanzas in a piyyuṭ that form an acrostic, usully revealing the name of its author (see Figure 19).12

Figure 19: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 13v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The iconographic interpretation of each type of illustrations naturally calls for different tools. Biblical imagery, for example, represents many layers of Jewish religious literature and centuries of Jewish lore. Genre scenes, on the other hand, represent practical customs and feature furnishings, utensils, costumes, etc. Beyond their value as illustrations of custom and ritual, they also vividly reflect the contemporary material culture among affluent Jews in Southern Germany.13

Reading”, in Kenishta: Studies of the Synagogue World 3, Dov Rappel – in Memoriam (Bar-Ilan University Press, Ramat-Gan, 2007), 317−325 (Hebrew). 12 Such examples are found, among other places, on fol. 12, with the indicators denoting the name of the poet—‫( אברהם‬Avraham), on fols. 13r-13v, spelling the words ‫יהונתן חזק‬, or in a painted vegetal motif set at the beginnings of the stanzas of ‫ּברּוְך ֶאל ֶע ְליֹון‬, ָ spelling the poet’s acrosticated name, ‫ ברוך חזק‬on fols. 19v-20v. 13  The validity of objects as historical sources has recently been probed by Ruth-Elisabeth Mohrmann, “Können Dinge sprechen?” Rheinisch-westfälische Zeitschrift für Volkskunde 56 (2011):

Ink Drawings as Indicators 

 63

It is important, as a rule, to exercise caution when using these depictions as historical sources, taking into account possible external influences. Trained on medieval practices, the artist may have followed earlier models or conventions. Consequently, treating depictions of customs as a reflection of the time of the manuscript might result in anachronistic or other erroneous conclusions. Or, as Patricia Basing put it in her book on Trades and Crafts in Medieval Manuscripts, “When considering the illustrations in a manuscript as historical evidence, it is important to assess the information against knowledge gained from other sources.”14 The artist of Nuremberg Miscellany does not seem to have directly borrowed from earlier models, yet one should be cautious in the interpretation of its imagery. The information derived from each image must be corroborated with other visual and textual sources—religious and secular, and both Jewish and Christian. All these ought to be carefully analysed, juxtaposed, and weighed one against the other in order to reconstruct the Sitz im Leben of daily life portrayed in the manuscript.

9–25. See also Paul Willehad Eckert, “Zum Wert der bildlichen Darstellung als Geschichtsquelle. Überlegungen zur Ikonographie der Juden im Mittelalter.” in Juden in Deutschland. Zur Geschichte einer Hoffnung. Historische Längsschnitte und Einzelstudien (Veröffentlichungen aus dem Institut Kirche und Judentum, 11), ed. Peter von der Osten-Sacken, 115–125 (Berlin: Selbstverlag Institut Kirche und Judentum, 1980). 14  Basing, Trades and Crafts, 15.

Chapter 4 The Nuremberg Miscellany as a Cultural-Historical Document A Methodological Statement The iconographic analysis of the Nuremberg Miscellany raises some preliminary methodological considerations. Artists’ colophons are rare in medieval and Early Modern manuscripts, much more so than those of copyists. In the Miscellany, the scribe is assuming responsibility for the scribal art alone, yet there is reason to advocate that the book was not only conceived but also executed by one and the same person, text and decorations alike, as will be argued later.1 This study of the Nuremberg Miscellany is based on the understanding that text and image are, in essence, mutually dependent, or complementary, at least in this particular manuscript. The examination of the text and the embellishments in the book shows that neither element is regarded as superior —or inferior —to the other. The verbal and visual components of the book will therefore be regarded as two facets of one entity, meant to convey the same idea to its recipient. Kathryn Starkey uses the same perspective with reference to the much earlier Willehalm by Wolfram von Eschenbach (begun ca.1210–1212),2 [. . .] rather than regard text and images in illustrated manuscripts as separate media aimed at two different types of audiences, it is essential to examine the ways in which they intersect and work together to make a text accessible to a single viewer or reader.3

The application of this approach to the late sixteenth-century Nuremberg Miscellany seems particularly appropriate in light of the apparently single-handed, autograph nature of the manuscript, its unique compilatory content and the message carefully interwoven within its leaves. In pre-Modern Europe, the training of artists and artisans was a process of apprenticeship. By serving a master and imitating him, the young apprentice absorbed the skill and professional excellence of his trade. For trainees in the art and craft of writing, the medieval scriptoria provided systematic instruction, beginning with menial chores and errands and proceeding to the preparation of

1 The identity of the artist vis-à-vis the scribe will be dealt with in the Conclusion. 2 Kathryn Starkey, Reading the Medieval Book. Word, Image, and Performance in Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Willehalm (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004). 3 Ibid., 16. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-005

A Methodological Statement 

 65

the tincture and paint to be applied onto the parchment (and later, paper) sheet. Next, they received instruction on how to draw, paint, and apply gold and silver leaf, how to achieve volume and depth, as well as an introduction to the world of iconography. Tradition was thereby conferred from one generation to another, with very little expression of individuality and innovation.4 As aptly put by Colette Sirat about penmanship: . . . a beautiful handwriting is one that imitates in all respects the model supplied by the teacher . . . It is because the scribe’s ideal was to imitate the writing of his masters “with attention, intelligence, and practice” that it is sometimes so difficult to distinguish the one hand from the other.5

The same holds true for the art of embellishment and imagery. Within the Jewish realm, the process of acquiring professional artistic skills was very different. Depending largely on the attitude towards the Jews by the secular ruler or the Church in a particular setting—often a function of economic considerations —the possibility for Jews to join the artisans’ guilds varied from one country to another and was subject to change at any moment. In the Early Modern era, the Jews of Italy, for example, enjoyed relative freedom in this respect, as did the Jews of Bohemia and Moravia.6 By contrast, the Jews of Germany were not granted this prerogative and were sternly restricted in their occupational choices.7 Left with limited alternatives, they had to obtain their training within Jewish circles. Jewish artists, therefore, who could not be professionally trained in a workshop, followed a unique Jewish course.8 In their artwork, they followed traditional forms and models, while undoubtedly being inspired also by contemporary artistic fashions in vogue in the non-Jewish world.

4 A vivid description of the work in a medieval German scriptorium is provided by Aliza CohenMushlin, A Medieval Scriptorium: Sancta Maria Magdalena de Frankendal (Wolfenbütteler Mittelalter-Studien, Bd. 3) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1990). 5 Colette Sirat, Hebrew Manuscripts of the Middle Ages, ed. and trans. Nicholas de Lange (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 204. The author is incorporating here the words of Judah ibn Tibbon to his son in the twelfth century. 6 See above, pp. 29–30. 7 On the guilds and their role in the German economy in the Middle Ages, see Berent Schwineköper, ed., Gilden und Zünfte, kaufmännische und gewerbliche Genossenschaften im frühen und hohen Mittelalter (Vorträge und Forschungen: Konstanzer Arbeitskreis für Mittelalterliche Geschichte, Bd. 29) (Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke, 1985); Knut Schulz, “Patriziergesellschaften und Zünfte in den mittel- und oberrheinischen Bischofsstädten,” in ibid., 311–335. See also Wilhelm Störmer, “Vergesellschaftungsformen des Meliorats und des Handwerks in den Städten des bayerischösterreichischen Raumes,” in ibid., 337–375. 8 As argued by Beit Arié, Hebrew Manuscripts of East and West, 81–83.

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 Chapter 4 The Nuremberg Miscellany as a Cultural-Historical Document

The production process of a Hebrew manuscript was teamwork, with a typical division of labour between scribe and artist, often in collaboration with a massorator and a punctuator, and perhaps other professionals.9 As will be shown later, careful study of the Nuremberg Miscellany suggests that it all came from the hand of a single person.10 The level of execution of the manuscript indicates that he was not a manuscript illuminator trained in an artist’s workshop. Yet his use of colour, and furthermore the application of powdered gold tincture in two cases in the manuscript, in addition to regular paint, is a sign of professional know-how on a relatively high level, even if he was limited in his artistic deftness.11 The maker of the Nuremberg Miscellany was primarily a man of the quill and his artistic adeptness with the paintbrush is secondary. Nonetheless, the illustrations seem to reflect his cultural background, immediate milieu, and visual phantasy. The artist’s aim was not to win a reputation through his artwork, but to beautify a hands-on book intended for practical use. It is tempting to classify the artistry of the Nuremberg Miscellany as “folk art,” thus differentiating between “high” and “low” art. Originating in the Middle Ages, the distinction between the two terms is used rigidly, while at the same time they are too vague to be applicable to every work of art. In some cases, the two genres of art overlap and are inseparable. In 1938, Hans Karlinger defined, in the introduction to his Deutsche Volkskunst, the distinction between “folk art,” with its unplanned emergence and roots in tradition and custom, and the artistcentred nature of the so-called “pure art.”12

9 As described by Narkiss, “Author, Scribe, Massorator.” 10 This assumption will be discussed at length in the Conclusion. 11 The concept of an artist or an artisan using a preliminary plan, sketch, or perhaps even a guidebook (or model book) is already implied in the Midrash Genesis Rabbah, par. 1, as follows: “Another interpretation: 'amon is a workman (’uman). The Torah declares: I was the working tool of the Holy One, blessed be He. In human practice, when a mortal king builds a palace, he builds it not with his own skill but with the skill of an architect. The architect moreover does not build it out of his head, but employs plans and diagrams to know how to arrange the chambers and the wicket doors. Thus God consulted the Torah and created the world.” The English rendition of the citation is taken from Midrash Rabbah, translated into English with notes, glossary, and indices, ed. Rabbi Dr. H. Freedman and Maurice Simon (London: Soncino, 1939). The text, however, does not necessarily presuppose the use of an earlier model for the artwork, but does insist on consultation of plans and diagrams of whichever origin. 12 Karlinger, Deutsche Volkskunst, 9–10: “Reine Volkskunst entspringt somit absichtlos und unmittelbar aus dem Grundstrom der gestaltenden Phantasie, die im Blut eines Volkes ruht; innerhalb der Volkskunst wird seines unfaßbaren . . . Erbe und Brauch stehen an der Wiege der Volkskunst, nicht der Zeiten wechselnde Meinung, der Raum, der Gemeinschaft ist ihr Ursprungsort, so wie solcher aus Stamm, Boden und Umwelt wurde und wird.”

A Methodological Statement 

 67

To the historian of visual and material culture, it is the art that is derived from tradition and custom that is of particular interest. Unlike formally trained artists, folk artists often have no restrictions such as rigid doctrines of technique, composition, or artistic school, nor are they committed to conventional iconographic models. Integrated into their society, culture, and tradition, they are free to communicate their message as they wish. Their art is a creative reflection of the reality they encounter in their immediate milieu.13 This typically provides a more authentic reflection of daily life than works of “high art,” which may be influenced by a formal visual tradition or indoctrinated by iconographic stereotypes charged with their particular symbolism. Nor are the works of “folk art” reflective of an attempt to compliment the patron and create an œuvre that portrays him, his stance, and his standard of living on a more favored echelon, as a status symbol. Be its classification as it may, the Nuremberg Miscellany can fill in lacunae and shed a new light on the relatively incomplete cultural and religious history of Early Modern German Jews. In particular, it offers a glimpse into the daily life of a traditional, affluent southern German Jew, focusing on important rituals of the course of Jewish life and year cycle. Its images of ceremonial objects, costumes, and furniture provide, as it were, visual captions for written sources dealing with contemporary halakhah and minhag.14 Analysing the imagery of the manuscript, this study focuses on its direct message and immediate relevance to the reconstruction of the life of the artist and his patron. Consequently, material culture will play an important role in our discussion, especially with regard to the religious and socio-economic background of the manuscript’s owner and occasionally to clothing and furniture, depending on their relevance to the iconographic and historical reading of the image.

13 This is the view expressed by Karlinger, op. cit., 11. 14 See Menachem Schmelzer, “The Hebrew Manuscript as Source for the Study of History and Literature,” in Gold, Sign and Witness, 61–70.

Chapter 5 Moralistic and Homiletic Legacy Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy The first illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany represents a composite frontispiece. It lacks the common characteristics of a modern title page in that it does not contain the title of the book, the name of its author or compiler, and other bibliographic data which, by the time of the manuscript, followed more or less standardised formats, mainly in printed books. Rather, some details pertaining to the making of the Miscellany are included in the colophon inscribed on the concluding page of the original manuscript—a norm that was set in medieval manuscript production. Lacking these essential details which typically serve as the “gate” to the manuscript and the main source of information about the content and production of the book, fol. 1r of the Miscellany does, nonetheless, offer an abbreviated, almost cryptic declaration of the purpose and function of the volume, and perhaps also of its patron and recipient and the occasion for which it was conceived.1 Although this information is not explicit, it could be surmised if one carefully reads between the lines and behind the visual imagery, as will become clear below. Information regarding the production of a manuscript, including the name(s) of its maker(s) and the dates on which it was penned, decorated and terminated, if provided, would be placed at the end of the volume as a colophon. In the Jewish world, scribes (but rarely illuminators, punctuators, and massorators) also indicated bibliographic details at the end of the book. Title pages as we know them first appeared as an innovative feature in the Early Modern era and have a direct connection to the printing culture.2 In manuscripts and incunables, the first page of the tome typically remained uninscribed and unadorned, and was intended to protect the text within the book from soiling, scratching, or other damage. Embryonic title pages began to appear around the last decade of the fifteenth century with rather limited data. Gradually, title pages began providing more information, often set within elaborate frames, portals, and other decorative elements.

1 For example, Pietro Quarengi’s 1497 edition of Dante’s Divine Comedy featured only the author’s name and residence: “Dante Alighieri Florentine.” 2  An example is the woodcut and metal-type title page of Johannes Müller von Königsberg (a.k.a. Regiomontanus), Calendarium Regiomontanus, published in Venice in 1476 by Pictor, Loslein, and Ratdolt, See https://www.univie.ac.at/hwastro/books/regioColMed.pdf (retrieved 1.2.2021). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-006

Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy 

 69

Hebrew books were no different.3 The earliest extant Hebrew title pages date back to the sixteenth century. The first known dated book with such a device, albeit unadorned, is Sefer haRoqeaḥ by Ele'azar b. Judah of Worms, printed by Gershom Soncino in Fano in 1505.4 Daniel Bomberg of Venice included the earliest fully decorated title page (Sha'ar, Hebrew for “gate”) in his edition of the Jerusalem Talmud (1522–1523). Other printers followed him and gradually introduced title pages in their books.5 Notwithstanding the fact that, at the time of the manuscript’s creation, printing and the inclusion of title pages were already the norm, the Nuremberg Miscellany follows the earlier tradition of excluding a frontispiece. That its creator was aware of current trends is evident from the fact that, while not exactly a title page, the manuscript does begin with an illustrated opening page. The decorated page includes also a partly abbreviated text, inscribed in minute script, which, through interplay between text and image, sheds light on the identification of the patron and the recipient, and contributes to our understanding of the purpose of the book. On the other hand, it does not seem to be intended as a regular title page with an explicit indication of its content or as a source of bibliographic data. At the centre of the front page (fol. 1r) are images of a bearded man on the left and a youth on the right, standing on a patch of greenery and holding an oversized open book (see Figure 20). A Hebrew inscription above the book, ‫( ָרץ ַכ ְצ ִבי‬lit. “fleet as a hart”) is a clause from R. Judah b. Teima’s maxim in M. Avot (Ethics of the Fathers),6 which appears in full on the right side of the open book: 3 See Yardeni, Book of Hebrew Script, 103. The author states that “From 1487 onwards, the first page was decorated, and it eventually became the title page.” 4 According to Habermann, “The Jewish Art of the Printed Book,”, 458–470. See also idem, Title Pages of Hebrew Books (Safed: Museum of Printing, National Union of Printing Works in Israel, 1969), fig. 15 and discussion on 8–9 (Hebrew). 5 The introduction of title pages into Hebrew printed books is likely to have had some relationship to the inclusion of printers’ devices that served for the identification of the producer as ornamental embellishments, and perhaps as quality signets, and were therefore placed at the very prominent front of the book. To the best of our knowledge, the first Hebrew printers to use such devices were Eli'ezer b. Abraham Alantansi of Ixar and the brothers David and Samuel ibn Nahmias of Constantinople, whose marks appeared for the first time already in 1487. See Abraham Yaari, Diglei haMadpisim ha'Ivriyim (Hebrew Printers’ Marks from the Beginning of Hebrew Printing to the End of the 19th Century) (Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Press Association, 1943), XIV (Hebrew), and in the English introduction, VII. 6 Pirqei Avot or the Ethics of the Fathers are traditionally recited during the afternoon service of minḥah on Shabbat. On the history of this custom and its connection to the rabbinic-Karaite controversy, see the chapter on “The Saying of ‘Avoth’ on Shabbat,” in Yaakov Gartner, The Evolvement of Customs in the World of Halacha (Jerusalem: [n.p.p.], 1995), 59–73, and n. 1 (Hebrew).

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Figure 20: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

‫אֹומר ֱהוֵ י ַעז ַכנָ ֵמר וְ ַקל ַכנֶ ֶשר וְ ָרץ ַכ ְצ ִבי וְ גִ בֹור ָכ ֲא ִרי ַל ֲעׂשֹות ְרצֹון ָא ִביָך ֶש ַב ָש ַמיִ ם‬ ֵ ‫ימא‬ ָ ‫הּודה ֶבן ֵת‬ ָ ְ‫י‬ (“R. Judah b. Teima said, ‘Be bold as a leopard, and light as an eagle, and fleet as a hart, and strong as a lion, to do the will of your Father who is in Heaven.’”).7 The text rendered on the left page of the book contains the first five words of the fifth of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:11; Deuteronomy 5:16), ‫ַכ ֵבד ֶאת ָא ִביָך וְ ֶאת ִא ֶּמָך‬ (“Honour your father and your mother”). Following it is an excerpt from Proverbs 1:8: ‫תֹורת ִא ֶּמָך‬ ַ ‫מּוסר ָא ִביָך וְ ַאל ִתּטֹש‬ ַ ‫“( ְש ַמע ְבנִ י‬Hear, my son, the instruction of your father, and forsake not the teaching of your mother”).8 It stands to reason that the purpose of the proximity of the two texts is to convey an exegetical-moralistic message to the recipient of the book—in all likelihood a message from father to son – as coded also in the intergenerational presentation of the male figures on the title page (see Figure 21).

7 M. Avot, 5:20. This and all subsequent citations from the Mishnah are from Philip Blackman, Mishnayoth (In Six Volumes) (London: Mishna Press, 1954) 8 The biblical quotations in English follow the 1997 edition of the Revised Standard Version. Similar injunctions appear abundantly in the Bible. See Exod 20:12, 21:15; Lev 19:3, 20:9; Num 27:4; Deut 27:16; I Sam 2:25; II Sam 19:20; Jer 35:18; Mal 1:6; Prov 1:8, 3:12, 10:1, 29:3, 30:11; and I Chr 17:13.

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Figure 21: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany goes beyond the obvious message of the texts.9 He makes a distinction between the educational role of each of the parents, associating the teaching of the Written Law with the father, and that of the Oral Law with the mother. By doing so, he alludes to, and transcends, a similar deliberation by Rashi.10 Both sources follow an older tradition, preserved in the anonymous Babylonian Midrash Mishley.11 One of the interpretations offered there to the verse from Proverbs, in which the demand to hear (viz. obey)

9 As, for example, in a discourse on the proper treatment of parents in BT Kiddushin 31b: “Our Rabbis taught: What is “reverence” [for parents] and what is “honour”? “Reverence” [refers to one who] does not sit in his [parent’s] place and does not stand in his [parent’s] place, he does not contradict his [parent’s] opinions, and does not judge [his parent’s disputes]. “Honour” [refers to one who] feeds [his father or mother] and gives him (or her) drink; he clothes him (or her) and covers him (or her), and he helps him (or her) to enter and exit.” On the stages in the lifetime of a Jew, see Leopold Löw, Die Lebensalter in der jüdischen Literatur: von physiologischem, rechts-, sitten- und religionsgeschichtlichem Standpunkte betrachtet (Szegedin: S. Burger, 1875). 10 R. Shlomoh Yiẓḥaqi (Solomon b. Isaac) is commonly known by the acronym Rashi (Troyes, northern France, 1040–1105). Rashi is considered the prime and foremost commentator on the Bible and the Talmud, and was author of numerous responsa. See Avraham Grossman, Rashi, trans. Joel A. Linsider (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2012). 11 Midrash Mishley is an exegetical work on the Book of Proverbs. Its dating is disputed among the scholars, and usually ranges between the seventh and the ninth century. For more details, see Leopold Zunz, haDerashot beYisrael veHishtalshelutan haHistorit (translation of Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden historisch entwickelt, edited and augmented by Hanokh Albek) (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute Publications, 1974), 133, 412f. (Hebrew); as well as Shlomo Buber, Midrash Mishle (Vilna: ha’Almanah veha’Aḥim Romm, 1893), introduction (Hebrew). For an English translation, see Burton L. Visotzky, Midrash Mishle. The Midrash on Proverbs, trans. with

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the instructions of one’s father is spoken, alludes to the literary teaching or the Written Law, while the teachings of the mother stand for the Oral Law, represented by a more specific reference to ritual purity.12 Rashi proposes yet another reading for Proverbs 1:8 based on the apparent repetition and actual complementarity of the message in either part of the verse. The first, he maintains, represents the two levels of halakhah—the Written Law (Torah) and the Oral Law—both of which, according to Jewish tradition, God gave to Moses. In other words, although the Bible tells us that Moses received only the Ten Commandments inscribed on the Tablets of the Law, in fact God gave him the entire Torah, which includes the 613 commandments. The Oral Law expounds on the practical issues of these commandments and is now a written law, codified in the Mishnah and augmented later in the Talmud and subsequent rabbinical writings. It is further believed that God revealed most of the Oral Law to Moses already on Mount Sinai. M. Avot 1:1 teaches, to that effect, that Moses subsequently transmitted it to his successor, Joshua, who then passed it on to the Elders of the Jewish nation, in a chain that is still being carried on. According to Rashi’s commentary, the second part of the biblical counsel alludes to the Nation of Israel, or in his words, “Hear, my son, the instruction of your father—what the Holy One, blessed be He, gave Moses in writing and orally. [ . . . The teaching of] your mother—your nation, the nation of Israel . . .”13 The inscription in the illustration of the open book in the manuscript does not faithfully reflect any of the known written sources. If indeed the author was not relying on one particular literary text, he may have paraphrased it from memory. While its exact source is unidentifiable, the message of the quote is, nonetheless, loud and clear. Juxtaposed on the two pages of the book, it conveys the expectation of special zeal in fulfilling the precepts of honouring oneʼs father, mother, and the Torah. Thus, the texts on fol. 1r constitute an instruction for the recipient of the manuscript in the conduct of his personal and religious life. The visual pairing of a youth and a man, distinguished through their attires as well as the presence or absence of a beard, may be an indication that the manuscript was a gift from the elder to the younger, possibly from father to son. If this is indeed the case, he is conferring upon his son a particular ethical legacy. The man’s body language is compatible with this idea: his right index finger, pointing to the book, to the lad, or to both, makes the illustrated book and the text inscribed in it into the compositional focal point of the image (see Figure 22). introduction and annotations by Burton L. Visotzky, Yale Judaica Series 27 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992). 12 Buber, Midrash Mishle, Introduction, Per. 1, s.v. ‫ד´א שמע בני‬. 13 Rashi on Prov 1:8.

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Figure 22: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r: Schematic presentation of the composition [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The carefully planned arrangement of the page further enhances the importance that the patron and the artist attributed to the illustrated book. Medallions formed from wreaths, each containing the depiction of a different animal, adorn the four corners of the page. The four inhabited vegetal rondures portray the animals mentioned in the text attributed to the tana (mishnaic sage) Judah b. Teima quoted previously: “Be bold as a leopard, and light as an eagle, and fleet as a hart, and strong as a lion, to do the will of your Father who is in heaven.” Defying the textual sequence—leopard, eagle, hart, and lion—on the folio, the animals are arranged in a somewhat obscure order: the leopard at the bottom lert, the eagle above it, the hart set diagonally to the the bottom right, and the lion at the upper right.14 The imaginary diagonals direct the spectator’s glance to their intersecting point of the man, the lad, and the open book. 14 An interesting comparative illustration accompanies the beginning of the halakhic code Arba'ah Turim by Ya'aqov b. Asher (Cologne, 1270–Toledo, ca. 1340) in the Vatican Arba'ah Turim from Mantua, 1435, Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostilica Vaticana, Cod. Rossiana, Ms. 535, fol. 12v. It shows the four animals in the corners of a passe-par-tout frame of the page. The image is reproduced in Grace Cohen Grossman, Jewish Art (New York: Hugh Lauter Levin, 1995), 36. The initial word panel shows a crowd of men worshipping in a synagogue interior, while the corners

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The four medallions relate to one another also horizontally and vertically, as an invisible passe-par-tout. The structural centrifugal and centripetal dialogue of the opening page seems to be more than a mere artistic device used to create a balanced configuration. It employs compositional directionality in service of iconography, deliberately situating the elements in a near-symmetrical balance. Forgoing other options, such as placing the animals together, side by side, against a natural setting, inserting them into the round medallions forming an imaginary frame was quite clearly the artist’s intentional compositional statement. The combination of textual, exegetic, visual, and virtual components required a cognitive process as much textual-mnemonic as artistic-pictorial. The iconographic and thematic associations implicit in the visual theme of the four archetypal animals are probably a reflection of similar combinations of four animals, or animal-featured beings, such as the Tetramorphos.15 One prominent example of these is the celestial vision in the first chapter of Ezekiel, where the cosmic throne in the midst of a bright cloud of fire was borne by four animal-featured beings16: . . . in the fire was what looked like four living creatures. . . . Their faces looked like this: each of the four had the face of a human being, and on the right side each had the face of a lion, and on the left the face of an ox; each also had the face of an eagle.17

Ezekiel’s vision and Judah b. Teima’s maxim are very different in both text and context. While both feature the lion and eagle, the mishnaic source lacks the man and the ox of the prophecy, which in turn is short of the leopard and the hart. are occupied with the four animals, each fitted with the appropriate inscribed banner with the partial quotation of Judah ben Teima’s dictum. 15 On the Christian concept of the Tetramorphos, see Juan Eduardo Cirlot, A Dictionary of Symbols, trans. from the Spanish by Jack Sage (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1990), 339.‬‬ 16 On the Tetramorphos in Ezekiel’s vision and its cultural background in the ancient Near East, see Simon Landersdorfer, Der Baal Tetramorphos und die Kerube des Ezechiel (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1918; reprint, New York: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1967). Similar images appear in the Christian Apocalypse, alluding to Ezekiel’s vision: “And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and the third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle” (Rev 4:7). 17 Ezek 1:5, 10. An example of the throne is incorporated in the Leipzig Maḥzor from Southern Germany, from ca. 1310–1320, Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/I, fol. 31v. It is noteworthy that in the illustration, the order of the beings that surround the chariot does not comply with the biblical description. For a reproduction, see Marc Michael Epstein, The Medieval Haggadah. Art, Narrative, and Religious Imagination (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), fig. 13. The iconography of Ezekiel’s vision and the compositional setting of the four beings is the subject of the study by Sara Offenberg, “Jacob the Knight in Ezekiel’s Chariot: Imagined Identity in a Micrography Decoration of an Ashkenazic Bible,” AJS Review 40:1 (April 2016), 1–16. The author refers to the respective arrangement of the figures in various works of art, 3–4.

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 75

The obvious differences notwithstanding, it is plausible that human and collective memory may have coupled the numeric and thematic components of the four mostly animal-featured creatures bearing the heavenly throne with the four symbolic animals of the Mishnah. Such association may explain the artist’s choice to fashion the initial page of the Nuremberg Miscellany in an iconographic and compositional scheme reminiscent of the one frequently used in depictions of the heavenly chariot. Christian religious art also uses the emblematic four-animal motif. In this context, the construction of the manuscript’s initial page is evocative of familiar compositional settings in Christian religious art, such as Jesus Pantocrator surrounded by the Evangelists’ symbols. This iconography features in a more or less complex composition, as in the tympanum of the abbey church of Sainte-Marie d’ Arles-sur-Tech in the Western Pyrenees, built after 1046,18 in the Royal portal (west) of the Cathedral of Saint-Maurice d’Angers (see Figure 23) or in the apse

Figure 23: Cathedral of Saint-Maurice d'Angers (France), Royal portal (west) ca. 1200 (detail)

18 See Rolf Toman, ed., Romanesque: Architecture. Sculpture. Painting (Cologne: Könemann, 1997), 257.

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wall painting from around 1123 from Sant Climent de Taüll, in Cataluña.19 Other iconographic schemes that include the Tetramorphos are, for example, the Adoration of the Lamb, the Ascension, the Last Judgement, or the Heavenly Throne borne by the celestial animals—an iconography common to both Jewish and Christian art.20 Living in the midst of a Christian cultural milieu, the artist must have been familiar with these motifs not only in Jewish iconography but also in Christian art.21 Jewish iconography in medieval Ashkenaz features Ezekiel’s heavenly chariot at least as early as in the Ambrosiana Bible. Copied and illustrated probably in Ulm in 1236–1238, it includes a scene with the seven heavenly spheres.22 In the Wrocław Maḥzor of the Lower Rhenish school of manuscript illumination (ca. 1320), the four figures supporting the heavenly throne appear as part of a composition of the Gates of Mercy. The page shows an arch with its doors flung open, enclosing the words ‫ּפֹות ַח ָלנּו ַש ֲע ֵרי ַר ֲח ִמים‬ ֵ ‫[“( ַה‬The One] who opens for us the Gates of Mercy”) from the Yom Kippur liturgy.23 The empty throne of God above the arch is iconographically suggestive of the Hetoimasia or the Throne of the Second Coming of Jesus in Christian art. The initial word panel of [‫עֹולם ַח ְסּדֹו‬ ָ ‫] הֹודּו ַלה´ ִכי טֹוב ִכי ְל‬ (“O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good”—Psalm 136:1) in the Erna Michael Haggadah, penned and illustrated around 1400 in the Upper Rhine region of Germany,24 is set in a sumptuous rectangular panel on fol. 52v. At its four corners are medallions, each enclosing one of the animals of the Tetramorphos in a manner reminiscent of the animated wreaths in fol. 1r of the Nuremberg Miscellany (See Figure 24). 19 Currently kept in Barcelona, Museo de Arte de Cataluña, reproduced in ibid., 410. 20 One of the first appearances of the Evangelists’ symbols in Christian art is in the apse mosaic of the Basilica of Santa Pudenziana in Rome from the fourth century. An early indoctrinated representation of the four apocalyptic creatures of Ezekiel and Revelation surrounding the Apocalyptic Lamb dates to 440 CE, when Pope Leo I incorporated it into the embellished facade of Old Saint Peter’s in Rome. See further Harold R. Willoughby, “The Cycle of Text Illustrations [in the church of Santa Pudenziana, Rome],” Journal of Biblical Literature 52, nos. 2–3 (1933): 89–107.‬‬ 21 An interesting discussion on the relationship between the Jewish and the Christian concepts of the Tetramorphos is the study by Bernard McGinn, “Symbols of the Apocalypse in Medieval Culture,” Michigan Quarterly Review 22, no. 3 (1983): The Bible and Its Traditions, 265–283. See further Martin Werner, “The Four Evangelist Symbols Page in the Book of Durrow,” Gesta 8, no. 1 (1969): 3–17. 22 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS. B. 32 inf., fol. 135v. On the spirituality of the Tetramorphos portrayal, see Offenberg, “Jacob the Knight”: 3. 23 Wrocław Maḥzor, Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka we Wrocławiu, Cod. Or. I/1, fol. 89v. See Gabrielle Sed-Rajna, Die jüdische Kunst (aus dem französchichen von Peter Wild und Ute Wikenhauser) (Freiburg: Herder, 1997), 461, fig. 439. 24 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. no. 180/58; M549-3-66, Gift of Jakob Michael in memory of Erna Sondheimer-Michael.

Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy 

 77

Figure 24: Erna Michael Haggadah, Upper Rhine, ca. 1400, fol. 52v [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. no. 181/018; M5493-66] (Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama)

One possible hypothesis that might link similar arrangements inspired by Ezekiel and the four mishnaic animals could be that the artist, familiar with different Tetramorphous representations, deliberately chose to use one with a different set of four creatures, inspired by Judah b. Teima. Their specific iconographic features, particularly their respective postures, are consistent with their characterisation in his maxim. The might of the lion transpires from its passant guardant posture, facing the observer, boasting its strength. The hart courant aptly displays its fleetness,25 and the boldness of the leopard statant is visible in its massive body. Oddly, the artist placed it behind an obscure diagonal hatching, perhaps representing a fence or a cage and thereby implying the need to restrain its ferocity and direct it to the service of God. The fourth animal is exceptional in many ways. The single-headed heraldic eagle, displayed spreading both wings with its head to the left (heraldic view), is not as representative as the other animals of the textual characteristic in Tractate Avot. Described as “light as an eagle,” it would have been better served with a volant posture, with wings and legs splayed in eagerness to fulfil God’s will.

25 The hart in the illustration seems to be munching some leaves that are protruding from its mouth.

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One reason for this deviation could be the fact that the eagle, an avian, is the only non-quadruped in the group. Conversely, this could have been a deliberate choice reflecting not the context of the mishnaic source but that of German heraldic iconography, where it is typically portrayed volant, in a frontal posture (see Figure 25).26

Figure 25: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Along with the lion, the most prevalent animal in medieval German heraldry is the eagle, whose symbolism goes back to ancient Mesopotamia and was much favoured in Rome as well. The newly crowned emperor Charlemagne erected an imperial eagle in his palace at Aix-la-Chapelle.27 Later, when the concept of heraldry entered the realm of European nobility, the eagle featured in the Great Seal of the Margrave Leopold IV of Austria in 1136, which shows him carrying a shield charged with an 26 See, for example, the eagle from the central portal of the Rathaus (municipal building) in Nuremberg of 1617, made of gilt copper. Measuring an imposing 155 cm in height, it could hardly have been overlooked by anyone passing by. See Gerhard Bott, ed., Wenzel Jamnitzer und die Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst 1500–1700. Goldschmiedearbeiten: Entwürfe, Modelle, Medallien, Ornamentstiche, Schmuck, Porträts (eine Ausstellung im Germanischen Nationalmuseum Nürnberg vom 28. Juni–15. September 1985) (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum / Munich: Kinkhard & Bierman Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1985), 415–416. Compare also the depiction and posture of the eagle at the back of the cup shaped like a moor’s head, made by the famous goldsmith Christoph Jamnitzer of Nuremberg around 1595–1600, in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. 2000/81, in Renate Eikelmann, gen. ed., Bayerisches Nationalmuseum. Handbook of the Art and Cultural History Collections (Munich: Hirmer, [n.d.]), 156–157. 27 Ottfried Neubecker, A Guide to Heraldry (Maidenhead: McGraw-Hill, 1979), 110.

Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy 

 79

eagle. The single-headed eagle became a symbol of the Holy Roman Empire from the reign of Frederick Barbarossa in 1155. With some iconographic variations, it became the imperial symbol of the German monarch—the Regnum Teutonicum (see Figure 26).28 The emperor even granted certain princes and free cities in the empire the right to use the imperial eagle as supporters.29 From that time on, the eagle has been one of the predominant features of the blazons of various states and kingdoms in Germany, including the Margraviate of Burgau, south of the Danube.30 In 1301,

Figure 26: Hofämterspiel, Germany, ca. 1455: “Hofmeister” (Major domo) [Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv. No. KK 5112] 28 Carl-Alexander von Volborth, Heraldry: Customs, Rules and Styles (Poole: Blandford, 1981), 71. The single-headed eagle represents the Kingdom of Germany, as opposed to a double-headed eagle representing the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. 29 Ibid. Supporters are figures, often of animals, on either side of the central element of the shield in a coat of arms. 30 One should, however, mention the commonly used motif of the eagle with its widespread wings that was part and parcel of local iconography and decorated a multitude of objects also in non-imperial contexts. See, for example, the central motif in the frieze running in front of the rose window of the western facade of the Lorenz-Kirche in Nuremberg, begun in 1270. Compare also the “eagle goblet” by Christoph Jamnitzer, made in 1595, currently in Moscow, in the Armory

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Burgau was merged into the Habsburg Monarchy as part of Anterior Austria, and the Margraviate belonged to the Duchy of Swabia between 1301 and 1805. A close examination of the wreath that encloses the eagle on the manuscript’s opening page reveals another difference from the ones surrounding the other three animals. Four decorative bands enwrap the garlands of the medallions, except for the one containing the eagle that bears only three such strips. An additional device, instead of the fourth band, is placed to the right, suggestive of a heraldic sign with alternating green and white or silver diagonal bands. The conclusive identification of this device is problematic, given its minuscule dimensions. One cannot rule out, though, the possibility that it is a representation of a crest of a Jewish patron. While coats of arms were of feudal origin and generally reserved for the Christian nobility, Jews have assumed coats of arms to their liking as far back as the Late Middle Ages.31 They used such crests in their official dealings with gentiles, on legal documents, community seals, or private signets,32 although they were not entrusted with them by the ruler. The rise of court Jewry in Central Europe provided a handful of Jews with the legal privilege of using a coat of arms granted by the local authorities. The

of the National Museum of the Kremlin, reproduced in Ralf Schürer, “Nürnbergs Goldschmiedeund ihre Auftraggeber,” in Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst 1541–1868, Bd. II: Goldglanz und Silberstrahl (Begleitband zur Ausstellung im Germanischen Nationalmuseum, Nürnberg, 20. September 2007–13. Januar 2008), ed. Karin Tebbe and Ralf Schürer (Nuremberg: Verlag des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 2007), 71, fig. 39. 31 The selected references herein refute the conclusive assertion by Arthur Charles Fox-Davies, A Complete Guide to Heraldry (New York: Skyhorse, 2007), 11–12, namely that “. . . the fact remains that no trace of Jewish heraldry can be found until modern times.” Cf., for example, data contradicting this statement in Aviva Ben-Ur, “Still Life: Sephardi, Ashkenazi, and West African Art and Form in Suriname’s Jewish Cemeteries,” American Jewish History 92, no. 1 (2004): 66 and 68, n. 133. See some sample publications on Jewish heraldry and coats of arms, such as Isaac da Costa, Noble Families Among the Sephardic Jews (London: Oxford University Press; H. Milford, 1936), especially 193. See further Alfred Rubens, Anglo-Jewish Notabilities: Their Arms and Testamentary Dispositions (London: Jewish Historical Society of England, 1949), 75–128; Cecil Roth, “Stemmi di famiglie ebraiche italiane,” in Scritti in memoria di Leone Carpi, ed. Daniel Carpi, Attilio Milano and Alexander Rofé (Milan: Fondazione Sally Mayer, 1967), 165–184; Daniel Friedenberg, Medieval Jewish Seals from Europe (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1987).‬‬ See also Paul Diamant, “Zsidó Címerek,” Mult és Jövő 18 (1928): 43–45. 32 As, for example, the heraldic device in the seal of R. Naphtali Cohen (1649–1718), discussed by Mordechai Narkiss, “Ḥotemet degem shel rabbi Naphtali Kohen” (The Signet of Rabbi Naphtali Cohen), Qiriat Sefer 15 (1938/1939): 370–372 (Hebrew). See recently Andreas Lehnertz, Judensiegel im spätmittelalterlichen Reichsgebiet. Beglaubigungstätigkeit und Selbstrepräsentation von Jüdinnen und Juden, 2 vols. (Forschungen zur Geschichte der Juden A 30) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2020).

Four Archetypal Animals and Parental Legacy 

 81

first recorded Jew with an officially assigned coat of arms was Jacob Bassevi von Treuenberg (1570–1634), a Bohemian court Jew and financier of Italian origin. His patron, the German emperor Ferdinand II, raised him to nobility and granted him the right to a coat of arms in 1622 in recognition of his services during the Thirty Years’ War.33 Jewish heraldic or similar devices are visible on various Jewish seals, manuscripts, and other objects from the Germanic lands,34 as well as on Jewish tombstones in Eastern Europe,35 a phenomenon that became gradually more prevalent among wealthy Jewish families in the Early Modern era.36 Rather than a personal heraldic sign of the owner or sponsor, the presence of the escutcheon-like device in the Nuremberg Miscellany may perhaps represent an expression of patriotism and loyalty to a local ruler. The alternating diagonal stripes and the eagle volant contained in the medallion are two important components of the insignia of the Margraviate of Brandenburg, which highlights stripes and a frontal eagle, albeit with different coloring.37 Both these elements feature,

33 Heinrich Grätz, Geschichte der Juden. Von den ältesten Zeiten bis zur Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Friese, 1853–1876), vol. 10, 37. See also Gerson Wolf, “Die Juden unter Ferdinand II. Nach Aktenstücken in den Archiven der K. K. Ministerien des Innern u. Äussern,” in Jahrbuch für die Geschichte der Juden und des Judenthums (Institut zur Förderung der Israelitischen Literatur, Leipzig) 1 (1860): 238–239. 34 As shown, for example, by Vivian B. Mann, “‘New’ Examples of Jewish Ceremonial Art from Medieval Ashkenaz,” Artibus et Historiae 9, no. 17 (1988): 17–20; other examples found on belt ornaments found in the Erfurt treasure, studied by Maria Stürzebecher, Der Erfurter Schatz (Jena-Quedlinburg: Bussert & Stadeler, 2009), 56–59; and more recently, Sven Osteritz, ed., Die Mittlealterliche Jüdische Kultur in Erfurt, Bd. 1: Der Schatzfund: Archäologie-KunstgeschichteSiedlungsgeschichte (Weimar: Thüringisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie  / Langenweißbach; Bier & Beran, 2010), 117, fig. 25, and Cat. No. 30, 234, fig. 30a; idem, Bd. 2: Der Schatzfund. Analysen-Herstellungstechniken-Rekonstruktionen (Weimar: Thüringisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie-Langenweißbach; Bier & Beran, 2010), 346, figs. 245, 247, 249. 35 See Jan Heřman, Jewish Cemeteries in Bohemia and Moravia (Prague: Council of Jewish Communities in the CSR, 1980), 31, and photo 74 for the tombstone of Bassevi von Treuenberg. 36 An interesting example is the tombstone of Kalman Rothschild (d. 1707) in the cemetery of Frankfurt am Main boasting the house and family crest “Zur Hinterpfann,” reproduced in Michael Brocke and Christiane E. Müller, Haus des Lebens. Jüdische Friedhöfe in Deutschland (Leipzig: Reclam, 2001), 89. 37 Cf., for example, the iron decorations of the door, made in Nuremberg in the second half of the fourteenth century. It bears the insignia of the “Reichsadler,” the crest of Nuremberg with its diagonal stripes on the right and the half-eagle on the left, along with the Bohemian double-tailed lion. The door belongs to the collection of Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. A149, and is reproduced in G. Ulrich Großmann et al., eds., Germanisches Nationalmuseum: Führer durch die Sammlungen (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2001), 79.

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for example, in the (posthumous) Great Portrait of Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg, painted by Albrecht Dürer around 1511–1513 (see Figure 27).38

Figure 27: Albrecht Dürer, Great Portrait of Emperor Sigismund, Nuremberg, ca. 1511–1513 [Nuremberg, Germanisches   Nationalmuseum, Gm168]

In its juxtaposition with the eagle volant in the medallion, the picture in the Nuremberg Miscellany is also allusive of the two main elements in the emblem of the city of Nuremberg, yet with a frontal half-eagle on the right and alternating red and white stripes.39 The half-eagle can be seen, for example, among the insignia of the Habsburg monarchy and the Margraviate of Burgau in the relief of the eastern gable of the local granary (Mauthalle) in Nuremberg, carved by Adam Kraft in 1502 (see Figure 28).

38 This painting, along with the panel depicting Charlemagne, were the only panels that Dürer was commissioned to paint for the municipality of Nuremberg. The oil and tempera panel painting measures 215 x 115 cm, and is kept in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. Gm 168 (on loan from the City of Nuremberg). See Maué and Kupper, Treasures, 77 and description on 76–77. The eagle in the crest is taken from the arms of the Schwabegg-Ursberg family which founded two monasteries in the district. 39 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. Pl.O. 2849, ibid., 56.

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Figure 28: Adam Kraft, Granary, Nuremberg, 1502: Eastern gable

This symbol features also in a woodcut, showing a postman of Nuremberg, dated to the second half of the sixteenth century,40 as well as, for example, in the playing card the “four-of-hearts”, printed in Nuremberg by Michael Schrag in 1547 after an older model.41 An example for the composite emblem of Nuremberg comes from a printed woodcut showing a postman of only a few decades earlier than the Nuremberg Miscellany (see Figure 29).

40 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. Nr. HB2304. 41 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. GNM Sp. 169–216, in Hoffmann, Altdeutsche Spielkarten, 192, and in other versions, such as the one from 1555, ibid., 198. See also Die Hausbücher der Nürnberger Zwölfbrüderstiftung, ca. 1425, Nürnberg, Stadtbibliothek, Amb. 317.20, fol. 16v (Mendel I).

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Figure 29: “Nürnberger Briefbote,” Nuremberg, 1551 [Nürnberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB2304]

The exquisite “Kaiserpokal”, made by the Nuremberg goldsmith Wenzel Janmnitzer in honour of the visit of Maximilian II (1564–76) in Nuremberg on July 8, 1570, reierates the identification.42 The goblet is richly decorated, including statuettes of dukes, high-ranking clergy and other dignitaries and their respective insignia, indluding the diagonal stripes and half-eagle of Nuremberg. This may be another argument in favour of identifying the coat of arms in the manuscript as a somewhat personalised declaration of allegiance to the local ruler. Separating the two elements composing the coat of arms—the alternating stripes and the half-eagle—is probably the artist’s attempt to comply with the iconography of the animals mentioned in Judah b. Teima’s words. A half-figure eagle, as in the official local coat of arms, would have been out of place in the context of the four symbolic mishnaic animals. It seems, thus, that the artist deliberately apportioned the entire space of the band holding the wreath to a full figure of a heraldic eagle displayed while singling out and reserving the diagonal striped motif to the band holding the wreath. Alternatively, the artist’s choice 42 Berlin, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Inv.-Nr. 63,16, reproduced in Claus H. Czogalla, “Der Berliner Kaiserpokal von Wenzel Jamnitzer als Supplikationspokal des Landsberger Bundes: Neubestim-mung eines historischen Dokuments,” Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen, 49. Bd. (2007), 63, fig. 22.

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may have been purely technical, as an accurate depiction of the coat of arms as such within the small space allotted to the escutcheon would have been too demanding. Heraldic iconography may also have inspired the particular execution of the lion figure, with its passant guardant posture, its head facing the front rather than in the direction of its movement. Similar figures of lions appear in the coat of arms of the Hohenstaufen dynasty, the former dukes of Swabia, used for the first time in 1216. Their escutcheon represents three superimposed lions, each holding the same posture as the one in the manuscript (see Figure 30). The coat of arms of the barons of Hohenstaufen is depicted in an extensive work on the history of Württemberg, written by David Wolleber in Schorndorf in 1591 and entitled Chorographia Württemberg.43 It also appears, for example, as part of the heraldic device of the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (1459–1519).44

Figure 30: Oria-Salento (Italy), Castello Svevo, 1225–1233: Coat of arms of the   Hohenstaufen (detail)

Inserting signs of loyalty of this kind to the monarch within a Jewish context probably goes beyond a simple, neutral token of gratitude. Hinting at the Margraves of Swabia, the eagle in its wreath with the heraldic device and the lion

43 Tübingen, Universitätsbibliothek, Mh 6, 1, fol. 181r. 44 Maximilian I (1459–1519) was king of the Romans from 1493 and Holy Roman Emperor from 1508, who was appointed archduke of Inner Austria, duke of Styria and Carniola from 1493, archduke of Further Austria, archduke of Upper Austria, count of the Tyrol from 1490, and titular duke of Burgundy de jure uxoris from 1477 to 1482.

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with its unusual posture possibly offer both a personal message of admiration of the ruler for a special official appointment of rank and an opportunity to make it public. This was the case, in the sixteenth century, of the highly influential family of Jews, the Ulma-Günzburg (Ulmann/Ulmo) family of the Augsburg region, mentioned earlier.45 The manuscript includes reference to this family both in a memorial (yizkor) inscription and in an ownership inscription on fol. 45r of the Nuremberg Miscellany.46 The connection between the manuscript and the quote from the Mishnah is not restricted to the presence of the four animal figures. The same chapter in which the maxim that mentions the four animals includes also an ethical text on the ages of man as a sequel to the words of Judah b. Teima: He used to say: At five years of age [one is ready] for the study of the Scripture (Torah), at ten years of age [one is fit] for the study of the Mishnah, at the age of thirteen for the fulfilling of the commandments, at the age of fifteen for the study of the Talmud, at eighteen for marriage, at twenty for [pursuing] a vocation, at thirty for entering into one’s full vigor, at the age of forty for understanding, at the age of fifty for counsel, at the age of sixty [one attains] old age, at the age of seventy for the hoary [head], at the age of eighty for special strength, at the age of ninety for bending beneath the weight [of old age], at the age of a hundred [one is] as though he were already dead and had passed away and ceased from the world.47

The Nuremberg Miscellany does not contain this mnemonic account of the ages of man, but as an inter-generational gift with an educational-moralistic message, it may reflect this mishnaic missive as a hidden subtext. This notion complements the juxtaposition of the two protagonists of the illustration—the youth and the adult, in absentia. The emphasis in the manuscript on early life cycle rituals such as childbirth,

45 A visual link between the Nuremberg Miscellany and the Ulma-Günzburg family can be observed in the cemetery in Kriegshaber-Pfersee, nowadays part of the city of Augsburg. The cemetery’s ancient relics include a seventeenth-century tombstone of a member of the Ulma-Günzburg family, with a family coat of arms replicating that of the town of Leipheim in Swabia, flanked by two harts. See https://jhva.wordpress.com/category/leipheim/ (accessed March 26, 2020). A similar escutcheon, enclosed in a wreath, appears on the tombstone of Judah Leib Ulma from 1719, albeit with rampant lions rather than harts. The inscription in the crest at the top of the tombstone includes R. Judah b. Teima’s maxim from M. Avot 5:20 mentioned above. See https://jhva. wordpress.com/2013/04/16/pictures-of-augsburg/#jp-carousel-5471 (accessed April 26, 2020). 46 The connection between the Ulma-Günzburg-Ulmann family and the manuscript is dealt with in the Conclusion. On the history of the Jews of Ulm, see Friedrich Dicker, Die Geschichte der Juden in Ulm. Festschrift zur Einweihung der Synagoge 12. September 1873, Herausgegeben von dem Israelitischen Leseverein in Ulm (Ulm: Gebrüder Rübling, [1873]), with documentation mainly from the thirteenth through the fifteenth century. 47 M. Avot 5:21, trans. Blackman, Mishnayoth, vol. IV, 538.

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circumcision and baby naming (Hollekreisch), as well as marriage, may, indeed, be an indication that the manuscript was a gift for a young man entering adulthood. An inscription on the opening page, of a size and position that could lend it the role of a title, includes the words ‫“( ָרץ ַכ ְצ ִבי‬swift as a hart”) in bold square script. It is clearly different in size and typeface from the inscription in the open book at the centre of the composition. Above the letters there are tiny serifs, flourishes or strokes, tagin in Aramaic. This may be a reference to special decorations used in Jewish scribal art to mark specific letters when copying Torah scrolls and megillot, or a biblical passage in mezuzot and tefillin.48 Simulating the sacred texts, the book depicted in the Miscellany is thereby promoted to a higher level of importance. Another association with the hart depicted in one of the medallions of the opening page may be the figure of the lad in a running posture. This could be a literal visual representation of “swift as a hart,” while conveying the teaching of the complete expression: “[Be] Swift as a hart . . . to do the will of your Father in Heaven.” Given the prominence of the inscription that mentions the hart, its visual and textual connection with the youth, as well as the configuration of animals, the placing of the hart directly below the youth, may be more than a coincidence. The compositional proximity of the inscription, the youth, and the hart may be an allusion to yet another message lying beyond the plain iconographic reading of the scene. The bottom of fol. 41r refers to a father’s blessing of his son. Blessing the children on Shabbat Eve is a widespread Jewish custom. Here, however, we see it in the context of the havdalah ritual, ending Shabbat or a festival. Instead of showing a contemporary image of a father placing his hands on his children’s heads and conferring his blessing upon them, as one would expect, the artist invokes imagery from biblical history—Isaac’s blessing for Jacob—with a relatively weak connection to the text. Below this scene, in the bottom, a hunter— by inference probably Esau—is chasing a hart.49 There was no immanent textual reason to include the hunting scene in this context, except for the artist’s fancy, or perhaps a veiled message he may have wished to convey. Esau’s pursuit of the game offered the artist further opportunity to present a hart—in Hebrew ẓvi—which is a common given name. This may well be an additional indication of the name of the patron or the recipient of the Nuremberg Miscellany, concealed in the special compositional arrangement of fol. 1 of the manuscript.50 If this is indeed the case, it gives another dimension to

48 The tagin appear only above specific letters. They are attributed to Rabbi Akiva in BT Menachot 29b. 49 For the paternal blessing on Shabbat Eve, see 413–414. 50 See the discussion on this issue in the Conclusion.

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the multi-layered meaning of the inscription-hart-youth by emphasising the word/name. In other words, in the hunting scene, the artist accentuated reference to the personal name Ẓvi, in addition to the spotlight he had cast in the composite arrangement of the inscription-hart-youth on the incipit page of the manuscript. His emphasis on the word/name Ẓvi in this context simultaneously accentuates a motif that seems to be part of the Ulma-Günzburg family crest.51 While the primary role of biblical scenes in this manuscript is to tell a story, another role may be, especially in the case of Isaac blessing his son, to invoke the issue of father-son relationships dominating the manuscript from its opening page on. A third role of this particular scene may be to portray Esau— the biblical progenitor of Edom, which Jewish tradition equated with Rome, and later with Christianity—pursuing the hart, representing the nation of Israel, as Jews refer to themselves.52 Juxtaposing and even opposing Esau the mighty hunter with Jacob, the peaceful and blessed son, corresponds to the Jewish perception of the relationship between them and ’umot ha'olam, “the nations of the world.”53 As we saw, the opening page of the Nuremberg Miscellany uses a combination of textual and visual narratives to convey a personal, local-regional, and a communal-national message. Through the inscription on the image of the open book, it addresses the recipient of the manuscript, perhaps a young adult of the eve of his wedding, with the teaching of filial piety and observance of Jewish Law. The medallions with the four animals in their wreaths are bearers of another dual message, one of Jewish religion and culture and another of national-patriotic

51 More on the proposed ascription of the manuscript to the Ulma-Günzburg family, see in the Conclusion. 52 Supporting this hypothesis is the fact that the hart—ẓvi—often represents Israel in numerous biblical texts. See, for example, King David’s lamentation upon hearing of the death of King Saul and his son Jonathan: ‫בֹורים‬ ִ ִ‫מֹותיָך ָח ָלל ֵאיְך נָ ְפלּו ג‬ ֶ ‫“—ה ְצ ִבי יִ ְׂש ָר ֵאל ַעל ָב‬The ַ beauty [lit. hart] of Israel is slain on your high places: how are the mighty fallen!” (II Sam 1:19). See further Gerson D. Cohen, “Esau as Symbol in Early Medieval Thought,” in Jewish Medieval and Renaissance Studies, ed. Alexander Altmann (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 1967), 19−48; Israel J. Maier, “‘Edom’ in den Ausdeutungen zu Dtn 2, 1−8,” in Judentum – Ausblicke und Einsichten; Festgabe für Kurt Schubert zum siebzigsten Geburtstag, ed. Clemens Thoma, Günter Stemberger, and Johann Maier (Frankfurt am Main ; New York: P. Lang, 1993), 135−184. 53 The hunting motif in Jewish iconography with notes on its Christian interpretation and significance has been discussed at length by Sara Offenberg, “Expressions of Meeting the Challenges of the Christian Milieu in Medieval Jewish Art and Literature” (PhD diss., Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, 2008) 97–143, especially with regard to Esau as a model for the hunter, 113–128 (Hebrew).

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obedience. While the thematic choice of the text and its visual embellishments is unquestionably moralistic-instructional, intended to promote devotion and piety, the specific iconographic rendering of the animals and the particular details of the portrayal are meant to localise the home of the patron and the recipient within the Duchy of Swabia, or, more specifically, in the Margraviate of Burgau.

Homiletic Discourse: Framing a Textual Unit The bifolio, consisting of fols. 1 and 2 of the Nuremberg Miscellany, is definitely part of its original configuration. At the same time, it is visibly an appendage to the first 6-folio quire, glued onto it already in the initial production phase or, at the latest, before the initial binding of the manuscript.54 The additional bifolio contains a compilation of quotes or free renditions from various homiletic writings—a genre that recurs nowhere else in the manuscript. This rather lengthy exposition differs from the moralistic messages of the rest of the text by virtue of its venturing into a theological discourse on the Creation of the universe. Paraphrasing numerous sources, it nonetheless reads as a continuous and coherent text. From fol. 1v to 2v, the text flows uninterruptedly, with only one slight visual-textual change.55 To some degree, the two folios, 1v through 2v have a compositional relationship, since the images of arches resting on imposing decorated columns create visual frames around their respective texts (see Figure 31).56 This graphic device sets the homiletic discourse enclosed within the arches as a “gateway” to the body of the manuscript, which, unlike the theological homily preceding it, focuses on Jewish liturgy, Law, and custom. The fact that the only full-page illustration, on fol. 3r, separates the preamble and the main text gives additional emphasis to this distinction.

54 The relationship between these two folios and the rest of the manuscript is discussed in the Conclusion. 55 In the highlighted letters ‫ אשל‬at the bottom of fol. 2r. The scribe may have chosen to render these letters in a large and different font because they form an acrostych that is part of his elucidation on Abraham’s hospitality. This visual theme appears immediately after the homily, on fol. 3r. 56 The arch occurs in just one other instance in the book: on fol. 3v, as a gate or passageway into the liturgical part of the book that begins with Psalm 23.

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Figure 31: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 1v-2r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Framing texts in arches has a long history. Early Christian and Byzantine manuscripts often used them to frame various evangelical references in canon tables.57 Obviously, in Jewish art, frames play a different role.58 Beside decorating title pages and illustrating an “entryway” to the book, they usually mark the beginning of important passages in the text, or serve to distinguish between sections. In the Nuremberg Miscellany, they resemble the heavy and richly decorated arches of earlier Hebrew manuscripts, mainly from the Romanesque era, such as 57 Canon tables are a concordance of two or more parallel texts of the Gospels, compiled by Eusebius of Caesarea in the fourth century. Beginning with Late Antiquity, the canon tables usually occupied the beginning of a Gospel book. In illuminated manuscripts, they were often inscribed within arcaded frames. Some examples of canon tables rendered in elaborate frames are found in the Syriac Rabbula Gospels of the sixth century, now in Florence, Biblioteca Mediceo Laurenziana, cod. Plut. I, 56. See Kurt Weitzmann, Late Antique and Early Christian Book Illumination (New York: George Braziller, 1977), fol. 4v, 97, and image on 98, as well as fol. 9v, 100, and reproduction on 99. 58 The history of the employment of the arch in Hebrew manuscripts is delineated by Rachel Vishnitzer, “The Motif of the Arch in Book Ornamentation,” Rimon 4 (1923): 2–7 (Hebrew). The author maintains that many of these are meant to portray the gates of the Temple.

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ָ recited before the beginning of the page that includes the initial words ‫כל נִ ְד ֵרי‬, the evening service on Yom Kippur in the mid-thirteenth-century south German Amsterdam Maḥzor59 (see Figure 32), or other contemporary Ashkenazi maḥzorim.

Figure 32: Amsterdam Maḥzor Cologne, Germany, ca. 1250 Collection Jewish Historical Museum, Amsteredam, and Jüdisches Museum Köln, Archäologische Zone M014777], fol. 180v

The two-pillar motif in Jewish art and architecture dates back to the Hebrew Bible. The description of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem includes reference to two massive copper pillars placed on either side of the sanctuary gate, named Yakhin (also spelled: Jachin) and Bo'az. The Bible relates that, “He set up the pillars at the vestibule of the temple; he set up the pillar on the south and called its name Jachin, and he set up the pillar on the north and called its name Bo'az.”60 This tradition has several implications. The prominent placement of the twin pillars on the Temple premises, as well as the unusual fact of giving them names normally reserved for humans, invests them with a virtual role of guardians of the passage from the mundane to the sacred realm, on the one hand, and between different levels of sanctity on the other hand. Symbolically, therefore, arches with pillars hinting at Yakhin and Bo'az may have been included in the Nuremberg 59 Amsterdam, Collection Jewish Historical Museum, and MiQua, LVR-Jewish Museum in the Archaeological Quarter Cologne Jüdisches Museum Koln, Archäologische Zone, M014777, fol. 180v. 60 I Kgs 7:21. See also II Chr 3:17. The pillars are described in I Kgs 7:15–20, and a similar description in Jer 52:21–23.

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Miscellany as demarcations of the separation between the moralistic part of the book and the liturgical main body of the text. An early midrashic exposition, an external Mishnah, the Baraita deRabbi Pinḥas, probably from the Second Temple period,61 discussed the biblical narrative describing the construction of the Tabernacle and later the Holy Temple and the symbolic meaning of their components, including Yakhin and Bo'az. According to this midrash, the pillars, which had no architectural role in supporting any structure whatsoever, represented the moon and the sun, “. . . and like them, in the [human] body [there are] two eyes; [just as] the eyes are high and set into the head, so [also] the two pillars were tall and thick.”62 By the High Middle Ages this had become a mainstream tradition reflected in Rashi’s eleventh-century commentary on II Chronicles 3:17. In an attempt to interpret the names of the two pillars, Rashi goes beyond this midrash. He underscores the linguistic similarity between the name Yakhin and, sharing the same root, the verb yikkon (‫“ =יִ כֹון‬will be established”) in Psalm 89:38, “It shall be established forever as the moon; and be steadfast as the witness in sky,” alluding to the Davidic dynasty symbolised by the moon. Concerning the other column, Bo'az, Rashi says it stands for the sun, based on Psalm 19: 7, “It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other . . .” In its exegesis to I Kings 7:21, the thirteenth-century midrashic text Yalquṭ Shim'oni also mentions the tradition of Yakhin and Bo'az as symbolic references to the sun and the moon which circumscribe the universe and govern it.63 These ideas are well entrenched in Jewish textual tradition. We can safely assume that the artist knew them as well, and that they inspired the iconographic composition of the first pages of the manuscript. Thus, the theological homily, representing a transition from the ordinary to the sacred or between levels of sanctity, stands amidst visual motifs alluding to Yakhin and Bo'az, the pillars that had the same role in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. 61 The baraita was named after Pinḥas ben Ya’ir, the first sage named in it, and is also known as Midrash Tadshe. It was first published from a manuscript by Adolph Jellinek, Bet haMidrash. Midrashim Ketanim Yeshanim uMaʻamarim Shonim, Asafti ve'Arakhti 'a. pi. Kitve Yad uDefusim . . . ani Aharon Yellinek (Bet ha-Midrasch: Sammlung kleiner Midraschim und vermischter Abhandlungen aus der ältern jüdischen Literature) (Jerusalem: Bamberger & Wahrmann, 5699/1938; reprint of Leipzig: Friedrich Nies, 1853–1877), vol. 3, 164–193 (Hebrew). According to Maimonides, introduction to Mishneh Torah §18, the baraitot—the alterative oral traditions meant to explain the text of the Mishnah—were compiled by R. Hoshaya and Bar Kappara. 62 See Judah David Eisenstein, ed., Otsar midrashim (Otsar midrashim. A Library of Two Hundred Minor Midrashim), Vol. II (New York: J. D. Eisenstein, 1915), 475–476 (Hebrew). 63 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to I Kgs §186, s.v. ‫שלחנות עשרה‬. It actually quotes Baraita deRabbi Pinḥas verbatim.

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The allusions to the textual traditions may go even a step further if we consider a short passage interwoven into the explanation in Yalquṭ Shim'oni on the role and purpose of the celestial luminaries that follows the discussion of the copper columns: “The world is sustained by virtue of the Ten Commandments.”64 This short comment must have led the artist’s thoughts to the reflection on the number of pillars that bear the universe, probably also to their nature. He thus added his own exegetical share to the discourse handed down by the compiler on fols. 1v-2v, suggesting, as he explicitly does on fol. 2v, that the world is borne on two pillars, which are an allusion to the Solomonic pillars and to the two celestial luminaries at the same time.65

The Elephant-Borne Archway The message of filial piety and ritual obligations continues from folio 1r onward, using texts from M. Avot and other rabbinic sources. The multi-coloured, intricate initial word ‫( תנן‬Ara. “we have learned”),66 is located in the composition on top of an arch, which is supported by two vegetally decorated columns flanking the text. Both columns are resting on turreted elephants, set in a symmetrical arrangement, back-to-back.67 At the top of the columns are two outlined charges for coats of arms, left unadorned and possibly planned for the insignia of a ruler, a patron, or the recipient(s) of the manuscript.68 This and the following pages resemble architectural portals, a decorative element that dates back to the Roman period and was revived in the Romanesque era. From that time, the sculpted archway appears in church portals, palaces, and other public buildings in what Meyer Schapiro calls “the rebirth of monumental sculpture in the

64 Ibid. 65 See further in the discussion of fol. 2v, 111–114. 66 This Aramaic marker denotes the opening of a quotation of a Mishnah within a talmudic discourse. 67 For the history of the elephant in antiquity, see Frederick Everard Zeuner, A History of Domesticated Animals (London: Hutchinson, 1963), 275–298. On the role of animals in medieval European culture and the place of bestiaries in European art, see, for example, Alexander Pluskowski, “Narwhals or Unicorns? Exotic Animals as Material Culture in Medieval Europe,” European Journal of Archaeology 7, no. 3 (2004): 291–313. 68 As will be proposed later, it is likely that the manuscript was intended as a wedding gift. If this is the case, the charges could have borne the coats of arms of the wedded parties, although these were not popular among the Jews of Germany.

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west.”69 One of its multiple influences on Western art and architecture was the incorporation of the archway also into the imagery of illuminated manuscripts. It often served as a frame for Evangelistsʼ portraits, other personages, or important motifs to underscore their prominence (see Figure 33).70

Figure 33: Gospel Book of St. Médard de Soissons, Aachen, ca. 800, fol. 180v: St. John the Evangelist [Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. lat. 8850]

The use of the elephant motif as the pedestal of pillars also follows a long tradition. As far back as the Early Christian and Byzantine era, and well into the High Middle Ages, artists extensively incorporated representations of animals into the iconographic schemes of monumental architectural sculptures, illuminated manuscripts, stained glass windows, carved ivories, and tapestries. The use of 69 Meyer Schapiro, Romanesque Architectural Sculpture (The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures), ed. Linda Seidel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 3–33. 70 Such as the image of St. John the Evangelist in the Gospel Book of St.-Médard de Soissons of ca. 800, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. lat. 8850, fol. 180v, reproduced in George Zarnecki, Art of the Medieval World. Architecture. Sculpture. Painting. The Sacred Arts (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1975), colour plate 18.

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images of portals resting on crouching or kneeling animals proliferated, marking the beginning of a new artistic trend (see Figure 34).71

Figure 34: Modena, Cathedral, 1099–1184: West facade portal

North Italian influence on German Romanesque architecture resulted from constant communication between the two cultural realms. It included, inter alia, the predominance of decorated portals composed of recessed arches in the external walls of Romanesque churches.72 It was typical for each column to bear a different decoration, frequently comprising foliage scrolls, repetitive geometric patterns, hybrids, human figures, or even complex iconographic compositions. Such are 71 As demonstrated, for example, by the main portal of the west facade of the cathedral of Modena, begun in 1099, where lions standing on rectangular bases support the columns. See Hearn, Romanesque Sculpture, 95, fig. 67. See also the west portal of the Verona Cathedral, of ca. 1138, with a similar setting, op. cit., 159, fig. 117. See also Toman, Romanesque, 87. 72 As in the western portal of the Prämonstratenser-Klosterkirche St. Maria in Windberg, of ca. 1200, reproduced in Hubert Glaser, ed., Wittelsbach und Bayern. Um Glauben und Reich Kurfürst Maximilian I (Ausstellungskatalog) Bd. I/1: Die Zeit der frühen Herzöge. Von Otto I. zu Ludwig dem Bayer. Beiträge zur Bayerischen Geschichte und Kunst 1180–1350 (Munich: Hirmer / Munich: R. Piper & Co., 1980), panel 33, no. 67.

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the portals of the 1136 Augustinian St. Zeno Monastery in Bad Reichenhall (Upper Bavaria), particularly in the western portal built around 1230.73 The western portal of the former Augustinian collegiate church of St. Castulus in Moosbach, of ca. 1200,74 or the cloister columns in the former Benedictine abbey church of St. Peter and Paul in Königslutter, constructed between 1135 and the late twelfth century,75 further demonstrate this artistic phenomenon (see Figure 35). Some of these architectural settings included portal jambs that rested not on plain bases but on sculpted animals and beasts.

Figure 35: Königslutter, former Benedictine abbey church of St. Peter and Paul, 1135–late 12c: Lion portal (north)

The scarcity in Ashkenaz of surviving Romanesque synagogues and the paucity of information concerning their construction leave open the question whether, 73 Shown op. cit., panel 32, no. 65. 74 Op. cit., panel 33, no. 66. 75 Toman, Romanesque, 63. See also the “Lion Portal” in Martin Gosebruch and Thomas Gädeke, Königslutter – Die Abtei Kaiser Lothars (Die Blauen Bücher) (Königstein im Taunus: Karl Robert Langewiesche Nachfolger, 1998), 19, 60, 61.

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and to what extent, their portals followed the artistic trend of sculpted humanoid or anthropomorphic decorations.76 Occasional references and famous responsa discussing the introduction of art into synagogue windows and murals, suggest the prevalence of such adornments in the visual vocabulary of illuminated prayer books and architectural decorations as well.77 Rabbinical sources leave little doubt that medieval synagogues in Germany featured wall paintings  – probably also stone carvings.78 Their adornments included foliage and floral decorations,79 as well as zoomorphic motifs. Some synagogues may have followed contemporary Romanesque and Gothic trends of including fauna or human images in their decorative vocabulary, as often the architects and builders of these edifices were non-Jews who offered their skills to both communities.80 Apparently, they would have met very little or no opposition on the part of the Jewish community leaders. While architectural evidence to corroborate this assumption is scarce, such motifs do abound in Hebrew illuminated manuscripts of the period, a fact that may be representative also of other art forms in its openness to figurative art. Although religious authorities were not of one mind concerning the inclusion of figurative art in synagogues or prayer 76 Romanesque synagogue portals and their decorations are the theme of Ilia Rodov, “The Development of Medieval and Renaissance Sculptural Decoration in Ashkenazi Synagogues from Worms to the Krakow Area,” PhD diss. (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2003). 77 A vivid discourse is documented in medieval Jewish responsa on the permissibility of decorating synagogues with stained glass windows, which have most probably been influenced by the contemporary fashion of incorporating such windows replete with figurative art in Romanesque and later Gothic churches. Some examples regarding stained glass windows and illustrations in manuscripts of prayer books, such as the responsa of R. Eliakim b. Joseph of Mainz, R. Isaac b. Moses of Vienna ca. 1200, and R. Meir of Rothenburg, have been translated into English and published by Vivian B. Mann, ed., Jewish Texts on the Visual Arts (rabbinic texts translated by Eliezer Diamond) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 74–75, 75–76, and 109–111, respectively. 78 The reliability of responsa literature as a mirror to historical reality has been dealt with extensively. The question has been raised at length by Haym Soloveitchik. “Can Halakhic Texts Talk History?” AJS Review 3 (1978): 153–196. See also Monika Saelemaekers, “Can Halakhic Texts Talk History? The Example of ʻSefer Or Zaruaʼ” (Ms. Ros. 3, CA. 1300 CE).” Zutot; Perspectives on Jewish Culture 6, 1 (2009): 17–23 For a general discussion, see Mordechai Breuer, “Die Responsenliteratur als Geschichtsquelle,” in Geschichte und Kultur der Juden in Bayern: Aufsätze, ed. Manfred Treml and Josef Kirmeier (Veröffentlichungen zur Bayerischen Geschichte und Kultur, ed. Claus Grimm, No. 17/88) (Munich: K. G. Saur, 1988), 29–37. 79 Rashi, in his commentary on I Kgs 7:18, refers to the capitals of Yakhin and Bo'az, explicitly stating that “they were painted with flowers like lilies, like the paintings on the walls of the halls,” probably alluding to the halls in synagogues that he knew from his immediate surroundings. 80 Although, surely the rabbi and the community leadership had more than a say in determining the decorative scheme in the edifice.

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books, the very fact that the issue was the object of a debate indicates its existence, with or without rabbinic approval.81 Rabbinic responsa are very rarely theoretical or hypothetical, but rather casuistic, usually representing an acute dilemma or at least an observed reality. Consequently, the fact that the rabbis had to contend with such matters is as important for our discussion as are their deliberations on the issue. The artistic representation of snakes and lions is explicitly mentioned by R. Eliakim b. Joseph of Mainz (born ca. 1170), while R. Meir of Rothenburg (a.k.a. Maharam, ca. 1215–1293) refers to that of “animals and birds,” to mention but two examples.82 We may therefore conclude that figurative releifs or sculptures, including various animals or hybrids—perhaps also human figures—were part of the decorative schemes of synagogue portals, column capitals and other spaces within and without the synagogue. They may have adorned the niche of the stone-carved or wooden Torah ark as well or incorporated in the decorations of a bimah.83 Jewish scriptural sources are replete with references to animals of all sorts; elephants, however, are very rarely mentioned.84 Jewish popular lore alludes to them as harbingers of miracles due to their peculiarity.85 M. Berakhot 56:2 states 81 See, for example, the question posed by R. Yo’el haLevi to R. Ephraim of Regensburg (d. ca. 1175), in the Responsa of R. Meir b. Barukh, brought in English translation by Mann, Jewish Texts, 110–111. 82 See citation translated into English, provided by Vivian B. Mann, “Art and Spirituality through the Rabbi’s Eyes,” in Art and Ceremony in Jewish Life. Essays in the History of Jewish Art, ed. idem (London: Pindar Press, 2005), 5. 83 Some fragmentary examples of animals in relief and in the round were uncovered in recent years in the excavations of the Jewish quarter of Cologne. They were probably part of the embellishments of the stone bimah, according to Sven Schütte, ed., Von der Ausgrabungen zum Museum – Kölner Archäologie zwischen Rathaus und Praetorium (Cologne: Stadt Köln, Archäologische Zone / Jüdisches Museum [2. Erweiterte und verbesserte Auflage], 2012), 141 and photos on 138, figs. 192–194, 197. For the discussion on the permissibility of inclusion of depictions of a lion and a serpant in the Cologne synagogue comes from a letter penned by Rabbi Eliakim b. Joseph of Mainz (1070−1152), see Ephraim Shoham-Steiner, “The Clash over Synagogue Decorations in Medieval Cologne,” Jewish History 30, no. 3−4 (2016): 129−164. Visual evidence – though fragmentary – of sculpted animals and dragons in medieval Ashkenazi synagogues is analyzed and discussed by Ilia Rodov, “Dragons: A Symbol of Evil in European Synagogue Decoration?” Ars Judaica 1 (2005): 63−84. 84 A survey of works on the iconography of animals in Judaism can be found in Marc Michael Epstein, “‘If Lions Could Carve Stones . . ..’ Medieval Jewry and the Allegorization of the Animal Kingdom. A Textual and Iconographic Study,” PhD diss., (Yale University, New Haven, CT, 1992) 39–46. For a specific discussion on the elephant, see 146–242. 85 One particular elephant was elevated to remembrance in Jewish lore already early on. Its existence and shortcomings are found in I Macc 6:43–46, retelling the Hasmonean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire in Judea and the Syrian attack in the battle of Beit Zekharyah in 163 BCE.

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that “If one sees an elephant in a dream, miracles will happen to him; if several elephants—miracles upon miracles.”86 The thirteenth-century exegete Berakhia b. Natronai haNaqdan further elaborates in his book of fables, Mishlei Shu'alim (Heb. “Fox Fables”): “The elephant is the most wondrous of creatures in shape, in height, in appearance.”87 This may have been the reason that the Talmud mentions the elephant as one of the creatures requiring a special benediction when encountering it: “Our Rabbis taught: upon seeing an elephant, an ape, or a longtailed ape, one says: ‛Blessed is He who makes strange creatures . . .’”88 Despite the curiosity that the elephant may have aroused, it was only sporadically included in the visual repertory of Jewish iconography. One such rare example is found in the floor mosaic of the synagogue of Khirbet Ma'on (currently in Kibbutz Nirim, Israel),89 dating to the sixth century.90 In this and other examHoping to give the battle a dramatic turn, the fourth and youngest of the Hasmonean brothers, Ele'azar, son of Mattathias Maccabeus, broke through the Syrian ranks to reach an elephant on which he thought the enemy king Antiochus IV was riding. Thrusting his spear into its belly, he killed the beast, which ultimately fell on its killer and crushed him to death. 86 Other sages expressed different opinions, See, for example, R. Menahem haMe’iri (1249–1316) in his commentary on M. Berakhot 52:8; or Melekhet Shlomo on M Kil’aim 8:6. 87 Berakhia b. Natronai haNaqdan, Mishlei Shu'alim (Berlin: E. Reiss, 1921), Fable 107 (Hebrew). The work is largely founded on Aesop’s Fables and was meant to teach Jewish ethics by insertions of biblical materials. Much discussion has taken place concerning the date and native country of this writer, commonly placing him about 1260 in Provence. 88 BT Berakhot 58b. In an entirely different cultural realm from that of the German Nuremberg Miscellany, the artist of the Cervera Bible, completed in Cervera and Tudela (Castile) in 1299–1300, included an illustration of a stylised elephant harnessed with a battlement in the form of a triple-turreted city gate. Closely following the Talmudic injunction, the illustration accompanies the blessing “Him who made strange creatures.” The manuscript is found in Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Ms. II. 72, and the relevant illustration is on fol. 112v. See detail in Thérèse and Mendel Metzger, Jewish Life in the Middle Ages. Illuminated Hebrew Manuscripts of the Thirteenth to the Sixteenth Centuries (New York: Alpine Fine Arts Collection, 1982), 29, fig. 37. 89 A comprehensive study of the synagogue of Nirim-Ma'on was written by David Amit, “The Synagogues of Hurbat Ma'on and Hurbat 'Anim and the Jewish Settlement in Southern Hebron Hills,” PhD diss., (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2003) (Hebrew). For a drawing of the floor mosaic, see A. Kloner, “Ancient Synagogues in Israel: An Archeological Survey, in Ancient Synagogues Revealed, ed. Lee I. Levine (Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, 1981), 17. For a detail of the mosaic showing the elephant, see “Maon Synagogue”, http://www.israelandyou. com/maon-synagogue/ (accessed January 8, 2020). 90 A comparative contemporary pattern in the Christian world is found in the Byzantine socalled “Bird Mosaic” from a private villa or church in Caesarea dating to the late sixth or early seventh century. See Rachel Hachlili, Ancient Mosaic Pavements. Themes, Issues, and Trends (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 296, and in other locations in the Byzantine Mediterranean. On animal imagery in Eretz Israel in the Roman period, see Arlene Fradkin, “Animal Figures in the Basilical

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ples from later periods, mainly in Eretz Israel, images of elephants are part of the complex iconographic scheme of mosaic floors with an inhabited scroll carpet scheme.91 Those, however, are of little help in explaining the role of the elephants in the Nuremberg Miscellany.92 Its artist must have drawn from a later visual vernacular quite different from any of these patterns, given the particular context and the text-image relationship of fol. 1v of the manuscript, and perhaps also due to the symmetric pairing of the two elephants as architectural supports.93 The Romanesque fondness of bestiaries and animal-related themes,94 and even more so the Gothic encyclopedic notion that propagated manifestation of natural, fantastic, or composite creatures in various contexts, offered a fresh approach to incorporating animal imagery into every type of work of art.95 The

Building Mosaics at Roman Sepphoris, Lower Galilee, Israel,” Near Eastern Archeology 62, no. 4 (1999): 233–239. 91 Such as the mosaic from the Brindisi Cathedral, dated 1178, described by Nancy Rash-Fabbri, “A Drawing in the Bibliothèque Nationale and the Romanesque Mosaic Floor in Brindisi,” Gesta 13, no. 1 (1974): 5–14. 92 Some later examples are in the painted eighteenth-century wooden synagogues from Eastern Europe such as in Gwoździec, Chodorów and others. See David Davidovitch, Wall Paintings of Synagogues in Poland (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1968), fig. 11 (Gwoździec) and figs. 15–16 (Chodorów) (Hebrew). A similar motif appears in the wall paintings of the synagogue in Mohilevon-the-Dnieper. On the synagogue and its decorations, see E. L. [Eliezer Lissitzki], “The Synagogue of Mohilev,” Rimon 3 (1923): 9–12 (Hebrew). 93 An interesting discussion on the relationship between the so-called “Christian iconographic source” and its borrowed application in Jewish art is provided by Epstein, “If Lions Could Carve Stones,” 48–62. 94 See the examples brought by Rash-Fabbri, “A Drawing in the Bibliothèque Nationale,” but mainly Schapiro, Romanesque Architectural Sculpture, especially 185–209. On Matthew Paris’s drawing of an elephant, see Charles Avery, “Drawing England’s First Elephant. Matthew Paris’s Depictions of a Royal Favourite Were a Landmark in English Art,” Country Life 199, no. 3 (2005): 64–65. The illustration appears in Paris’s Chronica maiora, Part II, in Parker (CO), Parker Library, MS 16, fol. 151v. 95 Using animal imagery afforded an easy medium of expressing or symbolising a virtue or a vice because of the increasing interest in the nature of animals on the part of the medieval designers. Pluskowski, “Narwhals or Unicorns?” discusses the types of exotic animals documented in medieval Europe and their popularity. Of the studies on bestiaries in medieval culture, see mainly Debra Hassig, “Beauty in the Beasts: A Study of Medieval Aesthetics,” Anthropology and Aesthetics 19, no. 20 (1990–1991): 137–161; Grover Cronin, “The Bestiary and the Medieval Mind – Some Complexities,” Modern Language Quarterly 2, no. 2 (1941): 191–198; Arnold Clayton Henderson, “Medieval Beasts and Modern Cages: The Making of Meaning in Fables and Bestiaries,” Proceedings of the Modern Language Association 97, no. 1 (1982): 40–49; Franciscus Nicolaas Maria Diekstra, “The Physiologus, the Bestiaries and Medieval Animal Lore,” Neophilologus 69, no. 1 (1985): 142–155.

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new literary and artistic interest in bestiaries eventually expanded iconographically all over Europe. Jewish artists were equally engrossed in the novel usage of animal forms and introduced them into their visual vocabulary.96 One of its manifestations was the iconography of the portal supported by animals, which, in turn, was adapted and appropriated by Jewish artists from common Christian imagery and incorporated in decorative schemes of illuminated manuscripts. War elephants, complete with howdahs or seats for riding them in the shape of battlemented turrets as iconographic elements of column supports, were by no means a natural choice for the Jewish artist in Southern Germany working on the Nuremberg Miscellany in the late sixteenth century. Nonetheless, by enclosing the homiletic-moralistic treatise on fol. 1v in a portal resting on two animal caryatids he did follow an established tradition in medieval Ashkenazi Hebrew manuscripts. This conventional type of portal in Hebrew manuscripts served as an enclosure for initial words, beginnings of liturgical units in prayer books and maḥzorim, or for beginnings of books of the Bible. One such early example is the Worms Maḥzor from the Middle Rhine area, dated to 1272 (see Figure 36).97 An earlier depiction of a similar motif, the Amsterdam Maḥzor of ca. 1250, probably from Cologne, shows a quadruped with an excessively long nose, presumably meant to represent an elephant with its trunk.98 Although lions of many forms seem to have been the preferred animal for such supports, other animals were also portrayed. The oxen at the left foot of the

96 On the interest of Jews – mainly Ḥasidai Ashkenaz, a group of Medieval German pietists – in bestiaries, see David I. Shyovitz, “Beauty and the Bestiary. Animals, Wonder, and Polemic in Medieval Ashkenaz,” in: Jonathan Adams and Jussi Hanska, eds., The Jewish-Christian Encounter in Medieval Preaching (London: Routledge, 2015), 215–223. 97 Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS. HEB. 40 781/I, fol. 1v. The arch above the initial words ‫ ֵאל ִמ ְתנַ ֵּׂשא‬is borne on a lion courant on the right-hand side, while on the left side it rests on a chequered rectangular base. In that same maḥzor, the initial word and the text of the piyyuṭ ‫( אֹור יֶ ַשע ְמ ֻא ָש ִרים‬Or Yesha' Me’usharim) are enclosed in an arch supported by two crouching lions. See Bezalel Narkiss and Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, “Comparative Illustrations”, in Worms Mahzor, MS. Jewish National and University Library Heb 4° 781/1; Introductory Volume, ed. Malachi BeitArié (Vaduz: Jewish National and University Library, 1985), figs. 1 and 7, respectively. See also Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, “Later Additions to the Worms Mahzor,” ibid., 94–96. Further examples are provided by Gabrielle Sed-Rajna, Le Mahzor enluminé. Les voies de formation d’un programme iconographique (Leiden: Brill, 1983), pl. V, figs. 9–10, pl. XVI, fig. 31, and more. 98 Amsterdam, Jewish Historical Museum, and MiQua, LVR-Jewish Museum in the Archaeological Quarter Cologne, M014777, fol. 52r, reproduced in Sed-Rajna, Die jüdische Kunst, 455, fig. 419.

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Figure 36: Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 1v [Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS. HEB. 40 781/I]

arch enclosing the piyyuṭ entitled ‫( ָאדֹון ִא ְּמנַ נִ י‬Adon Imnani) in the south German Laud Maḥzor of around 1290 are one such example (see Figure 37).99 Following the prevailing architectural vogue, the artists of contemporary Ashkenazi manuscripts used for their supports lions in various postures,100 dragons,101 oxen with lions,102 and other combinations of animals103 including elephants.104 The

99 Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Laud Or. 321, fol. 127v, reproduced loc. cit., fig. 10. See also figs. 16 and 30. 100 As, for example, in the Worms Maḥzor, in Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, ms. Heb. 40 781/II, fol. 73r. Another example is found in the Wrocław Maḥzor, Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka we Wrocławiu, Cod. Or. I/1, fol. 221v, both reproduced in Sed-Rajna, Mahzor enluminé, pl. V, figs. 9–10, respectively. Other images from the same cultural realm are shown in pl. XVI, figs. 31–32, Pl. XIX, fig. 37, pl. XX, fig. 39, and pl. XXVII, fig. 53. 101 Such as in the Dresden Maḥzor, Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek, ms. A 46a, fol. 202v, op. cit., pl. xxi, fig. 40. 102 As in the Laud Maḥzor, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Laud Or. 321, fol. 127v, op. cit., pl. XX, fig. 39. 103 See the micrographic page showing Aaron dressing the lamp in a Pentateuch from Germany, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. Hébr. 5, fol. 11v reproduced in Beit Arié, “Hebrew Manuscripts Are Made,” 53; https://portail.biblissima.fr/fr/ark:/43093/ifdata2ff03109a2ac5ec63eaa0303ce9ba4ff16303770 (accessed February 3, 2021) 104 A variety of animals support the columns in the thirteenth-century Hebrew Bible, now in Paris, Biliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. Hébr. 4, fol. 5r. See Philippe Verdier, Le Couronnement de la Vierge: Les origines et les premiers développements d’un thème iconographique (Paris:

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Figure 37: Laud Maḥzor, Southern Germany, ca. 1290, fol. 127v [Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Laud Or. 321]

latter are sometimes harnessed or carrying turrets or howdahs on their backs.105 The Worms Maḥzor contains elephants that, as in the Laud Maḥzor, flank the initial words of Adon Imnani.106 A single elephant bearing a hybrid combination of a howdah and a coronet forms part of the iconography of the initial word panel for the piyyuṭ entitled Az beYom Kippur (‫)אז ְביֹום ִכּפּור‬ ָ in the Tripartite Maḥzor from Southern 107 Germany (ca. 1320). The iconographic rendering of this elephant is strongly reminiscent of the depiction at the centre of the six-pointed star at the bottom of the initial word panel for Deuteronomy in the Duke of Sussex Pentateuch, also from Southern Germany, created about twenty years earlier.108 Two title page gates in the Darmstadt

J. Vrin, 1980), 1; S. Zeitlin, “The Origin of the Term Edom for Rome and the Roman Church,” Jewish Quarterly Review 60, no. 3 (1970): 262–263. 105 In the same manuscript, fol. 73v, op. cit., pl. XVI, fig. 32. 106 The Worms Maḥzor, Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS. HEB. 40781/I, fol. 111r, portraying one elephant as the right caryatid, while the other support is gravely damaged. See image in Epstein, Dreams of Subversion, colour plate VII. 107 Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Ms. Michael 619, fol. 130r, reproduced in Gold, Sign and Witness, 158. 108 London, The British Library, Add. MS 15282, fol. 238r, reproduced in David Goldstein, Hebrew Manuscript Painting (London: The British Library, 1985), 16.

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Hammelburg Maḥzor present supports in the shape of elephants at the base of the columns, to mention one further example (see Figure 38).109

Figure 38: Darmstadt Hammelburg Maḥzor, Southern Germany, 1348, fol. 73v [Darmstadt, Hessische Landes-und Hochschulbibliothek, Cod. Or. 13]

The fact that elephants were part of a visual vocabulary used by earlier illuminators of Hebrew manuscripts could explain their inclusion in the Nuremberg Miscellany. Moreover, a few decades before the Miscellany was inscribed and illustrated, the Christian Venetian printer Zorzo (or Giorgio) di Cavalli used three different printer’s devices for the Hebrew books he printed in 1565–1568, all featuring an elephant bearing a battlement on its back.110 Cavalli printed a number

109 Darmstadt Hammelburg Maḥzor, Darmstadt, Hessische Landes- und Hochschulbibliothek, Cod. Or. 13, fols. 73v and 126r, in Sed-Rajna, Mahzor enluminé, pl. XVI, fig. 32 and pl. XIX, fig. 37, respectively. 110 See Yaari, Diglei haMadpisim, 20–21, figs. 32–34 (Hebrew). On Cavalli, see David Werner Amram, The Makers of Hebrew Books in Italy Being Chapters in the History of the Hebrew Printing Press (Philadelphia: Julius H. Greenstone, 1909), 346–349. The author, on 349, suggests that Cavalli’s printer’s mark, which includes the motto “tarde sed tuto” (slowly but surely) is meant to symbolise the changes that were taking place in his time in the transition between the Middle Ages and the enlightenment of the Renaissance.

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of Hebrew books that could have been known to the artist of the Nurermberg Miscellany, among them Ṭur Even ha'Ezer (1565), Midrash Rabbah (1566), Kol Bo, the second edition of Joseph Qaro’s Shulḥan 'Arukh,111 (1567), and a maḥzor according to the German rite (1567) (see Figure 39).112

Figure 39: Maḥzor according to the German rite, Venice: Zorzo (Giorgio) di Cavalli, 1567, vol. 2, fol. 1r [Zurich, Braginsky Collection, BB 68 (Photography by Ardon Bar-Hama, Ra'anana, Israel)]

The Nuremberg Miscellany refers explicitly or implicitly in its text to some of these literary works. This may be an indication that the compiler, the artist, or the 111 The Shulḥan 'Arukh, is one of the major foundation codes of Jewish law. On the influence of the “Sephardi” oeuvre, the Shulḥan 'Arukh, in Ashkenaz, see Joseph Davis, “The Reception of the Shulhan 'Arukh and the Formation of Ashkenazic Jewish Identity,” AJS Review 26, no. 2 (2002): 251–276. 112 See Menachem Schmelzer and Emile G. L. Schrijver, “Catalogue Numbers 1–56,” in A Journey through Jewish Worlds. Highlights from the Braginsky Collection of Hebrew Manuscripts and Printed Books, ed. Evelyn Cohen, Sharon Liberman Mintz, and Emile G. L. Schrijver (Amsterdam: Bijzondere Collecties, Universiteit van Amsterdam, 2009), cat. nos. 88–89. For the full list of Hebrew books issued in Cavalli’s press, see Amram, Hebrew Books, 346.

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patron of the manuscript was in possession of, or at least had access to, one or more of those printed books and was familiar with Cavalli’s printer’s mark, which may have inspired him in the composition on fol. 1v. Clearly, the artist of the manuscript included the image of the elephant following the conventional medieval iconographic vocabulary. His particular choice of the war elephant, however, is unusual. He most probably did not derive his inspiration from the typical animal collections found in bestiaries in Early Modern Germany.113 Furthermore, looking at the history of zoological collections in Europe,114 elephants were among the less popular animals in the Middle Ages,115 yet they were occasionally portrayed in popular objects such as playing cards.116 Yet whimsical display-objects, such as clocks or fountains (also known as fontaines d’apparat),117 set as table decorations by members of the royalty and 113 Along with other exotic non-indigenous animals in the local landscape, the elephant was first introduced to Europe by the Romans at the end of the Punic Wars. These were still used in combat at the Battle of Thapsus, 46 BCE, where Julius Caesar armed his fifth legion (Alaudae) with axes and commanded his legionnaires to strike at the elephants’ legs. The legion withstood the charge, and the elephant became its symbol. According to Edward Payson Evans, Animal Symbolism in Ecclesiastical Architecture (New York: Henry Holt, 1896), 23, “The Romans brought beasts from the remotest provinces of the empire, not because they felt any rational or scientific interest in them, but solely in order to increase the pomp and splendour of military triumphs, or to minister to the barbarous and bloody sports of the amphitheatre.” Later on in history, an elephant was presented to Charlemagne as a curiosity gift by the Abbasid caliph of Baghdad, Harun al-Rashid, in 797 or 801. Charlemagne then took his elephant, which he named AbulAbbas, when he went to fight the Danes in 804, probably in order to terrify his enemy with the beast rather than to engage it in warfare. The animal’s death in 810 is recorded in the Annals of the Kings of France. In the Middle Ages, live elephants were seldom found in Europe. One famous specimen was captured by the Roman Emperor Frederick II (1194–1250) in the Holy Land during the Crusades. He then had it brought to the battlefield of Cremona in 1214 as a symbolic token. See also Ruth Gay, The Jews of Germany: A Historical Portrait (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992), 5. 114 Vernon N. Kisling Jr., “Ancient Collections and Menageries,” in Zoo and Aquarium History: Ancient Animal Collections to Zoological Gardens, ed. idem (London: CRC Press, 2001), 28. 115 Elephant tusks, though, along with similar luxury materials, were imported to Europe in relatively great numbers, mainly for artistic purposes. It is for this reason that “the majority of exotica leaving material traces [in Europe] are represented by horns and tusks in one form or another,” as per Pluskowski, “Narwhals or Unicorns?” 293. 116 See the card “eight-of-acorns” included in a pack designed by Hans Erb and printed in Nuremberg in 1555, in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. GNM Sp. 5714–5761. Cf. Hoffmann, Spielkarten, 196. 117 See, for example, the clock in the form of an elephant, made in 1580–1590 by Nikolaus Schmidt the elder in Augsburg, ca. 1580/90, now in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. 77/276. The clock unit is conceived as the howdah, resting on the elephant’s back.

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bourgeoisie as status symbols, and meant to entertain, impress, and dazzle the guests at the table, were produced in Europe in general and in Germany in particular in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period.118 Some have the shape of elephants. One such early piece of cast bronze is the product of Magdeburg in the mid-twelfth century.119 Contemporaneous with the Nuremberg Miscellany is a magnificent centrepiece, a table-fountain in the form of an elephant made for display in official banquets held by a member of the social elite. It was manufactured by Christoph Jamnitzer around 1610 and is currently in the Kunstgewerbemuseum in Berlin.120 A similar object, formed like a war-elephant mounted with a battlemented turret in which soldiers are shown in combat, was made by Wolff Christof Ritter in Nuremberg around 1630–1640 (see Figure 40).121 One must bear in mind that images in general, and animal and hybrid portrayals in particular, often have no iconographic significance, and are rather “a process of free creation”, as Meyer Schapiro puts it with regard to hybrid images in Romanesque sculpture.122 They may simply reflect the personal preference of the artist or patron, possibly influenced by model books.123 Since the late Gothic period, the elephant, virtually non-existent in Europe, attracted general curiosity and entered European iconography. In the process of its addition to the prevailing visual vocabulary, this exotic animal species inspired multiple emblematic meanings, mainly as a symbol of triumph, strength, and cleverness. Because of these virtues, the elephant also became a symbol of the ruler.124 118 A magnificent silver-gilt fountain of suggested French origin decorated with enamel is described by William M. Milliken, “A Table Fountain of the Fourteenth Century,” The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 12, no. 3 (1925): 36–39. 119 Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg, Inv. No. KG227, reproduced in Großmann et al., Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 38. 120 The silver fountain, 43 cm high, depicts Hannibal’s war elephant in the battle of Zama. See Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, Farbbild 15. See also Arno Schönberger and Wolfgang Scheffler. Ausgewählte Werke. Stiftung Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Staatliche Museen, Kunstgewerbemuseum Schloß Charlottenburg (Kataloge des Kunstgewerbemuseums Berlin Bd. 1) (Berlin: Brüder Hartmann, 1963), no. 102. 121 Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Inv. No. R B K 1985–45, formerly in the collection of Karl Mayer von Rothschild. See Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, Cat. No. 124, 279–280. See also the “Elefant mit Kriegsturm als Trinkgefäss,” crafted by Urban Wolff in 1593–1598, currently in Dresden, Grünes Gewölbe. It is reproduced in Tebbe and Schürer, Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst, Bd. I: Meister, Werke, Marken, Teil I: panel no. 187, 770. 122 Schapiro, Romanesque Architectural Sculpture, 188. 123 This view is expressed, for example, by Fradkin, “Animal Figures,” 237–238. 124 As exemplified by the image in the Latin Speculum humanae salvationis, copied and illustrated in Hainaut (Belgium) in 1462, housed in Lyon, Bibliothèque Municipale, Ms 245, fol. 144r. On the manuscript, see Carole Brac de La Perrière, “Étude iconographique du Speculum Hu-

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Figure 40: Wolff Christof Ritter, Jug in the shape of a war elephant, Nuremberg, ca. 1615 [Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Inv. No. R B K 1985–45]

These assumptions notwithstanding, the artist’s inclusion of elephant supports for the arch on fol. 1v of the Nuremberg Miscellany appears to foster a premeditated, educational message founded on inherent Jewish lore. As evidenced in many other instances throughout the manuscript, he was proficient in the Jewish iconographic vocabulary thanks to his in-depth knowledge of Jewish texts, culture, and tradition. In this particular case, he must have contemplated the exegetical symbolism of the elephant in two medieval texts representing a Jewish bestiary tradition. Both texts expound on the role of each animal in the universe. The one is Pereq Shirah, of anonymous authorship and no firmly attributed date.125 It is an ancient poetic composition in which eighty-four elements of the

manae Salvationis, ms. 245 conservé à la Bibliothèque Municipale de Lyon,” PhD diss., (Université Lyon 2, 2003). 125 Chap. 5. The best study of the oeuvre to-date is by Malachi Beit-Arié, “Pereḳ Shirah: Mevoʾot u-mahadurah biḳortit (Perek Shira, Introductions and Critical Edition),” PhD diss., (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 5727 [1967]) (Hebrew).

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 109

natural world are praising God, including representatives of all living creatures. With all the animals offering adoration to the Creator, each in a verse from the Bible, the elephant recites the verse from Psalm 92:5, “How great are your works, Lord, how profound your thoughts!” Oẓar haMidrashim, a midrashic compilation of various sources from different periods, follows the same tradition and ascribes to the elephant the recital of the very same biblical verse.126 Relying on his memory and on the sequence of the text he had just read in the preceding page, the analogy between one’s models for piety and worship of God and animal behaviour, mentioned in M. Avot, must have echoed in the mind of the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Moreover, two of the four animals mentioned there by Judah b. Teima—the hart and the lion—are actually referred to in the very same chapter of Pereq Shirah in which the elephant appears. The hart, in fact, immediately precedes the elephant in its words of praise, while the lion follows it, so that the two are virtually flanking it verbally. The eagle, mentioned in the Mishnah as part of the same dictum, is also present in that same work, albeit in the chapter dedicated to the avians.127 Additionally, according to Marc Michael Epstein, the elephant serves as the symbol of the Torah in medieval Hebrew literature.128 From that perspective, it would seem that the arch with its elephant-base columns and the text inscribed between them are one and the same. Continuing the discourse based on M. Avot 5:23, which he had begun inscribing on the initial page of the manuscript, the scribe then quotes from the second Mishnah of the first chapter: “Simeon the Righteous was of the last survivors of the Great Assembly. He used to say, ‘the universe is sustained by three things; by the Torah, by the [Temple] service, and by deeds of loving kindness.’”129 When read verbatim, this passage regards the Torah as one of the three supports that carry the world. By portraying the two elephants as sustaining the respective columns depicted on fol. 1v, the artist is equating the Torah with the elephant, while duplicating the image and the allegory for the sake of a balanced composition.130

126 Oẓar haMidrashim, Shira §525, ‫שיר לבהמות וחיות‬. 127 Chap. 4. 128 The elephant motif in Jewish art has been studied by Marc Michael Epstein, “The Elephant and the Law: The Medieval Jewish Minority Adapts a Christian Motif,” The Art Bulletin 76, no. 3 (1994): 465–478. The textual sources Epstein is using to substantiate his theory are referred to on 469–470. The article was included in his book Dreams of Subversion, 39–69. 129 M Avot 1:2. 130 Pirqei Avot (Lit. “Chapters of Avot”) are traditionally recited during the afternoon service on Shabbat. See above, 69, n. 6.

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Another allusion to the Torah on fol. 1v includes two heraldic devices shaped like insignia that remained bare, and show the parchment background on top of the arch at either side. They flank a studded coronet set between them like a finial.131 The interpretation of the unadorned crests does not seem to carry any particular iconographic reading. The coronet, however, presumably symbolises the “Crown of the Torah,” which is reminiscent of a passage from M. Avot: “R. Simeon said, there are three crowns: the crown of [the study of] the Law, the crown of priesthood and the crown of royalty.”132 If this iconographic interpretation is correct, the insignia on fol. 1v may indicate, in absentia, priesthood (or clergy) and royalty (or nobility), and would have contained coats of arms that would have probably been carried over from the colloquial, non-Jewish vocabulary. Had they indeed borne clerical and royal coats of arms, the crests would have complemented the third component in the quote, namely that of the Torah. The coronet, therefore, is an allegory that intensifies the symbolism of the elephants and the moralistic message of the page.133 On top of the column to the right, one sees a human profile. Its role is unclear, but it may be a representation of Judah b. Teima or Simeon the Righteous, one of the sages quoted in the text or implied in the illustrations. This could also represent the patron who commissioned the manuscript. Alternatively, it may denote an archetypal pious man “upon whom the world rests”—the subject matter of this and the ensuing pages of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Folios 1v-2v contain a description of the order in which the various elements were created and the interdependence of the elements of the universe. It is an elaborated paraphrase based on R. Jose’s delineation of the constituents of the cosmos as discussed in the Talmud.134 The compiler of the Miscellany seems to have been familiar also with another version of that same tradition recorded later, with slight variations, in Midrash Tehillim.135 Ignoring the biblical description of the Creation from Genesis may either indicate a deliberate departure from texts that lay in front of him, or that he wrote his text from memory, thereby omitting 131 In this work, a clear formal-terminological distinction is made between a crown, closed at the top, and an open coronet that circumscribes the head but is left open atop. This is not to say, though, that the iconographic interpretation is necessarily different. Quite the contrary, both types of headgear are usually to be read as interchangeable depictions with the same meaning. 132 M. Avot 4:13. 133 For the broad range of symbols associated with the general, non-Jewish iconography of the crown in the relevant period, see Edwin Hall and Horst Uhr, “Aureola super Auream: Crowns and Related Symbols of Special Distinction for Saints in Late Gothic and Renaissance Iconography,” The Art Bulletin 67, no. 4 (1985): 567–603. 134 BT Hagigah 12b. See quotation of the relevant passage below, 112. 135 The text is reminiscent of Midrash Tehillim (Buber), hymn 136, s.v. ‫]ה[תניא ר’ יוסי‬, repeated three times: in the commentaries to Amos §543, Ps §883, and Job §94.

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 111

the biblical quotations that support his study of the Creation. He focuses on the central theme of the discourse—the number of foundations of the universe. On fol. 2r, towards the end of the treatise on the Creation, he quotes the tradition that the world rests on one pillar alone, which he identifies as the ẓaddiq, “the righteous one.” The human figure portrayed in profile on top of the right pillar on fol. 1v may thus be that of the ẓaddiq. One could argue, of course, that placing him as the basis of the pillar, literally as a foundation, would have been more in line with the actual wording of the midrashic message. Had the artist done so, however, an elephant supporting the one column and a human supporting the other would have upset the symmetrical balance of the page. Deeming the opening on folios 1v and 2r as one decorative unit, the similarity of the compositional scheme of the two pages of the spread is obvious. However, while the general design of fol. 2r corresponds to that of fol. 1v, the presence of the elephant figures as pillar supports disturbs the balance of the spread. Perhaps the artist did not plan to evenly counterpart the pages. It is also possible that the elephants were addendum, or maybe he intended to draw other animal figures as supports for the parallel columns on fol. 2r, but for some reason neither was included.

The Archway and the Coronet In the opening pages of the manuscript (fols. 1v through 2v), the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany designed a composition in which two pages constitute one coherent decorative unit. The mise-en-page in these pages includes text enclosed within an archway. Resonating the colour scheme of the first opening, he repeatedly adhered to a thematic of ornamentation dominated by complex motifs running vertically along the two columns that flank the text. In the case of fol. 2r, however, he chose to employ a pattern of alternating leafage and lozenges, albeit creating an asymmetry by changing the colouring scheme of the columns. The artist’s modest artisanship and professional skills are apparent in the divergent number and density of the ornamental elements in each of the columns, where the one on the left is more sparsely ornamented. Conversely, the reason for the asymmetrical composition of fol. 2r may be the artist’s fondness for an artistic “twist.” The double-page opening of folios 1v and 2r, therefore, presents a companion decorative scheme, rather than a corresponding or matching one (see Figure 31). The portal of fol. 2r is freestanding, without a pedestal at the foot of each column. The previous, heavyweight, page is more imposing, with its extra length extending well into the lower margin. Above the columns of fol. 2r are medallions, each containing an intricate Celtic knot. Compared to the decorative structure on fol. 1v these medallions add weight to the composition and somehow balance the

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lack of pedestals on this page and the bare insignia on the opposite page. To add further mass and height to the embellishment of fol. 2r, a fleshy vegetal motif coronet is placed at the apex of the arch as a finial, terminating in an upright gathering of leaves, with birds perched on either side. In the text inscribed within the intercolumnar space, the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany deliberates the configuration of the sky as well as the nature and number of the pillars or foundations sustaining the earth. Quoting a certain “R. Simeon b. E.,”136 he is doubtlessly mistaking him for the mishnaic sage R. Ele'azar b. Shammu'a. He explicitly mentions BT Hagigah, alluding to a teaching by R. Jose, on which R. Ele'azar b. Shammu'a comments: It is taught: R. Jose says: Alas for people that they see but know not what they see, they stand but know not on what they stand. What does the earth rest on? On the pillars, for it is said: “Who shakes the earth out of its place, and the pillars thereof tremble.”137 The pillars [rest] upon the waters, for it is said: “To Him that spread forth the earth above the waters.”138 The waters [rest] upon the mountains, for it is said: “The waters stood above the mountains.”139 The mountains [rest] on the wind, for it is said: “For, lo, He that formed the mountains, and created the wind.”140 The wind [rests] upon the storm, for it is said: “The wind, the storm made its substance.”141 The storm is suspended on the arm of the Holy One, blessed be He, for it is said, “And underneath are the everlasting arms.”142 But the Sages say: [The world] rests on twelve pillars, for it is said: “He set the borders to the peoples according to the number [of the tribes] of the children of Israel.”143 And some say seven pillars, for it is said: “she has hewn out her seven pillars.”144 R. Ele'azar b. Shammu'a says: [The world rests] on one pillar, and its name is Ẓaddiq (= Righteous), for it is said: “But Ẓaddiq is the foundation of the world.”145

This text humanises the pillar that supports the world, explicating that it is a righteous person named ‫( ַצ ִּדיק‬Ẓaddiq) and referring to it as axis mundi.146 Moreover, 136 The scribe was probably depending on his memory while ascribing the authorship of this text to R. Simeon. He may have had in mind the sage by the same name who, according to Yalquṭ Shim'oni, expounded on Abraham’s hospitality, as explained later in this chapter. 137 Job 9:6. 138 Ps 136:6. 139 Ps 104:6. 140 Amos 4:13. 141 Ps 148:8. 142 Deut 33:27. 143 Deut 32:8. 144 Prov 9:1. 145 Prov 10:25. The full text is in BT Hagigah 12b. For a discussion on the idea and its origins, see Moshe Simon-Shoshan, “‘The Heavens Proclaim the Glory of God . . .’: A Study in Rabbinic Cosmology,” BDD–Bekhol Derakhekha Daehu 20 (2008): 93–95. 146 This passage plays a pun on the word/name ẓaddiq, or righteous. See further Arthur Green, “The Zaddiq as Axis Mundi in Later Judaism,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion XLV,

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R. Ele'azar b. Shammu'a offers a reading pertaining not only to the number of supports of the “earth” or the cosmos, but also to the “identity” and nature of this support.147 Just beneath the arch of the portal and above the text-space appears an open coronet. It is similar to the one on fol. 1v, even if not studded with stones. Its position in the layout of the page indicates a possible compositional afterthought, as very little free space remains around it. Nonetheless, the coronet probably serves the purpose of highlighting the intricate correlation between the image and the textual thematic of the entire opening, namely a dissertation on the foundations of the world. This association alludes to a deliberation in the Talmud concerning the apparent redundancy in the creation of two celestial bodies—the sun and the moon—as one of them could have sufficed to illuminate the world. The Talmudic sage R. Simeon b. Pazi relates a legendary conversation in which the moon implores God for hegemony over the sun. The moon makes its case using an allegory borrowed from the world of kingship. It raises the hypothetical question whether two sovereigns can share a single crown.148 This midrash, intrigued by the use of the plural in Genesis 1:16: “And God made the great lights”, maintains that originally the two luminaries were of equal size. Upon hearing the moon’s grievance, God ordered it to diminish itself. However, He compensated the moon with three honours: it shall govern the night and the counting of the Jewish months; the righteous shall be named after it ‫ה ָּק ָטן‬, ַ i.e., the lesser; and the Israelites shall offer a sin offering in honour of the birth of the new moon on the first day of every month.149 The artist’s iconographic choice, transcending the text describing the Creation within the portals of fol. 1v through 2v, is a good example of a para-image introduced by way of association. The coronet on fol. 2r and the luminaries depicted on the ensuing page, fol. 2v, constitute together a visual elaboration on

no. 3 (1977): 327–347, who deals mainly with a later period, while referring to the early texts and discourses on this issue on 330–332. On the concept among Ḥasidei Ashkenaz, see Susanne Talabardon, Der Gerechte ist das Fundament der Welt. Jüdische Heiligenlegenden aus dem Umfeld des Chassidismus (Jüdische Kultur 11) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003). 147 The essence of the deliberation is about the shape of the earth, namely whether it is flat and rests on some sort of foundation, flat and floating in the air or nothingness, round but with its “bottom” half immersed in water, or round with both sides inhabitable. See Menahem Mendel Kasher, “Torat ha-beri’ah u-mishnat ha-hitpathut be-midrashei HaZaL,” in Olamot Nifgashim: Mada veTekhnologiya biRe’i haHalakha, ed. Yishai Levi (Jerusalem: Ministry of Education, 2003), 75–102. An earlier imprint of the same title appeared in Sefer Yovel Likhevod Shemu’el Ḳalman Mirski liMelot Sheloshim Shanah la'Avodato haBerukhah biSedeh haMada' veHarbatsat haTorah beAmerikah, ed. Shim'on Bernshṭain and Gershon A. Hurgin (New York: Va'ad ha-Yovel, 5718/1958), 256–284 (Hebrew). 148 BT Hullin 60b. 149 According to Num 28:55.

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the midrashic theme that echoes the philosophical-moralistic reflection at the beginning of the Nuremberg Miscellany. The main body of the compilation, which is liturgical and halakhic in nature, begins only at this point. The bottom lines of the text inscribed on fol. 2r already lead not only to the following page, but to the full-page image of the Hospitality of Abraham portrayed on fol. 3r as well. It includes a passage on the tree that Abraham planted in Beer Sheva, as it is told, “Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beer Sheva, and called there on the name of the Lord, the Everlasting God.”150 The rabbis pondered the choice of the tamarisk tree, ‫( ֶא ֶשל‬eshel) in the Hebrew text. Yalquṭ Shim'oni quotes R. Simeon, who explicates that the name stands for the acrostic which denotes (in Hebrew) “eating,” “drinking” and “escorting”151— the deeds that Abraham offered his heavenly guests.152 The compiler’s allusion to this exegetical tradition thereby links the text on fol. 2r and the image on fol. 3r in an interesting dialogue between text and image.

The Anthropomorphic Luminaries As in the preceding pages, the text of fol. 2v is inscribed within an arch with an intricate vegetal decoration. The continuation of the moralistic-midrashic discourse begun on fol. 1v occupies less than half of the text-space. The arch is resting on two columns with a similar function, form, and colour scheme as that of the preceding pages. Here, again, foliage bands of burgundy and green, carefully outlined in dark brown, embellish the columns in a parallel and complementary arrangement. As part of the interlace decoration, each column terminates at its bottom with images of ferocious animal heads with their jaws open and showing bared teeth, facing one another. Above the text, there is an image of an upright conch (see Figure 41). Two roundels, like capitals above the columns, represent anthropomorphic images of the sun and the moon. This imagery alludes to the biblical narrative where it is stated that the purpose of creating the celestial luminaries and constellations was for them to control and illuminate the day and the night.153 Depictions of the celestial bodies in general, and even more so luminaries displaying anthropomorphic features, were adamantly denounced by the rabbinic 150 Gen 21:33. 151 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Psalms §869, s.v. ‫לדוד מזמור‬. See also loc. cit. §728, s.v. ‫לדוד אל‬. Later, Rashi brings this interpretation in his exegesis to BT Ketubbot 8b, s.v. ‫בבריתו של‬, and BT Sotah 10a, s.v. ‫פונדק—ללון‬. An early version of this exegesis is found in Genesis Rabbah 54:6. 152 See, however, the traditions brought by Rashi to Gen 21:33. 153 Gen 1:14–18.

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Figure 41: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 2v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud.154 Yet, despite the warnings against creating and depicting images of the celestial “idols” (‫ּומּזָ לֹות‬ ַ ‫כֹוכ ִבים‬, ָ lit. “stars and constellations”),155 Jewish art is replete with such images. To be sure, the warnings, proclaimed against idol worshipping do not forbid neutral images, provided they are not intended for worship.156 A careful reading of the Second Commandment in its entirety fully supports this statement. For our discussion, the relevant part of the text

154 See, for example, M. Avodah Zarah 3:3; BT Avodah Zarah 42b. This prohibition was later reiterated by Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Avodah Zarah 7, §8, and others. See also the chapter on Sanctification of the New Moon, 202–210. 155 Deut 4:19 emphatically denounces any form of worship of celestial beings, although other texts describe a different reality, as deplored in II Kgs 21:5 or Jer 19:13. Astrology, however, was a matter of dispute, ranging from acceptance to stern objection. An illustrating example is the debate in BT Shabbat 156a–b, in which the existence or impact of astrology on the People of Israel is deliberated. For further examples of the Jewish attitude towards astronomy, see BT Berakhot 58b; BT 'Eruvin 43b or BT Sanhedrin 38a; as well as Midrash Tehillim (Buber) and Psalm 19. 156 As expressed, for example, by Maimonides, Mishneh Torah 11:3.

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in Exodus 20:3–4 reads157: “You shall not make for yourself a graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them . . . .” Images of the luminaries and astrological symbols became a legitimate part of the mainstream Jewish iconographic vocabulary and were incorporated into decorative plans of synagogue mosaic floors in Eretz Israel and the Diaspora in the Roman, Hellenistic and Byzantine eras.158 Their main panel typically portrays the Greek sun god Helios (or the Roman parallel Zeus) riding his quadriga representing the sun, surrounded by the zodiac signs. The presence of this motif in multiple synagogues indicates that there was no effective rabbinic or popular objection to it.159 Medieval Jewish art in Europe, too, was abounding with anthropomorphic representations of the sun and the moon. Jewish artists have adopted their depiction, common in Romanesque art,160 as an iconographic feature (see Figure 42). Such anthropomorphic illustrations appear in Ashkenazi manuscripts as early

157 Chapter division and versification of the Bible were introduced at different times and by different scholars in the Jewish and Christian worlds, resulting in divergences between the two traditions. See mainly Christian David Ginsburg, Introduction to the Massoretico-Critical Edition of the Hebrew Bible (with a prolegomenon by Harry M. Orlinsky: The Masoretic Text; a Critical Evaluation) (New York: Ktav, 1966 [©1897]), chap. vi; Ludwig Blau, “Massoretic Studies,” Jewish Quarterly Review 9 (1897): 122–141, 471–490; and George Foot Moore, “The Vulgate: Chapters and Numbered Verses in the Hebrew Bible,” Journal of Biblical Literature 12, no. 1 (1893): 73–78.‬‬ 158 An exemplary narrative to that effect is embedded in the passage from the M Rosh Hashanah 2:8–9. Relating the manner in which the re-emergence and beginning of the month is determined by the appearance of the new moon, it is said: “Rabban Gamali’el had, on a tablet and on the walls of his room, various delineations of the figure and aspect of the moon, which he showed to ignorant witnesses, asking them, ‘Was it of this figure, or of that?’” The images that Rabban Gamali’el owned were, by no means, objects of idolatry. Rather, they were tools that he used for the sake of calendrical calculation, by which to proclaim the new moon, and were, therefore, permissible. 159 Many studies have been written on this issue. See, for example, James H. Charlesworth, “Jewish Astrology in the Talmud, Pseudepigrapha, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Early Palestinian Synagogues,” The Harvard Theological Review 70, nos. 3–4 (1977): 183–200, where the author provides (and criticises) ample bibliography. See further, Gad Erlanger, Signs of the Times: The Zodiac in Jewish Tradition (New York: Feldheim, 2001), 5–26; and, from a different perspective, Michael D. Levin, “Some Jewish Sources for the Vienna Genesis,” The Art Bulletin 54, no. 3 (1972): 241–244. 160 As, for example, in the medallions flanking the upper part of the tracery of the rose window in the west facade of the Church of St. Lorenz in Nuremberg, whose construction began in 1270. This particular window and facade decorations, however, date to the second half of the fourteenth century. See Wim Swaan, Art and Architecture of the Late Middle Ages (New York: Crescent, 1982), no. 235, 148 and image on 149.

The Anthropomorphic Luminaries 

 117

Figure 42: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 2v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

as the twelfth century, with a visual vocabulary similar to that of the non-Jewish world.161 Thus, the South-German Ambrosiana Bible from 1236–1238 shows the Divine Chariot against the Seven Heavens, rendered as concentric circles with the sky at their centre. The stars, the sun, and the moon present full frontal human faces.162 Later examples, also from Germany, show the luminaries and constellations—with or without facial features—in various contexts. They are often part of the iconography in the illustration for the piyyuṭ Ot Ze haḤodesh (‫אֹות‬ ‫ )זֶ ה ַהח ֶֹדש‬for Rosh Ḥodesh, the beginning of the month.163 Other contexts include

161 During the same period, many Ashkenazi manuscripts reveal a quite different phenomenon, depicting deities and humans with zoocephalic features. See mainly Zofja Ameisenowa, “AnimalHeaded Gods, Evangelists, Saints and Righteous Men,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes XII (1949): 21–45; and Bezalel Narkiss, “On the Zoocephalic Phenomenon in Medieval Ashkenazi Manuscripts,” in Lola Slepzoff, ed., Norms and Variations in Art – Essays in Honour of Moshe Barash (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1983), 49–62. Various views on this iconographic feature have lately been re-evaluated by Marc Michael Epstein in his review article, “Representations of the Jewish Image,” AJS Review 26, no. 2 (2002): 327–340. See further the gender-related approach offered by Zsófia Buda, “Animals and Gazing at Women. Zoocephalic Figures in the Tripartite Mahzor,” in: Gerhard Jaritz and Alice Mathea Choyke, eds., Medium Aevum Quotidianum 16 (Sonderband, 2005), 136–164. 162 Fol. 2v. The hieratic evaluation of human beings, angels, the constellations, and non-Jews, concerning the presence or lack of facial features in the Birds’ Head Haggadah, is convincingly presented by Epstein, Medieval Haggadah, 60–63. The anthropomorphic constellations in the Nuremberg Miscellany, however, seem not to fall into this categorised scheme. 163 As in the Michael Maḥzor, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, ms. Michael 617, fol. 26r, and in other instances reproduced in Sed-Rajna, Mahzor enluminé, plates I–III, figs. 1–6. The luminaries and the constellations are, naturally, part of the cosmological order and are, therefore, present in medieval Hebrew manuscripts in relevant contexts. The earliest known example, the Ambrosiana Bible, is the point of departure for the study on this topic by Sarit Shalev-Eyni, “Between Carnality and Spirituality: A Cosmological Vision of the End at the Turn of the Fifth Jewish Millennium,” Speculum 90/2 (2015): 458–482. More generally on illustrations

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the Giving of the Law, where the luminaries serve as celestial witnesses,164 flanking Solomon’s throne,165 or as part of the decorative scheme of the arch enclosing the piyyuṭ ‫( ֵאל ִמ ְתנַ ֵּׂשא ְלכֹל ְלרֹאש‬El Mitnase leKhol leRosh) – a yoẓer, or liturgical hymn for Shabbat Parashat Sheqalim in the thirteenth-century south German Worms Maḥzor (see Figure 43).166

Figure 43: Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 39v [Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS Heb. 4°781]

Taking a different approach, Midrash Tanḥuma refers to the luminaries in a homily on the course and sequence of Creation, described in the first pages of the

of the zodiac signs in maḥzorim: idem, “The Mahzor as a Cosmological Calendar: The Zodiac Signs in Medieval Ashkenazi Context,” Ars Judaica, 10 (2014): 7–26. 164 Laud Maḥzor, Southern Germany, ca. 1290, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Laud Or. 321, fol. 127v, reproduced in Bezalel Narkiss, Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts (Jerusalem: Keter, 1969; reprint, 1974), plates 27, 95, and description on 94. 165 As in the Tripartite Maḥzor, Budapest, Kaufmann, MS A 384, fol. 183v, reproduced in Sed-Rajna, Mahzor enluminé, pl. XXV, fig. 49. 166 Worms Maḥzor, Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS Heb. 4°781/I, fol. 39v, reproduced in Narkiss, Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts, plate 26 on 93 and description on 92. Shabbat Parashat Sheqalim is a special Shabbat that occurs before Purim. It is named after the Torah reading (Exod 30:11–16) that deals with the mandatory half-sheqel donation for the upkeep of the Tabernacle, and later – the Temple.

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Miscellany.167 It mentions their respective roles in governing the light during the day and the night, quoting prophet Jeremiah, Thus says the Lord, who gives the sun for light by day and the fixed order of the moon and the stars for light by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar; the Lord of hosts is His name.168

Next, the sage uses this quote as evidence that “the world was founded on the Torah,” carrying on immediately to the description of the righteous in Psalm 1:2–3. . . . his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.169

Thus, the midrash links the luminaries with the righteous person who meditates the Torah day and night, and concludes this short concourse by stating that “the world stands for those who abide by the Torah.” Bearing in mind both the midrash and the prophetic verse, the artist must have recalled the sequel of Jeremiah’s prophecy, which mentions “the foundations of the earth.”170 This is the very same idea he chose with which to embellish the moralistic dissertation in the first pages of the Miscellany. Closely related to the topic at hand, another passage in Midrash Tanḥuma elaborates on the interdependence of the various elements of the universe, including the constellations that are part of that chain.171 This deliberation, too, may have influenced the artist’s choices in the visual elaboration of fol. 2v. By means of a special exegetical trail of associations, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany created a link between the anthropomorphic luminaries and Abraham’s hospitality, specifically when he is awaiting guests by the opening of his tent to welcome them in the heat of the day. Commenting on this event, the midrash in Genesis Rabbah maintains that Abraham himself was the reason for, and the cause of, the creation of heaven and earth. The text puts these words in God’s communication with Abraham, “If it were not for you, I would not have created the ‘wheel’ of the sun .  .  . [and] were it not for you, I would not have

167 Midrash Tanḥuma, Genesis, ch. 1, §1. 168 Jer 31:43. 169 Ps 1:2–3. 170 Jer 31:36: “Thus says the Lord: ‘If the heavens above can be measured, and the foundations of the earth below can be explored, then I will cast off all the descendants of Israel for all that they have done,’ says the Lord.” 171 Tanḥuma (Warsaw), Mishpatim, no. 12, s.v. ‫אם כסף‬.

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created the moon .  .  .”172 This tradition, too, may have been at the back of the artist’s mind as he was making his iconographic choices for fol. 2v and fol. 3r. He therefore dedicated the entire following page to Abraham and his heavenly guests as a visual conclusion to the textual excursus. Another tradition equates the sun and the moon with other personalities. BT Bava Batra states, “The elders of that generation said: ‘The countenance of Moses was like that of the sun; the countenance of Joshua was like that of the moon.’”173 While clearly intended to illustrate the hierarchy of the two leaders, this interpretation, too, remains compatible with the discourse on the righteous person (fol. 2r). Or Zaru'a by R. Isaac b. Moses of Vienna (1180–1250), discussing various types of righteousness, refers to a tradition that “the Holy One, blessed be He, makes for everyone a canopy corresponding to his honour.” He then compares Moses and Joshua to the light of the sun and the moon respectively, following the Talmudic deliberation.174 Reflecting on these traditions, the artist of the Miscellany incorporated the iconographic element of the human-featured constellations in a composition that is placed prior to the portrayal of the hospitality of Abraham—yet another well-known ancestral righteous man. Other embellishments are not as easy to contextualise as the aforementioned examples for which there are either explicit or implicit indication in Jewish textual lore. This is the case, for example, with the ferocious animal heads at the foot of the columns and the naked winged putti above the arch. The putti are engaged in music making, playing contemporary instruments similar to those depicted in the woodcut in Musica getutscht, the earliest printed treatise on musical instruments in Europe. It was written by the priest, chapel singer, composer, and theorist on musical instruments Sebastian Virdung (born c. 1465) and printed in Basel in 1511.175 The trumpets they are playing, for example, are typical for the period.176 This one-piece straight rod instrument developed in the

172 Genesis Rabbah (Vilna), Parashat Vayyera, no. 48, §8. See also in another recension, edited by Theodore-Albek, loc. cit., s.v. ‫והוא יושב פתח‬, and Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Vayyera, hint 82 (to v. 18), s.v. ‫כתיב אחרי‬. 173 BT Bava Batra 75a. 174 Sefer Or Zaru'a, Alpha Beta, part I, §44, s.v. ‫צ´ץ צדיק‬. 175 Sebastian Virdung, Musica getutscht: und ausgezogē durch Sebastianū Virdung Priesters von Amberg und alles Gesang auss den Notē in die Tabulaturē diser benantē dryer Instrumētē, der Orgeln, der Lautē und d̄ Flöten transferieren zu lernē kurtzlich gemacht zu erendē hochwirdigē hoch gebornen fürsten unnd Herren: Herr Wilhalmen Bischoue zü Strassburg seynem gnedigē Herren (Basel: n.p., 1511). 176 See reproduction of the woodcut in Daniel Heartz, “Hoftanz and Basse Dance,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 19, no. 1 (Spring, 1966): 34, plate I. Musica getutscht is the first treatise on instruments and instrumental music published in the vernacular. It attempts to

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Middle Ages into a multi-part version that could be assembled and “folded” in various manners. Coiling the tube of the trumpet in a zigzag was first introduced in the sixteenth century and gradually replaced earlier models. This new type of trumpet is depicted in the Miscellany,177 attesting to the artist’s familiarity with current trends and contemporary culture, including, in this case, music and musical instruments. Within a Jewish context, the putti musicians may be an attempt to illustrate the verse from the Psalms, “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.”178 Placed above the arch, which may symbolically represent the vault of the sky, they join the celestial bodies in songs of praise of God, blowing their trumpets to glorify Him. This iconographic composition perfectly complements the finale of the text inscribed within the arch in small semi-cursive letters. The rhymed text, which seems to be an original composition by the compiler, calls upon those partaking in a meal to recite the Grace After Meals, acclaiming and expressing gratitude to “the One who dwells in Heaven.”179

establish an instrument classification system based on structure, sound production, and playing technique. It also demonstrates how to transcribe mensural vocal music into three types of instrumental tablature, for keyboard, strings, and winds, and gave birth to a number of instrumental tutorials written for the lay musician. On the opus, see Edwin M. Ripin, “A Reevaluation of Virdung’s ‘Musica getutscht,’” Journal of the American Musicological Society 29, no. 2 (Summer, 1976): 189–223. 177 For the identification of the musical instruments depicted in the manuscript, I am gratefully indebted to Dr. Frank P. Bär, curator of the historical musical instruments (Historische Musikinstrumente) in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. For comparisons to the trumpets in the Nuremberg Miscellany, see Michael Praetorius, Syntagma musicum, II: De Organographia (Documenta musicologica, erste Reihe: Druckschriften-Faksimiles XIV), Faksimile-Nachdruck herausgegeben von Wilibald Gurlitt (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1963; reproduction of the original edition, 1619), Panel VII, no. 10. Compare also similar instruments shown in the aquarell “Auszug Pfalzgraf Johann Casimirs aus der Burg Winzingen,” painted in 1578 by an unknown artist. The aquarell is housed in Speyer, Historisches Museum der Pfalz, Inv. No. 1932/58. For a reproduction, see Wolfgang Diehl et al., eds., Historisches Museum der Pfalz Speyer (Museen in Rheinland-Pfalz, Bd. 1) (Speyer: Zechner, 1983), 102–103. 178 Ps 19:2. 179 This rhymed conclusion of the moralistic part of the manuscript will be further discussed in detail in the Conclusion.

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Abraham and the Heavenly Guests: The Paragon of Hospitality The Protagonists and the Stage-Setting Biblical imagery features only sporadically in the decorative scheme of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Its first appearance in the manuscript is a full-page illustration set vertically on fol. 3r. It depicts the scene from Genesis 18:1–22 recounting the three mysterious men coming to visit the aged Abraham and Sarah to announce the future birth of their son. Beyond the explicit illustration of the biblical narrative, the artist took the liberty of interpreting it by incorporating multiple strata of exegesis and weaving them into an extremely complex image. The illustration stands out in many ways in the decorative plan of the manuscript (see Figure 44). Not only are its format and direction unique but also its intricacy. Its manifold visual allusions to texts and paratexts by far supersede that of the actual narrative, playing a significant role in it and augmenting the message it seeks to deliver. Moreover, the extent of iconographic sophis-

Figure 44: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 2v-3r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

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tication not only of the scene as a whole but also of every minute detail in it is extremely rare in Jewish art, perhaps even unprecedented. It is a work of art carefully put together by juxtaposing layer upon layer of sagacity, wisdom, insight, and wit into a complex portrayal in which para-images blend with traditional Jewish iconography and the general Zeitgeist to form one solid visual expression. Abraham’s hospitality is a most appropriate illustration to serve as the gate into the main corpus of the book and the first page of the original first quire. Thematically, fol. 3r relates to the moralistic discourse of the previous pages. On fol. 2v, the compiler narrates the merits of the feast that “Abraham, our Patriarch” prepared for his guests. As one of the sources, he mentions a known ethical treatise entitled 'Ir Gibborim, a collection of sermons by R. Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron Luntshitz.180 Anthonius Froben in Basel published this text for the first time in 1580, only about nine years before the creation of the Nuremberg Miscellany in winter 1589.181 The passage in 'Ir Gibborim, which the author of the manuscript paraphrases, designates Abraham as a ẓaddiq (righteous man) in a long, complex deliberation.182 In this text, Luntshitz draws a parallel between circumcision and the forbidden early fruit of trees, which initially may seem incoherent. Luntshitz, in fact, draws upon a homonym of the word ‫'( ָע ְר ָלה‬orlah), denoting both the fruit of a young tree and the human foreskin. According to Jewish law, it is forbidden to either eat or enjoy the fruit during the first three years of the tree’s life.183 Precisely the same word—'orlah—designates the foreskin as well. Quoting the verse from Proverbs 11:30: “The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life . . .” Luntshitz argues that the “fruit” of the righteous person are his or her good deeds. Apparently, this literary pun on the 'orlah determined the visual rendering of the the tree that occupies a central part of the image on fol. 3r. Like the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany, who is basing part of his discourse on 'Ir Gibborim, the artist, too, must have thought not only of the biblical narrative that includes the

180 Luntshitz (of Leczyca, Poland, 1550–1619) was a disciple of Rabbi Solomon Luria (known by the acronym Maharshal), a Talmudist and a leading rabbinic authority in Lviv (Lemberg) and Prague in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century. At the time he resided in Lviv, serving there as Rosh Yeshivah (head of the rabbinical academy). 181 A further discussion on the cultural background of the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany will follow in the Conclusion. 182 Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron of Luntshitz, Sefer 'Ir Gibborim (Jerusalem: Tiferet HaTorah, 2006), Parashat Lekh Lekha, no. 38 (Hebrew). 183 Joseph Qaro, Shulḥan 'Arukh, Yoreh De'ah, 294:1 (Hebrew).

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location in which the encounter took place, in Elonei Mamre (=Oaks of Mamre), but also of this annotation with all its overtones.184 The composite image shows Abraham, offering his winged guests gathered under the bright sun a decanter of wine and what seems to be a round loaf of bread (see Figure 45). This repast comprises more than what the Bible describes, namely water to wash with and bread to eat. Adding the wine is evocative of another episode from the story of Abraham, which includes a welcoming offering of food: his encounter with Melchizedek, king of Salem after having defeated King Chedorlaomer. It is said, “. . . And Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine; he was priest of God Most High.”185 Setting the model for a convivial meal, perhaps even symbolising the essence—though not the scope—of any meal, the allusion to the banquet that Abraham offered to his guests is immediate and direct.186

Figure 45: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

184 Luntshitz, 'Ir Gibborim, no. 62, 51 (Hebrew). 185 Gen 14:18. 186 The theme of Abraham’s hospitality in antiquity has been dealt with by Erwin R. Goodenough, Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1964), vol. 10, text II, 91–96.

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It seems, though, that the artist wished to convey more than a universal message of hospitality. By adding the decanter of wine to the repast, he hinted at Abraham’s generosity which surpassed that of Melchizedek many times over. Abraham, it is told, offered his guests an abundance of the very best, a meal comprising cakes and a “calf tender and good,” curd, and milk,187 none of which are depicted in the image, but are hinted at in absentia by the artist and presumably understood by the recipient of the manuscript by virtue of his familiarity with Jewish scriptural lore.188 In the biblical story of Abraham’s hospitality, a servant helps the patriarch: “Abraham ran unto the herd, and fetched a calf tender and good, and gave it unto the servant; and he hastened to dress it.”189 Despite this intimation, there can be very little doubt that, in the illustration, the figure bearing wine and bread represents Abraham and not his servant, who, according to some traditions, was his son Ishmael.190 Had the artist omitted Abraham from the scene altogether and depicted Ishmael in his stead, the image would have lacked its main protagonist and its message then would have been suggestive of a prophecy spoken to Ishmael and his offspring rather than to Abraham, as in the biblical narrative.191 In fact, reading Genesis 18:7 literally, the Babylonian Talmud (and later Yalquṭ Shim'oni) insists that it was, indeed, Abraham who served his visitors. In the name of R. Judah, it states that he himself fetched the calf, the butter and the milk, served his visitors, and lastly escorted them in farewell.192 Besides Abraham, the other characters in the scene on fol. 3r are easily identifiable (see Figure 46). The three winged men—the heavenly messengers—are standing at a table, laid with food and drink. Their respective identities are revealed in a flying scroll spread above their heads. To the far right, Sarah stands at the gate of a medieval walled city that symbolically represents the tent, observing the events.

187 Ibid. 18: 5–8. 188 It cannot be overruled that, beyond a more or less neutral theme of supreme hospitality on the one hand and the gift of childbirth on the other hand, the artist was polemicizing with the Christoligical overtones imparted to the meeting between Abraham and Melchizedek, as demonstrated by Katrin Kogman-Appel, “Coping with Christian Pictorial Sources: What Did Jewish Miniaturists Not Paint?” Speculum 75, 4 (2000), 829–834. 189 Ibid. 18:7. 190 Thus, for example, Genesis Rabbah, section 48, s.v. ‫ואל הבקר‬, as well as Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Vayyera §82, s.v. ‫אמר רבי יצחק‬, which follows it almost verbatim. 191 Gen 18:1–16. 192 BT Bava Metzia 86b and Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Vayyera §82, s.v. ‫יקח נא‬.

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Figure 46: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The artist’s careful compositional choice is also visible in Abraham’s placement and posture: he appears as part of the group of the men, facing his guests with his back turned to Sarah, thus excluding her from the scene. This choreography corresponds to the biblical narrative in which “Sarah heard at the tent door, which was behind him.”193 The Bible first mentions Sarah in this story when Abraham rushes to the tent and bids her to prepare the feast of hospitality. Only later, after a short discourse between the host and his visitors, in which the men ask Abraham “. . . Where is Sarah your wife?”194 does she actually appear in personam, yet in the tent and not in the “main frame” of the scene. Even then, she does not assume an active role save in the preparation of the food for the guests, and becomes the subject of the prophecy that she will be blessed with a child. Although the Bible explicitly states that “Sarah heard at the tent door,”195 the midrash maintains that “she deliberately positioned herself by the entrance so that she [can] hear the words of the angels.”196 While this interpretation suggests a temporal simultaneity, the artist chose to place 193 Gen 18:10. 194 Ibid. 18:9. 195 Ibid. 18:10. 196 Midrash Agadah (Buber), Genesis, chap. 18, s.v. ‫ויאמר שוב‬. Some midrashim seem to reproach Sarah for eavesdropping. See, for example, Avot deRabbi Nathan, version B, chap. 45, s.v. ‫ד מדות‬. Genesis Rabbah (Vilna), Parashat Vayyera 48, §7, though using the formulation ‫( ַציְ ָתנִ ית‬that may also insinuate “obedient”), but surely referring to the ear and alluding to her eavesdropping, playing a linguistic pun on the Hebrew root .‫ת‬.‫ו‬.‫ – צ‬to eavesdrop.

Abraham and the Heavenly Guests: The Paragon of Hospitality 

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Sarah disjointed from the main episode, thus creating a hierarchy of two different loci of events. There may be another motive for sidelining Sarah in the illustration. In addition to prying at the entrance, another tradition reproaches her ridiculing the message of the guests, ignoring their divine mission: “And Sarah laughed within herself, saying: ‘After I am waxed old shall I have pleasure, my lord being old also?’”197 Commentators have tried to minimise the significance of her scepticism, interpreting the word “within herself” (‫)ב ִק ְר ָבּה‬ ְ as related to another one based on the same root (.‫ב‬.‫ר‬.‫)ק‬, meaning “innards” (‫יה‬ ָ ‫)ב ְק ָר ֶב‬. ִ Thus, they suggested that she “laughed, putting her hand on her belly and saying, ‘Can this withered and dry belly carry a child?’”198 The artwork in the manuscript reflects this tradition in iconographic detail: Sarah’s right hand seems to hang by her side, while her left is actually resting on her belly (see Figure 47).

Figure 47: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

197 Gen 18:23. 198 Tsene-rene, Parashat Vayyera, 92.

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Backdrop to the Events The physical place in the Nuremberg Miscellany in which the scene is set is somewhat puzzling. While the heavenly messengers and Abraham are shown in the open space of Elonei Mamre (presumably alluding also to the Garden of Eden— as will be discussed later), Sarah is portrayed within a city gate. Conversely, the biblical narrative explicitly maintains that “Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah,”199 and later, when the guests ask Abraham regarding her whereabouts, he replies, “Behold, in the tent.”200 Yet, the visual setting positions Sarah at the gateway of a walled city, in contradiction to the text. In traditional Jewish iconography from the Middle Ages, artists often ignored the distinction between the permanent nature of a house and the temporary shelter of a tent, focusing on the main elements of the plot. A good example of this is the depiction of Abraham’s encounter with the mysterious men in the Hebrew miscellany from northern France, the North French Miscellany from 1277–1324.201 One of its thirty-nine illustrations is a composition consisting of two scenes dedicated to Abraham’s hospitality, arranged vertically on one page (see Figure 48a-b). The upper panel shows Abraham rising from a throne or armchair, located in an entranceway covered with flung-open drapery suggestive of a tent, exposing an interior. The three heavenly emissaries stand by a constructed aperture allusive of an door to a home. The lower panel, spanning its entire breadth, shows the guests enjoying the meal under the tree. The composition is therefore an iconographic hybrid combining both a permanent structure and a tent, represented by the drapery. The following image, the sequel to the same iconographic cycle, shows Sarah at the entrance to the “tent,” which, as in the Miscellany, is designed like a solid structure.202 The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, then, was not singular in his iconographic preference of showing Sarah not in a tent but in a constructed edifice.

199 Gen 18:6. 200 Ibid. 18:9. 201 London, The British Library, Add. MS 11693, fol. 118r. See G. Margoliouth, “An Ancient Illuminated Hebrew Ms. at the British Museum,” Jewish Quarterly Review 17, no. 2 (1905): 193–197. A comprehensive study on the manuscript was carried out by Sara Offenberg, Illuminated Piety: Pietistic Texts and Images in the North French Hebrew Miscellany (Los Angeles: Cherub Press 2013). 202 Ibid, Fol. 118v.

Abraham and the Heavenly Guests: The Paragon of Hospitality 

b (fol. 118v)

 129

a (fol. 118r)

Figure 48a-b: North French Miscellany, Northern France, 1277–1324, fol. 118r, 118v [London, The British Library, MS. Add. 11693]

Between Sarah at the city gate and the tree, a barely legible faded text quotes the angel’s words to Abraham, “He said, ‘I will surely return to you in the spring, and Sarah your wife shall have a son.’ And Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him (see Figure 49).”203 Placed between the two parts of the illustration—the main scene showing Abraham and the guests, and the secondary realm of Sarah by the “tent”—the inscription serves as a caption for both. It explains the separation between the primary and the secondary protagonists involved, while at the same time highlighting the very different respective reaction of Abraham and Sarah to the good tidings. The biblical narrative remains silent regarding Abraham’s response to the words of the heavenly emmisaries, mainly in light of the fact that the birth of his

203 Gen 18:10.

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Figure 49: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

progeny did not come as news to him. Already in Genesis 17:15–22 God appears to Abraham intimating the promise of an offspring, God said to Abraham, “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her; I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said to himself, “shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?”204

Interestingly, there is no mention in the text that Abraham shared this announcement with his wife. Abraham’s apparent taciturnity in chapter 18 may perhaps have been a likely reaction to the words of the guests that were, in fact, a reiteration of God’s earlier promise and his subsequent recognition of the men as heavenly emissaries. Sarah, 204 Ibid. 17:15–17.

Abraham and the Heavenly Guests: The Paragon of Hospitality 

 131

too, displayed natural incredulity given her barrenness and age. Remarkably, the biblical narrative adopts contrasting attitudes towards Abraham’s laughter, which is not an object of criticism, and Sarah’s mistrust, which warranted her rebuke, as it is said, So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too hard for the Lord? At the appointed time I will return to you, in the spring, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied [it], saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “No, but you did laugh.”205

These divergent portrayals of Abraham and Sarah must have led the artist to structure his image so that it draws a clear compositional division between Abraham the believer and Sarah the sceptic, separating them by a gigantic tree. The inscription beside Sarah, quoting the angel’s divination to Abraham, calls to mind a similar annunciation in a very different context. The Gospel of Luke, 1:26–38 tells the story of Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary, proclaiming that she would conceive. Mary, betrothed to Joseph but not yet married, was startled at his words, saying, “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?”206 Or as Matthew says, “. . . before they [i.e., Mary and Joseph] came together”207 It is hardly imaginable that the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was oblivious to this story and was not aware of the similarity between the two narratives.208 Living in a Christian society and exposed to Christian iconography by nature of its presence in the public realm, the Annunciation was presumably  part of the culture familiar to him. Despite differences in detail, the similarity between these sagas was apparently too strong for the artist to ignore. While traditionally Archangel Gabriel was the messenger of the Annunciation to Mary, still a virgin, another angel, Michael, was the harbinger of the good tidings to Abraham and Sarah. Moreover, whereas both women had a moment of disbelief, Sarah laughed within herself, but did not come into immediate interaction with “her” angel of annunciation. Still, mastering a keleidioscopic aproach, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany seems to have been successful in lacing multiple layers of interpretation into this one image. 205 Ibid. 18:12–15. 206 Luke 1:34. 207 Matt 1:18. 208 A significant contribution to the study of Medieval Jewish stance regarding Marian theology and various rabbinic polemic confrontations with the theme, especially in conjunction with the biblical Miriam, is offered by Ephraim Shoham-Steiner, “The Virgin Mary, Miriam, and Jewish Reactions to Marian Devotion in the High Middle Ages,” AJS Review 37, no. 1 (April, 2013), 75–91. Especially enlightening is the material he brings forth (77–78) linking Miriam’s leprosy, as punishment for her disbelief, and Mary’s virginity.

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Sarah’s secondary role in the plot is expressed not only through the distancing of the two scenes, with her being placed in a separate setting beyond the tree, as if on a different stage. This segregation also renders any direct contact between Sarah and the emissaries at large, and Michael, the actual harbinger in particular, impossible – unlike the close encounter between Mary and Gabriel. Whether consciously or not, the artist visually deviated from Christian iconography of the Annunciation in which Gabriel usually appears to Mary from the left—the same direction in which he has chosen to place the heavenly guests and Abraham in his own illustration.209 In his iconographic compositional preference, however, such an encounter is unfeasible: the tree serves as an impenetrable barrier between them. Standing above the apex of the city gate, the artist depicted a bird that is altogether absent from the biblical account (see Figure 47). Given the artist’s limited palette on the one hand, and the colouring of the bird on the other hand, in addition to the limitations of its size, an accurate, true-to-life representation would have been somewhat challenging. Nonetheless, although a definite identification of the bird species is difficult, it is quite possible that it is a dove. Midrash Song of Songs Rabbah210 offers a special exegesis of the connection between the dove and Sarah in conjunction with Abraham’s hospitality, expounding on a verse from the Song of Songs: “O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet, and your face is comely.”211 The midrash takes this verse through an interesting twist that touches on the barrenness of the biblical matriarchs, who longed for an offspring. Attempting to explain why God denied them motherhood, R. Levi in the name of R. Shila of Kefar Temarta, and R. Ḥalbo in the name of R. Yoḥanan, maintain that He yearned for their pleas to Him.212 While the dove then became a symbol of any expectant mother in general, the text explicitly mentions Sarah as one of them. According to the exegetes, throughout all her childless years, she “would sit in her home like a bride on her wedding day,” awaiting the miracle of conceiving a child, and, like the dove in the covert of the cliff, beseeching God with her sweet voice.

209 Compare Kogman-Appel, Cultural Exchange, 20–21. 210 Song of Songs Rabbah is a ga’onic and rabbinic midrash from Eretz Israel on the Song of Songs, composed probably before the middle of the ninth century. 211 Song 2:14. 212 Song of Songs Rabbah, 2:14: section B, s.v. ‫ר’ יהודה‬, namely: ‫ וְ ַר ִבי‬,‫ַר ִבי ֵלוִ י ְב ֵשם ַר ִבי ִש ָילא ִמ ְכ ַפר ְת ַמ ְר ָתא‬ ‫ יֹונָ ִתי‬:‫ ָא ַמר ָל ֶהם‬.‫ ִב ְש ִביל ֶש ָהיָה ַה ָּקדֹוש ָברּוְך הּוא ִמ ְת ַאּוֶ ה ִל ְשמ ַֹע ִׂש ָיח ָתן‬,‫ ִמ ְּפנֵי ָמה נִ ְת ַע ְּקרּו ִא ָּמהֹות‬,‫יֹוחנָ ן‬ ָ ‫ְב ֵשם ַר ִבי‬ ..‫ּומ ְר ֵאיְך נָ אוֶ ה‬ ַ ‫קֹולְך ָע ֵרב‬ ֵ ‫ ִכי‬:‫ ֲה ָדא הּוא ִד ְכ ִתיב‬,‫יִיתי ַת ֲאוָ ה ִל ְשמ ַֹע ִׂש ַיח ְת ֶכן‬ ִ ‫ ֶש ָה‬,‫א ַֹמר ָל ֶכן ִמ ְּפנֵי ָמה ֶה ֱע ַק ְר ִתי ֶא ְת ֶכן‬. See also a variation on this midrash in Genesis Rabbah, section 45, s.v. ‫ ;ויבא אל‬and Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Song §986, s.v. ‫יונתי בחגוי הסלע‬.

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Depicting the dove perched on the globular finial of the city gate was not an obvious compositional choice; a closer physical proximity between Sarah and the bird would probably have been more appropriate. Yet the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was presumably aware of the symbolism allotted the dove in Christian iconography and therefore did not portray it descending from the sky, as is often done by Christian artists depicting the Baptism of Jesus,213 or volant as it is sometimes shown in the iconography of the Annunciation. This iconographic detail features, for example, in the Annunciation scene by Albrecht Dürer included in a series of thirty-seven woodcuts of “The Small Passion” from 1510. Above Mary’s head the artist depicted a dove representing the Holy Spirit, and in the sky above a figure of God the Father (see Figure 50).

Figure 50: Albrecht Dürer, “Annunciation,” from “The Small Passion,” 1510 [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Harry Walters, 1917 (17.37.277)

213 According to Matt 3:16 and Luke 3:22. Cf., for example, the psalter from Oxford of the early thirteenth century, in London, The British Library, MS Arundel 157, fol. 5v, a detail of which is shown in Epstein, Medieval Haggadah, fig. 33. The image is juxtaposed with a detail of the fall of the manna in the Birds’ Head Haggadah from Southern Germany, of ca. 1300, Jerusalem, The Israel Museum (purchased through the gift of Fred Monosson, Boston) 180/57; M912-4-46, fol. 22v, ibid., fig. 32. It is a rare example of a bird in descent in Jewish art. Here it is meant to represent the quails descending for the Israelites during their wanderings in the desert.

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Given the thematic similarity between the story in the Hebrew Bible and that of the Christian Scriptures, the artist may have been cautious about making any iconographic “slip” that might confuse his onlooker. Moreover, showing the dove volant would have set the bird against the neutral parchment background, thereby detaching it from the immediate proximity to Sarah and her “tent.” He therefore chose to place it atop the structure under which Sarah is standing, creating a compositional and iconographic axis that vertically connects the two into one self-explanatory unit with an unambiguous message. The identification of the bird above Sarah is, however, not unequivocal, and could also be read as a stork. The Hebrew word for stork is ‫ח ִס ָידה‬, ֲ etymologically meaning “merciful” or “kind,” and also “pious.” The biblical narrative describes it as a bird whose migrating pattern is regular and firmly determined. In Jeremiah’s words, “Even the stork in the heavens knows her times; and the turtledove, swallow, and crane keep the time of their coming . . .”214 Stemming from a common root .‫ד‬.‫ע‬.‫ו‬, the Hebrew word mo'ed ‫מֹועד‬ ֵ (appointed time), with the pronominal suffix “her” (a stork is feminine in Hebrew), produces the word we read in the verse, mo'adehah, ‫יה‬ ָ ‫מֹוע ֶד‬ ֲ (her, i.e., the stork’s appointed times). With a variant from the same root, God responds to the doubting Abraham saying, “Is anything too hard for the Lord? At the appointed time [‫ּמֹועד‬ ֵ ‫]ל‬ ַ I will return to you, in the spring, and Sarah shall have a son.”215 On fulfilment of the prophecy, the same word appears again: “Sarah conceived, and bore Abraham a son in his old age at the time [‫ּמֹועד‬ ֵ ‫]ל‬ ַ of which God had spoken to him.”216 Our suggestion of the bird’s identification as a stork is based on this linguistic association that is unlikely to have escaped the artist, who depicted the stork as a visual expression of the fulfilment of God’s promise to Abraham, “at the set time.” If indeed the bird represents a stork, this may be another indication of the influence of European—and not only Jewish—folk culture on the artist. In local tradition, the stork is a symbol of luck, prosperity, and mainly of fertility. As a migratory bird, it would fly south in the fall and return to Europe nine months later. Moreover, in European lore, a stork nesting on people’s roofs and chimneys is considered a symbol of good luck and the promise of a child that will be born to the couple living in that home, calling to mind the bird’s nine months of migration. Legend attributes to it the role of finding human infants dwelling in caves hidden in rocky steeps or in marshes and carrying them to their expectant

214 Jer 8:7. 215 Gen 18:14. 216 Ibid. 21:2.

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parents in a basket on its back, or held in its beak.217 The stork then gives the baby to the mothers or drops it down their chimney.218 It is noteworthy that, in nature, storks, which have little fear of humans, often nest on buildings—just like in the compositional setting of the bird resting on the top of the gate in which Sarah is seen standing. Admittedly, though, the bird above Sarah does not display the color attributes of the European white stork, with its white and black plumage,219 long reddish legs, and long red bill. Nor can one prove that the artist actually wished to depict a stork at all. Rather, the bird may have been placed there only as a hint for the observer, adding the tinge of Germanic folk lore to the inherent Jewish context in which the barren Sarah is likened to a dove. The bird, then, is probably there to imply both traditions, Jewish and Germanic, merged into one.

The Mystical Tree Reflecting criticism of Sarah’s incredulity, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany not only separated her from the main realm of events, but he also hinted to her more earthly character, comparing her doubting reaction to the prophecy with the utter belief presented by Abraham according to Genesis 18.220 He therefore presented her as intellectually and spiritually inferior to him, as a person engulfed within the culture of the local folk. To this end the artist introduced the tree as a compositional device to separate between the two spaces in which the events are taking place. But it is more than a technicality; it was probably conceived to denote a different spiritual realm as well. To the artist, Sarah was acting in a mundane setting, in the sphere of folk culture, entirely different from the physical location of Abraham’s encounter with the heavenly messengers and unlike his devout belief in God. The visual separation between the domains of occurrence

217 Birds have long been associated with the maternal symbols of pagan goddesses such as Juno. The stork may have been chosen for its white plumage (symbolising purity), size (in that it is big enough to carry an infant), and flight at high altitude (likened to flying between Earth and Heaven). See Alexander Francis Chamberlain, The Child and Childhood in Folk Thought (The Child in Primitive Culture) (New York: Macmillan, 1896), 186. 218 Boria Sax, The Mythical Zoo. An Encyclopedia of Animals in World Myth, Legend, and Literature (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2001), 153–154. 219 Examining the palette that the artist used, it becomes apparent that he either intentionally refrained from using black and white throughout the manuscript for some obscure reason, or was lacking the technical chemical skill to produce these tints. 220 In contrast with his incredulence in Gen 17:15–22, discussed above.

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is achieved by the imposing tree, which is depicted off-centre to the right and stretches the entire length of the image. The attempt to identify this tree naturally leads to Genesis 18:4, in which Abraham offers shelter and shade to his guests, saying: “Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree.” Yet, as appropriate as this quotation may be to the plot, the tree’s positioning within the composition does not fully comply with this particular biblical verse, as the winged men are not reclining under it, nor are they even near it at all. The tree should, therefore, be identified as the one under which Abraham stood while talking to his guests as they were eating, as it is said: “. . . and he stood by them under the tree, while they ate.”221 Additionally, the tree identifies the geographic setting in which the mysterious encounter took place. Ordered by God to leave his Mesopotamian hometown of Ur of the Chaldeans (Ur Kasdim), Abraham settled in Haran and then in Canaan. Genesis 13:18 tells us as follows: “Avram moved his tent, and came and dwelt by the Oaks of Mamre, which are in Hebron, and built there an altar unto the Lord.”222 The Hebrew rendition of the site in which Abraham’s hospitality took place—Elonei Mamre (‫—)אֹלנֵ י ַמ ְמ ֵרא‬refers ֵ to a locus known for its oak trees.223 Although the tree on fol. 3r of the Nuremberg Miscellany is definitely not an oak, it cannot be distinctively identified according to normative botanical measures. It may nonetheless be a symbolic instructor hinting to this place.224 The extraordinary iconographic peculiarities of the tree, and not only its exceedingly tall size, are of importance for the full iconographic perception of the image: the tree bears various sorts of fruit, and three birds are perched on its branches (see Figure 51). Two of them fit the characteristics of hoopoes (Upupa epops), with their brown-black, white, and pinkish colouring, elongated, slender

221 Gen 18:8. 222 The original name was Avram (Abram in English). Only later, as part of God’s covenant with him, was his name changed to Avraham (Abraham in English). See Gen 17:5. 223 The name probably denotes the “oak grove,” or the “wood of Mamre” after Abraham‘s ally, according to the legend in BT Bava Metzia 86b. On the geographical identification of this biblical site, see Benjamin Mazar, “The Early Israelite Settlement in the Hill Country,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, no. 241 (Winter, 1981): 75–85; and more recently Yitzhak Magen, “Mamre: A Cultic Site from the Reign of Herod,” in One Land—Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Stanislao Loffreda OFM., ed. G. Claudio Bottini, Leah Di Segni, and Lesław Daniel Chrupcała (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 2003), 245–257. 224 The Vulgate translates it as “in convalle Mambre,” while the King James Bible prefers “plains of Mamre,” presumably following Onqelos ad loc.

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Figure 51: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 8° Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

curved bills, and the crest on their heads.225 This avian species is widespread in Europe, where it nests during the spring, and was therefore obviously familiar to the artist, who captured its distinctiveness in his image. By choosing this specific bird, the artist may have intended to broaden spatially the scene of Abraham’s hospitality, linking it to the heavenly guests and the Temple in Jerusalem. In a sophisticated way, intertwining his pictorial imagery thread by thread through a vast sea of learnedness, the artist roamed between traditions related to Abraham, the hoopoe, the Tablets of the Law, and Solomon’s Temple,226 into a complex exegetical iconography.

225 The identification of the hoopoe with the biblical ‫יפת‬ ַ ‫ּדּוכ‬ ִ (Lev 11:19) lies with its description in BT Hullin 63a and with Rashi’s explication ad loc. 226 For traditions that associate the hoopoe with King Solomon in post-biblical and midrashic sources, see Jacob Lassner, Demonizing the Queen of Sheba: Boundaries of Gender and Culture in Postbiblical Judaism and Medieval Islam (Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993). On folk beliefs related to the hoopoe, see John Gotthold Kunstmann, “The Hoopoe: A Study in European Folklore,” PhD diss., (University of Chicago, 1938).

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On folio 3r, the artist first drew on his recollection of a midrash related to Abraham’s circumcision.227 According to Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, a midrash probably from the eighth century, “That place where Abraham was circumcised and his blood remained there, the altar was built . . .,”228 obviously alluding to the Temple, as stated, for example, by Maimonides in Mishneh Torah.229 The immediate sequel in the biblical narrative is the visit of the heavenly guests, inevitably linking the one event to the other.230 Another tradition indeed connects the hoopoe with the quarried stones that served as building blocks for the Temple. The construction of Solomon’s Temple was carried out under the prohibition against using metal implements for cutting the stones, “When the house was built, it was with stone prepared at the quarry; so that neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron was heard at the Temple while it was being built.”231 This follows the earlier injunction not to use any metal instrument to quarry and shape the stones for the altar of the Tabernacle, as stated, “If you make me an altar of stone, you shall not build it of hewn stones; for if you wield your tool upon it you profane it.”232 Allegedly, King Solomon sought not only to apply this prohibition to the altar but to the entire stonework at the Temple. The Babylonian Talmud, in the name of R. Judah, relates that in his quest for an alternative to metal instruments, the king consulted even with the demon Ashmedai (Asmodeus),233 who provided the king

227 Retold in Gen 17: 9–14; 23–27. 228 Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, chap. 28, sv. “‫הנס השמיני ויהי‬.” See also Pirke d’Rabbi Eli'ezer: (The Chapters of Rabbi Eliezer the Great) According to the Text of the Manuscript Belonging to Abraham Epstein of Vienna, translated and annotated with introduction and indices by Gerald Friedlander (London: K. Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. / New York: Bloch Publishing Company, 1916), chap. XIX, 204. 229 Sefer 'Avodah, Hilkhot Beit haBeḥirah, Halakha 1: “The Altar is [to be constructed] in a very precise location, which may never be changed, as it is said (II Chr 22:1): ‘This is the altar for the burnt offerings of Israel.’ Isaac was prepared as a sacrifice on the Temple’s [future] site, as it is said (Gen 22:2): ‘Go to the land of Moriah,’ and in II Chr 3:1 it is said: ‘Then, Solomon began to build the House of the Lord in Jerusalem, on Mt. Moriah, where [the Lord] appeared to David, his father, in the place that David had prepared, in the threshing floor of Ornan, the Jebusite.’” 230 The previous text in this exegetical discourse states that the day on which Abraham circumcised himself was Yom Kippur. The sequel of that passage reads (ibid.): “Every year the Holy One, blessed be He, sees the blood of our father Abraham’s circumcision, and He forgives all the sins of Israel, as it is said “for on this day shall atonement be made for you, to cleanse you” (Lev 16:30).” This biblical verse is part of the liturgical order of Yom Kippur as it was performed by the High Priest in the Temple and has entered the synagogal liturgy as a reminder of the destruction of the Temple. 231 I Kgs 6:7. 232 Exod 20:21. See also Deut 27:5. 233 Also known as Asmodai.

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 139

with a solution. He confided to Solomon that when Moses inscribed the second Tablets of the Law, a worm of unusual qualities, the shamir, chiselled through the stone and created the inscriptions on it. Ashmedai was thereby implying that Solomon should seek a similar means.234 Early rabbinic tradition includes the shamir among the magical “ten things that were created at the twilight of Shabbat,” in the mystical transitional dusk at the end of the sixth day of Creation, immediately prior to the first Shabbat.235 The shamir was a marvellous worm creature, which was so strong that it could carve stone better than the sharpest tool of iron and cut through any substance on earth.236 Having completed this task, it was placed in the Garden of Eden, and the hoopoe bird accepted custody of it and promised to protect it with her life.237 For eons, the hoopoe safeguarded it at all times. Eventually, the bird handed over the worm to Solomon and his men for the special task of building the Temple. The shamir then primed the stones so that they emerged hewn from the quarry, set for placement in the Temple. Thereafter it disappeared and no one knows its whereabouts to this very day.238 The inclusion of a worm crawling upwards on the left-hand side of the tree at the centre of the scene indicates that the manuscript’s artist was familiar with this exegetical tradition (see Figure 51). The worm’s green-ochre body terminates in a head crowned by two feelers.239 The positioning of the shamir in proximity to Abraham is consistent with the idea that the artist wanted to create a temporal link

234 Related in BT Gittin 68a–b. Cf. BT Sotah 48b. See also Rashi to BT Pesahim 54a; and Maimonides, Commentary on Avot 5:6. Armand Kaminka has offered a study of this legend in his article “The Origin of the Ashmedai Legend in the Babylonian Talmud,” The Jewish Quarterly Review, N.S. 13, no. 2 (1922): 221–224. 235 Avot 5:6. 236 BT Sotah 48b maintains that the gems of the urim veTumim and those of the shoulder pieces on the ephod that were to bear the names of the twelve tribes (both of the High Priest’s regalia), were incised “like the engravings of a signet” (Exod 28:11). They were marked by employing ink on each of the stones and exposing them to the shamir, which carved the inscriptions into them. 237 According to another interpretation, it was the woodpecker. Other sources maintain that it was the eagle, such as Midrash Tehillim 78:11, ‫ה ישלח בהם‬′‫ד‬. 238 BT Hullin 63a provides the earliest, albeit laconic, foundation for this tradition. See also, for example, Sifre Deuteronomy (ed. Friedmann), 355; BT Pesahim 54a; Avot deRabbi Natan 37, 95; Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer 19; Tosefta Sotah 15:1–Bavli 48b; Yerushalmi 9, 20d, Midrash Tehillim 78:11, ‫ה ישלח בהם‬′‫ד‬, and other sources. 239 Perhaps this iconographic reading is also the correct explanation of the particular iconography of an earthenware funerary tablet from the catacomb of Via Appia in Rome, described by Zofja Ameisenowa, “The Tree of Life in Jewish Iconography,” (translated by W. F. Mainland) Journal of the Warburg Institutes 2, no. 4 (1939): 332. The author, however, suggests that the bird picking on the tree “probably represents the soul of the departed Esther”—a reading that is not

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between the visit of the heavenly emissaries, the slightly earlier time of Abraham’s circumcision, and the building of Solomon’s Temple, many generations later. On the opposite side of the trunk, almost level with the shamir, the artist depicted two stylised flowers issuing from the miraculous tree that is growing a myriad of different fruits. Their placement in the space dedicated to Sarah may have a special significance. Midrash Genesis Rabbah offers an instructive exegesis on Sarah’s pregnancy. Referring to the verse, “The Lord visited Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did to Sarah as he had promised,”240 the midrash relates this passage to God’s words to Ezekiel, “All the trees of the field shall know that I the Lord bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I the Lord have spoken, and I will do it.”241 The midrash explains each constituent part of the verse by likening it to a specific biblical figure. It draws a parallel, for example, between Abraham and the words “make high the low tree,” which may be the textual source for Abraham’s relatively short figure and the oversized tree separating between the two parts of the scene in the Miscellany. It draws yet another parallel, between the words “make the dry tree to flourish” and the barren Sarah, whose womb God opened and granted her a son.242 This could have been the artist’s inspiration for the inclusion of the two flowers growing from the tree depicted so close to Sarah. This relationship highlights the importance of the tree with its specific iconographic features. Serving as more than a mere technical-compositional partition between Abraham and the guests on the one hand and Sarah at the “tent” on the other hand, it carries several levels of interpretation. The worm and the hoopoe are two components of the allusion to Solomon’s Temple. Finally, the tradition that the Temple stood on the site where Abraham’s circumcision wound bled brings the interpretation of the scene full circle.243 Yet the tree is further laden with other iconographic layers that will be discussed later.

substantiated in any way in the article, although the concept of the soul as the anima and its depiction as a bird is a widespread notion among art historians. 240 Gen 21:1. 241 Ezek 17:24. 242 Genesis Rabbah, section 53, s.v. ‫וה' פקד‬. See also Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Ezek §357, s.v. ‫קח על‬. 243 In yet another manner, the Temple is hinted at through the tradition that identifies the Garden of Eden with the Temple: “With love abounding did the Holy One, blessed be He, love the first man, inasmuch as He created him in a pure locality, in the place of the Temple.” See Friedlander, Pirke d’Rabbi Eli'ezer, chap. XII, 84.

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A Royal Repast Abraham’s generous hospitality extended to the messengers is manifest in the lavishly laid table, set with a clear glass goblet drawn to the left (see Figure 46).244 The content of the goblet is hard to identify, as there is no colouring within the goblet indicating the presence of liquid in it. If it is crystal glass, or so-called Venetian glass (either cristallo or vitrum blanchum),245 what we have here is a status symbol of an object only the well-to-do could afford. Domestic glass vessels used by the laity in central and northern Europe in the late Middle Ages and the Early Modern period were not as refined and were typically of a greenish tint, like the conical “Waldglas” beaker held by the figure shown on the left.246

244 Goblets were also made from other materials, ranging from silver, gilt silver, or gold, to ceramic and wood. Around the end of the thirteenth century, Venice became a major glass-making centre in Europe. In the second half of the fifteenth century, the craftsmen of Murano started using quartz sand and potash made from sea plants to produce pure crystal of two types of glass, cristallo and vitrum blanchum, as described by Marco Verità, “L’invenzione del cristallo muranese: una verifica analitica della fonti storiche,” Rivista della Stazione Sperimentale del Vetro 1 (1985): 17–29. The goblet in the illustration, however, need not be a true Venetian glass item. Already in the first quarter of the fifteenth century the technology of the “Venetian manner” spread towards the northern parts of Europe, yielding what came to be known as “façonde-Venise.” See Žiga Šmit et al., “Spread of Façon-de-Venise Glassmaking through Central and Western Europe,” Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research, Section B: Beam Interactions with Materials and Atoms B, 213, no. 1 (2004), 717–718. Both studies deal mainly with the technical aspects of Venetian glass. For the history of glass production, see Gustavus A. Eisen, Glass. Its Origin, History, Chronology, Technic and Classification to the Sixteenth Century (New York: W. E. Rudge, 1927). 245 Further reading is offered by Hugh Tait, The Golden Age of Venetian Glass (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1979). See also a more general survey by idem, “Glass in Europe from the Middle Ages to 1862,” in Masterpieces of Glass. A Selection Compiled by D. B. Harden, K. S. Painter, R. H. Pinder-Wilson, and Hugh Tait, ed. D. B. Harden et al. (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1968). 246 Such objects fall into the category of Waldglas (Ger. forest glass). The term derives from the fact that the medieval glasshouses for the industry were situated in forests that could provide fuel and potash. Such glass was made from sand with a steel oxide component in it, hence its light brown, yellow, grey, green, or blue colour, depending on the mineral content of the sand and water. See, for example, the glass that was made of mould-blown potash-lime glass in the Middle Rhineland, ca. 1450, now in New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, 1991, acc. no. 1991.99. On glass production in Central Europe in the Middle Ages, see Barbara Scholkmann, “Glasproduktion in Zentraleuropa im Mittelalter. Fragestellungen und Ergebnisse der archäologischen Forschung,” in Siedlungsgeschichte und Waldnutzungsformen. Erstes NordschwarzwaldSymposion, Baiersbronn: 1994 (in Zusammenarbeit mit dem Heimat- und Museumsverein für Stadt und Landkreis Freudenstadt), ed. Sönke Lorenz and Michael Matzke (Freudenstadt: Heimatund Museumsverein für Stadt und Landkreis Freudenstadt, 1997) (Freudenstädter Beiträge zur

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Three round objects that are set on the table before the guests may be interpreted either as the “cakes” that Abraham asked Sarah to bake,247 or as plates, probably made of ceramic or wood. They bear some resemblance to the bowl with the delicacies offered to the guests. Alternatively, a parallel may exist between the round objects and a brief reference in Kli Yaqar by Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron of Luntshitz.248 In his commentary on Parashat Vayyera, which recounts the encounter between Abraham and the heavenly messengers, Luntshitz claims that the event took place during Passover, and that Abraham appropriately fed his guests maẓẓot.249 If the author of the Nuremberg Miscellany was aware of this tradition— whether through oral transmission or from a manuscript copy of Luntshitz’s work— it could explain the perforations in the cakes, typical of the maẓẓot of Passover. Interestingly, the table is set without any cutlery whatsoever. One would expect to see at least one knife or more as part of the table setting. While knives have been in use as utensils since prehistoric times, their use as tableware is relatively recent. Forks, too, have a long history of existence as kitchen utensils, but personal forks became commonplace in Europe only around the fifteenth century. Hosts rarely provided knives and forks for their guests in medieval Europe. Most people carried their own cutlery, particularly knives,250 typically hanging from a belt or chatelaine, similar to the partly gilt silver set made in Nuremberg around 1620 by Friedrich Hirschvogel (see Figure 52). By 1560, however, it became common

geschichtlichen Landeskunde zwischen Neckar, Murg und Kinzig; Veröffentlichung des Alemannischen Instituts Freiburg i. Br. 10), 113–136. 247 “And Abraham hastened into the tent unto Sarah, and said: ‘Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes’” (Gen 18:6). 248 See Leonard Levin, Seeing with Both Eyes: Ephraim Luntshitz and the Polish-Jewish Renaissance (Leiden: Brill, 2008). Luntshitz’s best-known work is his homiletic commentary on the Torah, Kli Yaqar (lit. “Precious Vessel”), which was first printed in Lublin [s.n.] in 1602. Specifically on Kli Yaqar, see passim. 249 Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron of Luntshitz, Kli Yaqar (Prague: Moses b. Joseph Bezalel Katz, 1808), commentary on Parashat Vayyera, fol. 14r (Hebrew). 250 An interesting observation can be made upon examination of the woodcut by the Nuremberg artist Michael Wolgemut (1434–1519) which accompanies the work by Stephan Pater, Der Schatzbehalter oder Schrein der waren reichtümer des heils unnd ewyger seligkeit (Nuremberg: Anton Koberger, 1491). On the tables there are tablespoons, positioned perpendicular to the picture plane, whereas on the table in the foreground two knives are placed and an additional one is held by the crowned figure to the left of the table. This distinction is most probably hieratic in nature, an assumption supported by the presence of the costly beaker, the open book, and the additional book placed on that particular table, as well as by the proximity of the cooling bath to that table. A copy of the book is kept in New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1919, acc. no. 19.49.4. See Albert Schramm, Der Bilderschmuck der Frühdrucke, Bd. 17: Die Drucker in Nürnberg: 1. Anton Koberger (Leipzig: Deutsches Museum für Buch und Schrift, 1934), 9, and illus. 315–406.

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in Germany to provide a knife for each diner, or at least one knife for all those taking part in the meal.251

Figure 52: Friedrich Hirschvogel, traveling cutlery, Nuremberg, ca. 1620 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HG10714]

Taking imagery from the Jewish, predominantly Ashkenazi realm, as a comparative test case is particularly instructive. As early as 1236–1238, some three hundred and fifty years before the completion of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the artist of the Ambrosiana Bible originating in the same region as our manuscript (probably Ulm in Swabia), depicted four knives on the table set to serve the five persons who are attending the meal.252 The backdrop of this scene is the messianic Feast of the Righteous that will take place in the Garden of Eden.253 Arguably, the heavenly apocalyptic setting and the presence of the musicians, together with the rich meal, the costly dishes, and the utensils, can account for this iconographic feature of wealth as well. Additionally, in the mid-fifteenth century, the south-German Yahuda Hag-

251 On European flatware made of various materials, see Klaus Marquardt, Europäisches Eβbesteck aus acht Jahrhunderten. Eine Kunstsammlung (Stuttgart: Arnoldsche, 1997), and on the relevant period, 36–78. 252 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, ms. B 32  inf., fol. 136r, shown by Sed-Rajna, Jüdische Kunst, fig. 136. 253 Described, inter alia, in BT Bava Batra 75a; BT Pesahim 119b; BT Berakhot 34b; and Leviticus Rabbah 13:3. In this study, we use the terms “Garden of Eden” and “Paradise” interchangeably, as they are in Jewish popular culture.

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gadah includes an affluent Seder (lit. “order” or “sequence”) scene with a table set with gold objects and two knives for the participants (see Figure 53).254

Figure 53: Yahuda Haggadah, Southern Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/50; B55.01.0109] (Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama)

With this in mind, it is even more conspicuous that the Nuremberg Miscellany shows no knives on the table set for Abraham’s guests. This exclusion, though, may have been a deliberate choice, related to the knife’s prominent role in the story of the Binding of Isaac.255 This ordeal threatened to cast a heavy shadow over God’s promise of parenthood to Abraham and Sarah, and, indeed, rescind God’s covenant with Abraham that his seed will be numerous and spread all over the  earth. Introducing knives to the scene would have shifted the emphasis from  the promise to the crisis and its resolution, starkly deviating from the

254 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/50; B55.01.0109, fol. 22r. See Narkiss, Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts, 122 and pl. 41 on 123. 255 The object with which Abraham is about to sacrifice his son is termed ‫—מ ֲא ֶכ ֶלת‬a ַ word that occurs only five times in the entire Bible, two of which are included in the story of the Binding of Isaac, in Gen 22:6, 10.

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message the artist wished to convey through this particular image. Although unsubstantiated, this hypothesis is nonetheless plausible in view of other manifestations of the artist’s associative thinking and profound knowledge of Jewish texts and lore. Indeed, the two biblical stories share a number of motifs. In the Binding of Isaac, God commands Abraham, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering upon one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.’”256 In both sagas, the locus is Mount Moriah, at least according to the midrash,257 and the protagonists are Abraham and Isaac. Although Isaac is obviously absent ad corpus in the image showing the messengers visiting Abraham in Elonei Mamre, he is nonetheless very much the main figure in absentia and the cause for the encounter with the heavenly envoys. Thematically, in fact, these chapters in Abraham’s history are two sides of the same coin: in the first, he is promised an offspring, while in the other he is about to lose him in the self-same place, on Mount Moriah. In an attempt to avoid any overtones that might link the good tidings of the annunciation and the near-catastrophe of God’s command to sacrifice the progeny, the artist seems to have deliberately desisted from including an iconographic object hinting at the future test. This hypothesis finds support in a possible etymology of the name “Moriah.” Among other interpretations, it is also closely related to the Hebrew word ‫מֹורה‬ ָ (morah), both deriving from the same root (.‫ה‬.‫ר‬.‫)י‬. Morah (razor) is a word that belongs to the semantic field of the knife, yet its designation is that of a knife meant specifically for sacrificial rituals. Furthermore, it is in this context that it illustrates the nazirite nature of two biblical figures—Samson and Samuel, both sons born after a lengthy period of unfruitfulness. The Bible tells us that Samson’s mother, Manoah’s wife, was barren and longing to conceive. The angel of the Lord appeared to the woman and said to her, “Behold, you are barren and have no children; but you shall conceive and bear a son. Therefore beware, and drink no wine or strong drink, and eat nothing unclean, for lo, you shall conceive and bear a son. No razor shall come upon his head, for the boy shall be a nazirite to God from birth; and he shall begin to deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines.”258

256 Gen 22:2. 257 Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Elie'zer, chap. 28, sv. ‫הנס השמיני‬. 258 Judg 13:3–5.

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A pledge to refrain from cutting the hair of the promised child concerns the birth and life of the prophet Samuel. Greatly distressed, Samuel’s mother, Hannah, prayed: And she vowed a vow and said, “O Lord of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thy maidservant, and remember me, and not forget thy maidservant, but wilt give to thy maidservant a son, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.”259

Unlike the vocation of Samson and of Samuel, Isaac was not destined to become a nazirite or a prophet, but one of the progenitors of the People of Israel. There was therefore no place for a ritual knife, the morah, in his life. Nor was it justified to include a knife in the depiction of the divination of his birth, not even on the table laid for the heavenly harbingers of the good tidings of his own future birth, in order to avoid any recollection or association with the Binding of Isaac at this moment of joy. At the centre of the table, the artist depicted a bowl containing three longish red objects. The inscription on the bowl reads ‫“— ג' לשונות בחרדל‬three tongues in mustard.” Both the iconographic detail and the inscription are references to a Talmudic deliberation on Genesis 18:7 that describes the menu Abraham set before his guests. Expounding on the ostensibly redundant phrase, “a calf, tender, and good,” the sages or the Babylonian Talmud state: Scripture should have written [a calf] tender, good; why [does it add] “and” [before] good? This proves that it requires exegeses. Thereupon Rav declared that each adjective denotes a different calf: “A calf, means one; tender—two; and good—three!” The rabbis then raised a further question: “But why three? Would not one have sufficed? R. Ḥanan b. Raba said: In order to offer them three tongues in mustard.260

259 I Sam 1:11. 260 BT Bava Metzia 86b. Cf. Rashi to Gen 18:7. In effect, Rashi summarised the Talmudic interpretation and the extended version in Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Gen 18, §82. This detail of the three tongues, which prevails in Jewish lore, does not resonate in Christian iconography of the scene at all. See, for example, the wall painting in the fourth-century Catacomb of Via Latina in Rome, in which, beside Abraham, the artist depicted one single small ox, as if awaiting to be offered to the guests. See Antonio Ferrua, Le pitture della nuova catacomba di Via Latina (Monumenti di antichità Cristiana, ser. 2; no. 8) (Città del Vaticano: Pontif. Istituto di archeologia cristiana, 1960), pl. XXIV, 2. See also André Grabar, The Beginnings of Christian Art (London: Thames & Hudson, 1967), pl. 254; as well as Lieselotte Kötzsche-Breitenbach, Die neue Katakombe an der Via Latina in Rom. Untersuchungen zur Ikonographie der alttestamentlichen Wandmalereien, (Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum: Ergänzungsband 4) (Münster: Aschendorff, 1976), fig. 6a.‬‬

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In his commentary on Genesis 18:7, Rashi maintains that “there were three calves, so that he (Abraham) might feed them three tongues together with mustard.” Expounding on BT Hulin 133a, Rashi reiterates that this specific dish had the reputation of a great delicacy fit for “kings and princes.” Culinary diet and food feasting customs in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period varied considerably according to social status. Fish was available in areas by the sea or rivers, and was consumed either fresh or dried. Pork was widely available but prohibited by Jewish Law. Meat of various beasts, including sheep and goats, was a luxury reserved for affluent households, while fowl was a far more common commodity. Game was often the prize of the nobility and other wealthy landowners, who usually hunted it on their estates. Beef was not very commonly eaten because raising cattle was fairly labour-intensive, requiring pastures and feed. Moreover, oxen and cows were much more valuable as draught animals and for their milk than for their meat. Consequently, only the upper strata could afford the privilege of consuming beef. In this context, Abraham’s generosity seems all the more extraordinary. The tongue being one of the choice parts of the calf,261 the early commentators concluded that Abraham prepared a dish fit for kings for his three guests, serving it with mustard for flavouring, as was commonly done in the German-speaking realm.

Abraham’s Guests The biblical narrative does not disclose the identities of Abraham’s mysterious visitors. It uses the vague term ‫—אנָ ִשים‬men ֲ or people—to describe them. Yet, from the outset, the encounter appears to be weighted with a supernatural quality. The human character of the visitors is thereby interwoven with that of their divine nature and mission.262 Notably, despite the fact that the Bible labels them as “men,” in the visual rendering in the Nuremberg Miscellany they are all winged,

261 As stated by Melitta Weiss Adamson, Food in Medieval Times (Westport CT–London: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2004), 44. For an encompassing survey of food and drink in Germany in the Early Modern Period, see Ken Albala, Food in Early Modern Europe (Westport CT–London: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2003). See also Volker Bach, The Kitchen, Food, and Cooking in Reformation Germany (Lanham–Boulder–New York–London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016); as well as Melitta Weiss Adamson, “Medieval Germany,” in Regional Cuisines of Medieval Europe: A Book of Essays, ed. idem (New York–London: Routledge, 2002), 153–196. 262 The story begins with God appearing to Abraham, followed by dialogues on vv. 13–14 and 17–21, while the three visitors appear as protagonists in vv. 2–12, 16, and 22.

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and the one shown at the centre is also crowned. Neither attribute is mentioned in the biblical text (see Figure 46).263 Jewish tradition, however, considers the “men” as angels, God’s messengers in human disguise. The midrash teaches: Who were the three men? – Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Michael came to bring the tidings to Sarah [of Isaac’s birth]; Raphael, to heal Abraham; and Gabriel, to overturn Sodom. But is it not written, “And there came the two angels to Sodom at even[ing]”? Michael accompanied him to rescue Lot.” [The Writ] supports this too, for it is written, “And he overthrew those cities”, “not and they overthrew”: this proves it.264

The designation of the men as angels, in fact, draws upon the discrepancy between the description of the departure of the visitors, “Then the men set out from there, and they looked toward Sodom,”265 and that of their arrival in Sodom, “And there came the two angels to Sodom at even[ing].” It was hence surmised that “one angel does not perform two missions, nor do two angels together perform one mission.”266 This thesis is repeated in the writings of medieval Ashkenazi exegetes such as Rashi, who identifies the specific role of each of the three messengers in line with the Talmudic tradition.267 Later, this interpretation was adopted also by R. Solomon Ephraim of Luntshitz in his homiletic work 'Ir Gibborim,268 mentioned by the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany on fol. 2r, suggesting that he, or the patron, may have either personally owned a copy of the printed book or had access to it. 263 In Christian works of art showing the same theme, the messengers are often depicted with a nimbus, like saints. See, for example, the Cotton Genesis probably from Alexandria, dated to the fifth–sixth century. The manuscript is part of the collection of London, The British Library, MS Cotton Otho B VI, fol. 26v. On the manuscript, see Kurt Weitzmann and Herbert L. Kessler, The Cotton Genesis: British Library, Codex Cotton Otho B VI (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). The same is true for the Middle Ages, as in Peter Comestor, Bible Historiale, the work of an unknown French master, dated 1372, housed in The Hague, Museum Meermanno-Huis van het boek and Koninklijke Bibliotheek-Westreenianum, MMW, 10 B, fol. 23v. On the author, see Agenta Sylwan, ed., Petri Comestoris, Scolastica Historia. Liber Genesis (Corpus christianorum, Continuatio Mediaeualis CXCIII) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), X–XII. 264 BT Bava Metzia 86b. See also Genesis Rabbah 50:2; Midrash Tanḥuma to Parashat Vayyera, no. 4, s.v. ‫וירא‬, and elsewhere. 265 Gen 18:16. 266 Ibid. 19:1. See also Genesis Rabbah 48:9. 267 In his commentary on Gen 18:2, ‫ֹלשה ֲאנָ ִשים‬ ָ ‫וְ ִהנֵ ה ְש‬. The same view is expressed more explicitly by Rashi’s grandson, Rashbam (R. Samuel b. Meir, ca. 1080–ca. 1160), the north-French Tosafist, in his exegesis to Gen 18:1. 268 Editio princeps (Basel: [Israel Zifroni] Ambrosius Froben [Frobenius], 1580), nos. 68, 51–52. On Luntshitz’s ideas as expressed in 'Ir Gibborim, see Levin, Seeing with Both Eyes, passim.

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The illustration identifies the angels using inscriptions on a banderol flying above their heads. In accordance with their respective placement in the scene, it indicates their names and describes each angel’s mission in light of the midrash. To the right, Raphael sits on a three-legged chair, cutting with scissors what seems to be a dressing band, as his duty was to heal the ailing Abraham after his circumcision.269 The standing figure on the left, holding a halberd in his right hand,270 with a wheel-lock gun on his waistband,271 raises a green glass beaker in his left hand as if offering a toast. This is Gabriel,272 who later went to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. The third guest, Michael,273 is the most prominent of them all. His mission was to bring tidings to Abraham and Sarah. Utilising three types of artistic conventions, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany elevated Michael above his two fellow angels. On the iconographic level, he is the only one who dons an open coronet, visually illustrating the inscription above his head.274 The compositional scheme provides additional emphasis to

269 The etymology of the name Raphael (‫ ְ)ר ָפ ֵאל‬is a combination of the verbal root R.F.A (.‫א‬.‫פ‬.‫)ר‬ (heal) and the suffix ‘el (‫ )אל‬denoting God. The name therefore means “God, [please] heal.” 270 Although halberds were common primarily in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, they were still in use in the late sixteenth century. For such an object from Southern Germany, dated 1598, see Glaser, Wittelsbach, vol. II/2, no. 214a, 149 and photo on 150. The halberd is kept in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, no. W 962. See also the one made in Germany around 1580, Cleveland, The Cleveland Museum of Art, acc. no. 1919.58 (Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John L. Severance). 271 It is similar in form to other such weapons made in Nuremberg in the second half of the sixteenth century, like the ones currently in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. W 2784 and 2785, respectively. They are shown in Maué and Kupper, Treasures of German Art, 89. An earlier specimen was made in Nuremberg in the early sixteenth century, as was the one made by Hörelt and Hans Denzel after 1570, also kept in the same museum, Inv. No. W2035 and W2784, respectively. They are reproduced in Großmann et al., Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 200 and the other on 203. On the technology of the wheel lock, see Vernard Foley et al., “Leonardo, the Wheel Lock, and the Milling Process,” Technology and Culture 24, no. 3 (1983): 399–427. This sixteenth-century invention is described by Thomas F. Arnold, “The Wheel-Lock Gun,” Journal on Firearms and Public Policy 7 (1997): 7–12. Compare the gun owned by the Prince Elector Maximilian I, manufactured by Caspar Spät and Hieronymus Borstorffer only a few decades after the Nuremberg Miscellany, around 1635–1637. The gun is in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. W622, reproduced in Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 146. 272 Etymologically, Gabriel (‫יאל‬ ֵ ‫ )ּגַ ְב ִר‬is combined from the verbal root G.V.R. (.‫ר‬.‫ב‬.‫)ג‬, denoting strength, and the suffix ‘el (‫ )אל‬standing for “God.” The name means “God is mighty.” 273 Etymologically, Michael (‫=)מ ָיכ ֵאל‬ ִ mi (who is) + kha (like) + ‘el (God), namely “who is like God.” 274 ‫טֹובה ְל ָש ָרה‬ ָ ‫ׂשֹורה‬ ָ ‫ ְל ַב ֵּׂשר ְב‬/ ‫יכ ֵאל ָבא ְב ִת ְפ ֶא ֶרת ֲע ָט ָרה‬ ָ ‫( ִמ‬Michael came with the glory of a coronet to bring good tidings to Sarah). This tradition stands in stark contrast to some early Christian theologians, such as Augustine, who maintained that it was Jesus, or rather, the Trinity, who came to visit Abraham in Elonei Mamre. Augustine further stressed that “no one of whom is said to have stood prominently above the others, no one more than the others to have shone with

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Michael’s supremacy by the mere fact that his figure is on a significantly larger scale and forms the focal point of the group of the heavenly ambassadors. In placing Michael between the two other figures, the artist is following the literary tradition hinted to in Tsene-rene to Parashat Vayyera (Genesis 18:1–22:24), albeit without explicit reference to Michael, as follows: He [Abraham] told the senior among the angels, “I beg you, do not leave.” And if he would remain, the other two angels would not leave either. How did Abraham recognise the eldest? He understood that it must be the one who stood in the middle.275

The aforementioned North French Miscellany of 1277–1324 offers a different distinction between the three angels. Fol. 118r of the manuscript shows the angel on the left as the oldest of them all, wearing a beard as a sign of his seniority, thereby indicating that, according to tradition, he is Michael (see Figure 48a). The other heavenly visitors also bear features that designate their respective ages. The youngest and shortest of them all is Gabriel.276 Showing Michael with a coronet on his head in the Nuremberg Miscellany follows the verse from the book of Daniel, “At that time shall arise Michael, the great prince who has charge of your people.”277 In light of this passage, the midrash relates R. Ḥiyya’s interpretation to Abraham’s imploring words in Genesis 18:3. Attempting to explain the patriarch’s use of the singular form while approaching his three guests, he maintains that Abraham addressed the one he deemed most

greater glory, or to have acted more authoritatively.” See Augustine, On the Trinity, II, XVIII, 34. Cf. Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologiae cursus completus: series latina. Sive, Bibliotheca universalis, integra, uniformis, commoda, oeconomica, omnium SS. patrum, doctorum scriptorumque ecclesiasticorum qui ab aevo apostolico ad usuque Innocentii III tempora floruerunt (Paris: Excudebatur apud Migne, 1844–1891), vol. XLII, 868. An interesting visual example is the mosaic of the northern wall of the Church of St. Vitale in Ravenna of 526–548 CE, in which the angels are depicted in an egalitarian non-hierarchic manner, probably alluding to the Trinity. The earlier mosaic panel in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome of 432–440 CE is divided into two registers, both representing Abraham’s hospitality. While the lower register shows the haloed angels at the table in a manner similar to the iconography found later in St. Vitale, the upper register draws the distinction between them and emphasises the central figure in a glowing mandorla in addition to its halo, thus identifying it as Jesus. See Henry N. Claman, Jewish Images in the Christian Church. Art as the Mirror of the Jewish-Christian Conflict 200–1250 C.E. (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2000), pl. 4. 275 P. 80. 276 London, The British Library, Add. ms. 11639, fol. 118r. See Margoliouth, “Ancient Illuminated Hebrew MS,” 193–197, and reproduction after 193. 277 Daniel 12:1.

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distinguished of them, “And said: ‘My Lord, if now I have found favour in your sight.’ R. Ḥiyya taught: He said this to the greatest of them, namely Michael.”278 Midrash Genesis Rabbah reflects upon the manner in which Abraham first encountered his visitors. According to the midrash, Abraham observed his three guests with some reservation, not knowing whether they were worthy of his hospitality or not. Pursuant to R. Ḥanina’s statement that “the names of the months came up with us from Babylonia,” R. Simeon b. Laqish added: Also the names of the angels, Michael, Rafael, and Gabriel. R. Levi said: One appeared to him in the guise of a Saracen,279 the second in the guise of a Nabataean, and the third in the guise of an Arab. Said he: “If I [i.e. Abraham] see that the shekhinah (The Holy Presence) waits for them, I will know that they are worthy; and if I see that they pay respect to each other, I will know that they are distinguished.” And when he did see them pay respect to each other, he knew that they were distinguished.280

The Nuremberg Miscellany does not follow Genesis Rabbah and disregards the depiction of the angels as a Saracen, a Nabataean, and an Arab. For reasons unknown to us, perhaps due to his unfamiliarity with the specificities of the iconographic attributes of the three nationalities, the artist depicted all of them in contemporary garb. Be it as it may, he also distanced the image from Christian iconography – whether consciously or not – in which “the appearance of the three angels seated at the table stands for the Trinity; the meal symbolizes the Eucharist, and the table the Christian altar”, as explicated by Katrin Kogman-Apppel.281 The illustration shows Michael raising his left index finger. While he may be pointing at the inscription in the scroll above Raphael’s head, it is more likely that he is drawing attention to the large anthropomorphic sun shown at the top of the page.282 The simple literal reading of the Bible would connect this depic278 Genesis Rabbah 48:10. 279 Namely, a Midianite or a Muslim. In Christian writings, the interpretation of this description denotes “those empty of Sarah” or “not from Sarah,” implying Arabs who were descended from Hagar. The earliest datable reference to Saracens is found in the second century CE, in Ptolemy’s Geography, which describes “Sarakene” as a region in the Northern Sinai named after the town Saraka located between Egypt and the Land of Israel. 280 Midrash Rabbah, vol. 1: Genesis (translated under the editorship of H. Freedman and M. Simon) (London: Soncino, 1951), 411. 281 Kogman-Appel, “Christian Pictorial Sources,” 835. 282 This posture is reminiscent of another personage of eminence pointing upwards towards the sky. This is Melchior, one of the Magi, who is sometimes shown pointing to the Christmas star that is showing them the way to the manger. One such example is the sculpture of the Three Holy Kings, made of an oakwood by Tilman van der Bruch (known 1464–1512) in Cologne ca. 1490. It is housed in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. Pl.O 3286–3288, and reproduced in Maué and Kupper, Treasures of German Art, description on 56 and the image of Melchior on 57.

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tion with the words, “the Lord appeared to him [i.e. to Abraham] by the Oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day.”283 The Babylonian Talmud adds that Abraham’s encounter with his three visitors occurred on the third day after his circumcision. Aware of Abraham’s tendency to extraordinary hospitality, God made that day exceptionally hot, so as to deter the ailing man from rushing forth from his tent to seek wayfarers and guests, or, according to the Talmud, “God extracted the sun from its holster.”284 Expounding further on the exact time at which Abraham was circumcised, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer maintains that it was midday and the sun was at its zenith, on Yom Kippur.285 Either exegetic tradition, or the combination of the two, can account for the inclusion of the sun in the scene to convey the extraordinary heat of the day, yet not for its human facial features. A partial explanation of the anthropomorphism of the sun appears in a moralistic exposition in Genesis Rabbah which deals with the order of the primordial creation of light. Drawing a parallel between each phase in the process and one of the biblical ancestors, R. Judah b. R. Simeon interpreted: Said the Holy One, blessed be He: “How long shall the Universe go on in darkness? Let the light come.” God said: “Let there be light”: this alludes to Abraham, as it is written, “Who hath raised up one from the east, whom He calleth in righteousness to His foot.”286

Although R. Judah b. R. Simeon is not explicitly referring to the sun, this identification nonetheless arises from his exegesis that is founded on Genesis 1:5: “God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night . . .” The verse clearly equates “light” with day, and hence with the sun, while, by inference, associating darkness with “night” and the moon.287 Thus, the sun symbolises Abraham,

283 Gen 18:1. 284 BT Bava Metzia 81b. Cf. Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Vayyera §82, s.v. ‫כתיב אחרי‬. 285 Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Elie'zer, chap. 28, s.v. ‫הנס השמיני ויהי‬. See Friedlander, Pirke d’Rabbi Eli'ezer, 203–204: “Rabban said: Abraham sent and called for Shem, the son of Noah, and he circumcised the flesh of the foreskin of our father Abraham, and the flesh of the foreskin of Ishmael his son, as it is said: ‘In the selfsame day was Abraham circumcised, and Ishmael his son’ (Gen 17:26). ‘In the selfsame day’ (means) in the might of the sun at midday. Not only that, but (it indicates) the tenth day of the month, the Day of Atonement . . . Know then that on the Day of Atonement Abraham our father was circumcised.” 286 Genesis Rabbah 2:3, after Isa 41:2. Further, the Talmud adds another facet to the connection between Abraham and the sun. BT Bava Batra 16b tells that “R. Simeon b. Yoḥai said: Abraham had a precious stone hung round his neck which brought immediate healing to any sick person who looked upon it, and when Abraham our father departed from this world, the Holy One, blessed be He, suspended it from the orb of the sun.” 287 See also Genesis Rabbah 48:8.

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and the artist’s choice to add anthropomorphic features to the sun on fol. 3r of the Nuremberg Miscellany is a visual expression of this analogy.288 In a brief and direct manner, Pesikta Rabbati, a homiletic medieval midrash, expounds “The sun—this is our patriarch Abraham, who gladdens the whole world like the sun.”

The Oracle Heavenly Tree Jewish lore emphasises that Abraham took special care to ascertain the identity of his guests. One legend relates that he did not depend upon his own judgment in evaluating the character of his visitors, but turned for advice to an oracle tree planted by his tent.289 Perhaps this postulation derives from the similarity between two different loci connected with Abraham: the oak of Moreh (Gen 13:18) and the oak(s) of Mamre (Gen 14:13). Although some phonetic resemblance exists, the roots of the two words are not identical, and their meaning is quite different. Whereas Mamre (from the root .‫א‬.‫ר‬.‫ )י‬denotes awe, Moreh (from .‫ה‬.‫ר‬.‫ )י‬conveys the message of instructor or indicator – hence, through biblical hermeneutics, the tradition of the oracular tree evolved.290 This special tree of wisdom spread out its branches over all who believed in the God of Israel and afforded them shade. When idolaters sought its shelter, however, the branches turned upward, offering no comfort and casting no shadow upon the ground. Whenever Abraham saw this sign, he would at once set about to convert the worshippers of false deities. As part of his process of conversion, he requested that they immerse and purify themselves in a spring that flowed out by the roots of the miraculous tree. As was his habit, Abraham bade also the three mysterious men who passed by his tent in the heat of day to lean against the trunk of that tree, so that he could observe its judgment of their merit or unworthiness. This unique tree could also distinguish between the ritually clean and the unclean, And as the tree made a distinction between the pious and the impious, so—also—between the clean and the unclean. Its shade was denied them as long as they refrained from taking the prescribed ritual bath in the spring that flowed out from its roots, the waters of which

288 Thus also in Yalquṭ Shim'oni to I Kgs 176, s.v. ‫דבר אחר ישראל‬. 289 Zohar I:102b. 290 Dale C. Allison, Jr, “Abraham’s Oracular Tree,” Journal of Jewish Studies LIV, no.1 (spring, 2003), 51–61 discusses various traditions on the species and miraculous deeds of the tree, taking the Testament of Abraham as vantage point. These marvels, however, have very little to do with the identification of Abraham’s guests discussed here.

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rose at once for those whose uncleanness was of a venial character and could be removed forthwith, while others had to wait for seven days for the waters to come up.291

Although this midrash adds another level to the interpretation of the large-sized tree in the image, the spring is not part of the artist’s imagery for the iconography of the illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany.292 The oracle tree, referred to in the aforementioned midrash, calls to mind another tree of similar qualities: the Tree of Knowledge that grew in the Garden of Eden. The sages were in dispute as to the nature and botanical identification of the tree whose fruit “opened the eyes” of Adam and Eve.293 The Babylonian Talmud offers three theories regarding its forbidden fruit: “ . . . R. Meir holds that the tree of which Adam ate was the vine . . . R. Neḥemiah says it was the fig tree . . .294 R. Judah says it was wheat . . ..”295 Another documented discourse on this issue is found in Genesis Rabbah.296 R. Abba of Acre, cited there, is of the opinion that the tree bore the fruit of the etrog (citron, or Citrus medica).297 In Yalquṭ Shim'oni, all these views on the nature of the tree are listed in one successive exegesis, and an alternative statement by R. Joshua b. Levi maintains that its identity has never been disclosed and will never be revealed.298 The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany depicted two specimens of the etrog hanging from the tree on the left, just above Abraham’s head (see Figure 51). These are the ochre-coloured fruits whose outer surface is warty, with a piṭṭam

291 Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1968), vol. 1, 242. 292 Luntshitz, Kli Yaqar, commentary on Parashat Vayyera, fol. 15r, maintains that the reference to washing is actually a symbolic cleansing of the heart. The brownish coloring at the foot of the tree can hardly represent the spring, which the artist would have painted light blue–a color that he used elsewhere in the manuscript. 293 Gen 3:7. According to Christian belief, eating the forbidden fruit is the “Original Sin”—the Fall of Man. In fact, it was the disobedience of Adam and Eve, and not the fruit itself, that brought sin into the world of mankind. See, for example, Augustine of Hippo, On the Literal Meaning of Genesis (De Genesi ad litteram), VIII, 6.12 and 13.28, BA 49, 28 and 50–52; PL 34, 377. Cf. idem, De Trinitate, XII, 12.17; CCL 50, 371–372 [v. 26–31;1–36]; and De natura boni 34–35; CSEL 25, 872; PL 42, 551–572. 294 As in the North French Miscellany, London, The British Library, Ms. Add. 11639, fol. 118r (see Figure 48a). See Margoliouth, “Ancient Illuminated Hebrew MS,” 193–197. The image at hand is dealt with on 74–75 and its sequel, in which Sarah is shown in the “tent” and the announcement to Abraham of his upcoming fatherhood and two angels are taking leave to complete their missions, on fol. 118v, is referred to on 75. 295 BT Berakhot 40a. Cf. BT Sanhedrin 70b, and other places. 296 Genesis Rabbah 16:7. 297 Ibid. 20:8. 298 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Bereshit §21.

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or nipple protruding at their ends.299 Yet, not following any specific tradition laid down by one of the sages cited in the Talmud, the artist depicted not only the two fruit of the etrog, but also diverse kinds of fruit hanging from the miraculous tree, as if willing to appease all the different attempts to categorise it. While not conclusively identifiable, they seem to represent figs, nuts, and pears, although only the figs at the upper left side of the tree and the etrog, are explicitly cited in the midrashic sources known to us. Be the exact identification of the tree in the Nuremberg Miscellany and in the midrashic traditions as they may, the allusion to the Tree of Knowledge adds to the scene of Abraham and his guests a primeval, and at the same time also a messianic-eschatological layer. Other early sources maintain that Abraham entertained the heavenly messengers under the shade of another paradisiacal tree—the Tree of Life.300 Pereq Gan haḤayyim, an undated midrash of anonymous authorship, relates that the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden bore all the fruits in the world.301 Pesikta Zuṭrata suggests that the tree was a reward for the righteous as part of the food they will enjoy in the World to Come.302 This idea is further developed in Midrash Konen, also known as Adonai beḤokhmah Yasad Areẓ, which discusses the Creation, the heavens, the Garden of Eden (Paradise), and Gehenna (Hell). While Midrash Konen lists the righteous patriarchs who are enjoying the shade of the tree, it further maintains that it is also the dwelling place for the souls of the deceased, “and from the Tree of Life rise and descend the souls of the righteous in Paradise.”303 If, indeed, our artist was familiar with this medieval midrash, then perhaps the birds perched on the tree represent not only the legendary hoopoe but also the souls of the righteous.304 Whether the tree depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany is a representation of Tree of Life or the Tree of Knowledge is, in exegetical essence, immaterial.

299 The piṭṭam is also called piṭṭom, denoting the upper tip of the fruit, remnants of the flower, comprising stigma and style. 300 On the Tree of Life in Jewish thought, lore, and art, see Ameisenowa, “Tree of Life,” 326–345. Claiming that “the local Canaanite cult of Asheroth . . . has left its traces in the Genesis accounts of the sacred Terebinth in Mamra . . .,” Ameisenowa ibid., 329, is insinuating a notion of birth and renewal, not inappropriate to the narrative of the message carried by the heavenly emissaries to Abraham and Sarah. 301 As per ibid., 336. 302 The midrashic comment on Gen 2:9 (Buber). 303 Jellinek, Bet ha-Midrash, V, 63–69. The midrash is of an unknown date, presumably from the eleventh century or later. 304 This conjecture can be neither substantiated nor refuted. The editio princeps of the midrash was printed in Venice in 1601, although its content probably circulated in manuscript form or in oral folk tradition even earlier and thus been familiar to the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany.

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The message of the two harks back to the Garden of Eden and to the righteous who will, in the days to come, dwell there and enjoy the blessing of the tree’s fruit. Depicting the feast offered by Abraham to his guests, the artist seems to have drawn inspiration from one or some of these traditions coupled with that of the Feast of the Righteous that will be served in Paradise in the World to Come, the different menu in either meal notwithstanding. The theme was known in the iconography of Hebrew manuscripts from Ashkenaz in the Middle Ages, in which the special foods—the Leviathan, Behemot, and Ziz—were depicted. True, the sole extant illustration of the righteous actually enjoying the meal in its entirety is in the south German Ambrosiana Bible of 1236–1238,305 but in other Ashkenazi manuscripts the theme was depicted in an abbreviated form in which only the primeval messianic animals are shown.306 Indeed, the messianic repast may have enjoyed a much larger visual popularity in the iconography of Hebrew manuscripts from Ashkenaz than what has survived to date.307 Perhaps the most surprising interpretational reading of the tree in the scene of Abraham and his mysterious guests comes from an entirely different source: the sixteenth-century compilation of homiletic and exegetical sources Tsenerene. In colloquial Yiddish, Tsene-rene explicates the following at the beginning of Parashat Vayyera (Genesis 18:1–22:24): To the Prophets, God appeared from within fire, water or wind, or on the ground, as we see in many writings. However, in Abraham’s case, He appeared within a tree, as we learn from 305 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS B. 32 inf., fol. 136r. See Zofja Ameisenowa, “Das messianische Gastmahl der Gerechten in einer hebräischen Bibel aus dem XIII. Jahrhundert,” Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums LXXIX (1935): 409–422. See idem, “Die hebräische Handschrift Add. 11639 des British Museum,” Wiener Jahrbuch für Kunstgeschichte 24 (1971): 10–42 and figs. 1–3 after 16. Ameisenowa, however, ibid., 20, ascribes the three images of the messianic animals to a different hand than the one responsible for the majority of the manuscript. For a colour image of the Feast of the Righteous, see Narkiss, Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts, 90 and image on 91. On the motif of the three messianic animals in Christian thought and iconography, see Lois Drewer, “Leviathan, Behemoth and Ziz: A Christian Adaptation,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 44 (1981): 148–156. 306 See, for example, the Leipzig Maḥzor, Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/II, fol. 181v, which, however, portrays only the leviathan and the behemoth. It is reproduced by Joseph Gutmann, Hebrew Manuscript Painting (New York: George Braziller, 1978), pl. 26. 307 See further examples brought by Joseph Gutmann, “When the Kingdom Comes. Messianic Themes in Medieval Jewish Art,” Art Journal 27, no. 2 (Winter, 1967–1968): 170, figs. 4–6. See also idem, “Leviathan, Behemoth and Ziz: Jewish Messianic Symbols in Art,” Hebrew Union College Annual 39 (1968): 219–230. On the history of the primeval beasts in post-biblical Jewish literature, see Andreas Lehnardt, “Leviathan und Behemoth: mythische Urwesen in der mittelalterlichen jüdischen Tradition,” in Tiere und Fabelwesen im Mittelalter, ed. Sabine Obermaier (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009), 105–129.

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the words Elonei Mamre. God wanted to intimate to Abraham that just as an old tree still bears fruit, so would Abraham have children in his old age.

Although this reading sufficiently explains the presence of the tree in the scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany, highlighting the message of the three heavenly emissaries, it does not elucidate the iconographic specifics of the enormous tree with the hoopoes perched on it, or the diverse fruits that grow on it. Yet in the artist’s mind, this tradition may have mingled and merged with other midrashic sources that he knew. From all these traditions, he created his consolidated, multi-layered visual interpretation of the scene and of the tree in particular. Already the early midrash of Yalquṭ Shim'oni explores the righteousness of Abraham, founded on Jeremiah’s simile of the righteous man and his merits to a tree that does not wilt: Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.308

The Psalms offer a similar allegory, “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.”309 The exegesis of Yalquṭ Shim'oni describes the wondrous tree and its incredible traits as allegories for various stages in the life of Abraham.310 Yet, while the midrash does not refer specifically to the annunciation to Abraham and Sarah, it does mention the messengers’ visit as part of the discourse. It seems, therefore, that the allegorical trees in Jeremiah or the Psalms and their midrashic elucidations inspired the artist in illustrating the extraordinary tree under which the hospitality of Abraham took place, along with the other traditions that were familiar to him. Thus, the tree in the illustration carries multiple layers of midrash. It incorporates the depiction of the geographic allusion to Elonei Mamre and to the specific locus of Mount Moriah, with an intimation of the Temple and the messianic hope for its rebuilding. It furthermore alludes to the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, and to the messianic tree of the righteous as per Jeremiah and Psalms—all in one.

308 Jer 17:7–8. See the exegetical discussion and relevant visual representations in Ameisenowa, “Tree of Life.” 309 Ps 1:3. 310 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Jeremiah, hint 291, s.v. ‫והיה כעץ שתול‬.

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Unicorn: Harbinger of Parenthood At the bottom of fol. 3r, there are three additional pen-drawn illustrations. Due to the fragile state of the manuscript and the blurred unclear outline of the images, it is difficult to identify them with certainty.311 The one in the middle, however, is unmistakably a representation of a unicorn with its pale orange tongue jutting out (see Figure 54).312

Figure 54: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The history of the unicorn is obscure. It is first mentioned in Western culture in the fourth century BCE. The physician Ctesias from the Greek island of Cnidus travelled to the east in 416 BCE and recorded his impressions from India in a book entitled Indica. A fragmentary abstract of the work, created in the ninth century by Photius, patriarch of Constantinople, contains a detailed physical portrayal of the unicorn. The description of this fabulous creature was well known in the Middle Ages. Its first recorded appearance is in the Physiologus, a collection of didactic moralised beast tales by an anonymous Greek author. Various scholars date its composition to the second, third, or fourth century CE.313 In chapter 36, the author of 311 The image on the left resembles branches with orange blossoms. 312 Robert Brown, The Unicorn: A Mythological Investigation (London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1881). For ancient Jewish art and lore, see Paul Goldstein, “Unicorns, Uni-Capricorn, and Cornucopia: A Judaic Link?” The Shekel 37, no. 3 (2004): 12–18, dealing mainly with numismatics, seals, bullae, and amulets.‬ 313 Alan Scott, “The Date of the Physiologus,” Vigiliae Christianae 52, no. 4 (1998): 430–441. The book was translated into English by Michael J. Curley, Physiologus (Austin: University of

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the Physiologus describes the unicorn as a small animal, surprisingly fierce for its size, with one very sharp horn on its head. Because of its marvellous nature, hunters wished to capture it. A hunting party was therefore assembled at the castle of the local lord and all the guests set out for the hunt. But the unicorn was too fast, too wild, and too strong for the hunters to be able to seize it by force. As a last resort, they decided to trick the animal. They led a virgin maiden into an enclosed garden near the castle and left her sitting in the shade of an oak tree. As soon as the unicorn saw the virgin, it was immediately attracted to her and, seeking to escape the hunters, lay down peacefully with its head on her lap. She then caressed it to sleep, and the hunting party was able to capture it. In the course of the Middle Ages, the Greek tradition regarding the unicorn was introduced into Christian lore. Isidore of Seville, who was born in the latter half of the sixth century and died in 636, was the most influential Christian writer who integrated the legend of the unicorn into his Etymologiae, a twenty-volume encyclopaedia of all knowledge. Volume 12, entitled De animalibus, was dedicated to the animal world and had a great influence on the compilers of medieval bestiaries. In Book 12, XII.ii.11-ii.22, he provides a variation on the Physiologus, with insertions from Aristotle and Pliny: The rhinoceros (rhinoceron) is named with a Greek word; in Latin it means “horn on the nose.” This is also the monoceron, that is, the unicorn (unicornus), because it has a single four-foot horn in the middle of its forehead, so sharp and strong that it tosses in the air or impales whatever it attacks. It often fights with the elephant and throws it to the ground after wounding it in the belly. It has such strength that it can be captured by no hunter’s ability, but, as those who have written about the natures of animals claim, if a virgin girl is set before a unicorn, as the beast approaches, she may open her lap and it will lay its head there with all ferocity put aside, and thus lulled and disarmed it may be captured.314

Once appropriated into the Christian world, the symbolic depiction of the unicorn gradually entered its iconographic vocabulary. Its Christological significance was enhanced by the Church Fathers, who emphasised the unicorn’s physical strength, especially that of its horn.315 Due to its might, in the Early Christian period the Texas Press, 1979). On illustrated versions of the Physiologus, see Stavros Lazaris, “Quelques considérations sur l’illustration du Physiologus grec,” in Bestiaires médiévaux: Nouvelles perspectives sur les manuscrits et les traditions textuelles. Actes du XVe colloque international de la Société Internationale Renardienne, Louvain-la-Neuve, 18–22 août 2003, ed. Baudouin Van den Abeele (Louvain-la-Neuve: Université Catholique de Louvain 2005) (Textes, études, congrès 21), 141–167. 314 See the English translation by Stephen A. Barney et al., The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 252. 315 For more on the unicorn, see Joe Nigg, Wonder Beasts: Tales and Lore of the Phoenix, the Griffin the Unicorn, and the Dragon (Englewood, CO: Libraries Unlimited, 1995). The unicorn in

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unicorn was likened to Jesus, who, like the unicorn, can be tamed only by a virgin. It was taken to represent his invincibility, chastity, purity, strength, and humility.316 The maiden, in turn, became an emblematic allegory for Virgin Mary. Being white made it a natural symbol also for virginity. The hunters, who drove the unicorn to Mary, were taken to represent Gabriel, the angel of the Annunciation. The legend of the unicorn gained popularity in medieval bestiaries and, especially, in magnificent tapestries of the Gothic period.317 This motif was widespread also in folk art in later periods, such as in playing cards. To name but one example, Master ES, active in Germany around 1450–1467, used the image of a “Wild Woman and Unicorn” in one of the playing cards he designed.318 Similar works of art may have been known to the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, although he could have been exposed to such imagery also in other modes of visual expressions as well. The depiction of the unicorn in the Miscellany is startling in itself, but even more astonishing is its inclusion in the context in which it appears.319 The popularity of the tale in European culture leaves little doubt that the artist was exposed to it and deliberately chose to add it to the iconography of the Jewish archetype of the Annunciation—the messengers’ appearance to Abraham and Sarah, its Christian overtones notwithstanding. Sarah’s barrenness is thereby likened both to the maiden who tames the unicorn in the original tale and to Virgin Mary before she conceived in its Christian adaptation, and Gabriel, embodying the hunters, plays an important role in both traditions. Furthermore, the association between the medieval European culture is described in Jürgen W. Einhorn, Spiritalis unicornis: das Einhorn als Bedeutungsträger in Literatur und Kunst des Mittelalters (Munich: W. Fink, Einhorn, 1976). 316 See Lise Gotfredsen, The Unicorn (London: The Harvill Press, 1999), 31–39. 317 On the famous Gothic tapestries of the hunt of the unicorn, see John Williamson, The Oak King, the Holly King, and the Unicorn: The Myths and Symbolism of the Unicorn Tapestries (New York: Harper & Row, 1986); as well as the study of the tapestries in New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, by Margaret Beam Freeman, The Unicorn Tapestries (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1976). The South Netherlandish tapestry, dated 1495–1505, was gifted to the museum by of John D. Rockefeller Jr. in 1937, and bears the accession number 37.80.6. 318 New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Accession Number: 22.83.16. 319 The ‫( ַאּקֹו‬unicorn, according to one tradition) appears, among other examples, in Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS O154, fol. 48r. The unicorn features in the second half of the thirteenth century in Meshal haQadmoni (Proverb of the Ancients) by the poet, scholar, physician, and kabbalist R. Isaac ibn Sahula. The fifth chapter is dedicated to a dialogue between a unicorn and a ram. This tradition does not seem to be related to the haggadic motif that plays a role in the iconography of the Nuremberg Miscellany. On the unicorn in Jewish art, see Piet van Boxel. “The Virgin and the Unicorn: A Christian Symbol in a Hebrew Prayer Book.” In Crossing Borders: Hebrew Manuscripts as a Meeting-Place of Cultures, edited by Piet van Boxel and Sabine Arndt, 57–68 (Oxford: Bodleian Library, 2009).

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maiden, the unicorn, and the oak tree under which she is sitting—according to the original lore—seems more than suggestive of the artist’s train of thought, harking back to Elonei Mamre, where the biblical scene takes place. Interestingly, however, the unicorn appears beneath the table that is laid for the messengers and not next to Sarah, although it is facing her and its horn is pointed in her direction. The artist had further grounds to associate the unicorn with the foretelling of Abraham and Sarah’s future parenthood. An animal called re’em (‫ ְ)ר ֵאם‬is mentioned several times in the Hebrew Bible,320 often as a metaphor representing strength, as, for example, in Jacob’s blessing for Manasseh.321 Later, the midrash offers legendary interpretations of its physique and its role in the world. One tradition sees in it a one-horned ox and relates that when Adam realised that the world had a daily routine of morning and evening, he sacrificed such an animal in gratitude.322 Other interpreters ascribe to it a supernatural size. Thus, for example, in various accounts of the animals that entered Noah’s ark, one version has it that the pair of unicorns could not fit in, but on the other hand, they were in no danger of the deluge thanks to their height.323 Even more often, though, the unicorn was identified as the ‫( ָת ַחש‬taḥash).324 This was a legendary kosher desert creature with a single horn and a coat of many colours, which played a significant role in the wanderings of the Israelites in the desert, as its skin was used to cover or wrap sacred parts of the Tabernacle for transport.325 Presumably, this concept intrigued the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany in associating the unicorn with the scene of Abraham and his guests and the tidings they brought to the ageing couple. Like the shamir worm, so did the “Jewish unicorn”—the taḥash—have a specific designated role in the history of humankind, and once its role was over, it vanished. The Babylonian Talmud provides an instructive passage to that effect:

320 In Num 23:22, 24:8; Deut 33:17; Isa 34:7; Job 39:9–12; and Ps 22:21, 29:6, 92:10. 321 Deut 33:17. See Genesis Rabbah no. 2, s.v. ‫באותות‬. In the Septuagint, re’em is translated as “monoceros,” namely “unicorn,” while the Latin Vulgate explicitly translates it as “unicornis.” 322 BT Avodah Zarah 8a. 323 Thus, for example, according to Rashi in his exegesis to BT Zevachim 113b, s.v. ‫נעשה נס‬, following in the footsteps of the midrash in Genesis Rabbah, no. 31, s.v. ‫ומכל החי‬. Both sources maintain, though, that the offspring of the re’em joined the other animals in the ark and were thus saved. See, however, the view stated by R. Neḥemiah in BT Zevachim, loc. cit. See also Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Noaḥ §54, s.v. ‫ואל אמה תכלנה‬, as well as and Noaḥ §55, s.v. ‫זכר ונקבה יהיו‬. 324 Mentioned in Exod 25, 26, 35, 36, 39; Num 4; and Ezek 16:10. 325 Ecclesiastes Rabbah 1:28.

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What is our conclusion with respect to the taḥash which existed in Moses’ days? Said R. 'Elai in the name of R. Simeon b. Laqish: R. Meir used to maintain, the taḥash of Moses’ day was a separate species, and the Sages could not decide whether it belonged to the genus of wild beasts or to the genus of domestic animals. And it had one horn in its forehead. And it came to Moses’ hand [providentially] just for the occasion, and he made the [covering of the] Tabernacle, and then it was hidden.326

Evidently, this legend was very popular in Jewish lore, as it is mentioned numerous times also in other early sources and could therefore have been known to the artist of the Miscellany.327 The taḥash, then, not only echoes the shamir that is climbing on the Tree of Knowledge or Tree of Life in that exegetically both had a designated role in universal history. Moreover, the taḥash, too, forms a link between the Temple, built on the site of Abraham’s circumcision, and the Tabernacle—its predecessor in the nomadic days of the People of Israel paving their way from the bondage of Egypt to its nascent nationhood.328 An additional layer of interpretation derives from a printed book that is almost contemporary with the Nuremberg Miscellany. The taḥash-unicorn appears in Simeon haLevi Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh (Book of Customs) in Yiddish, printed by Giovanni di Gara in Venice in 1593, in an entirely different context than that of the Miscellany. Fol. 44v contains a panel showing the zodiac sign and labour of the month of Elul (‫)אלּול‬ ֱ (see Figure 55).329 Beside wine barrels, the left-hand side of the panel shows a unicorn resting its head on the lap of a woman—a maiden— with the sun shining above. Influenced by Greco-Roman mythological lore that regained popularity in the Middle Ages, the woodcut artist adopted the unicorn as an attribute of the zodiac sign of Virgo.330

326 BT Shabbat 28b. 327 It is mentioned again in the Tosafot to Hullin 59b, s.v. ‫ ;וקרש‬Numbers Rabbah §6, s.v. ‫לבית‬ ‫ ;אבותם‬and in Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Terumah §364, s.v. ‫ויקחו לי אמר‬. 328 For a messianic charge of the unicorn in Jewish lore, which seems to have no bearing on the present image in the Nuremberg Miscellany, see Marc Michael Epstein, “‘The Horn of His Anointed:’ From History to Eschatology,” in idem, Dreams of Subversion, 105–112. 329 Elul, roughly equivalent to August-September, is the sixth month of the Jewish biblical year, counting from Nisan. A comprehensive study of the Jewish calendar is by Sacha Stern, Calendar and Community: A History of the Jewish Calendar Second Century BCE–Tenth Century CE (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). 330 The zodiac and labours of the months panels were taken over by Giovanni di Gara from earlier imprints. See Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “How Italian are the Venice Minhagim of 1593? A Chapter in the History of Yiddish Printing in Italy,” in Schöpferische Momente des Europäischen Judentums in den frühen Neuzeit, ed. Michael Graetz (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter, 2000), 198–203. See, for comparison, the ca. 1460 tapestry of “The Hunt for the Unicorn” from

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 163

Figure 55: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 44v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

The association of the virgin with the month of Elul resonates also in the hafṭarah for the second day of Rosh haShanah (New Year), a festival that begins at the end of Elul and marks the commencement of the Jewish year on the first day of the month of Tishrei.331 The reading from the Prophets comes from the book of Jeremiah, 31:1–19. In this passage, the word “virgin” (or “maiden”) occurs twice, but more importantly, the text deals with Rachel, for long a childless woman who was finally blessed with two sons, Joseph and Benjamin.332 Recalling this reading and the universal visual symbol of virginity—the unicorn—the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany broadened its symbolism even further by projecting it onto one of the earliest childless mothers, Sarah, who was finally blessed with a son.

Franconia in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. T1690, reproduced (detail only) in Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 66. 331 Originally, the agricultural and ecclesiastical Jewish year began in the spring month of Nisan (coinciding with March-April), and the dates of the festivals were stated according to their ordinal number in the Bible. The first of Nisan marks the beginning of Jewish national history with the Exodus from Egypt. In ancient times it served as the pivot for counting the years of reign of the kings. The first of Tishrei, the seventh month according to the biblical count, was initially “a day of solemn rest, a memorial proclaimed with blast of trumpets, a holy convocation.” (Lev 23:24). After the destruction of the Second Temple, it was pronounced by the rabbis as the beginning of the civil year. Other “new years” are mentioned in M Rosh Hashanah 1:1. 332 “Thus says the Lord: ‘A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are not.’ Thus says the Lord: ‘Keep your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears; for your work shall be rewarded, says the Lord, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. There is hope for your future, says the Lord, and your children shall come back to their own country’” (Jer 31:14–16).

Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions A Psalm of David Marking the beginning of the liturgical part of the manuscript, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany created a magnificent archway surrounding the text of Psalm 23 (see Figure 56). It serves as a secondary title page and an entranceway to the “interior” part of the oeuvre, as a pivot between the world of the moralistic introduction and the major corpus of the book, dedicated mainly to prayer, worship, and custom. This gateway, though, is of a formal concept similar to what the artist designed in the prolegomenon of the book, in fols. 1v-2v, in which the text of each page is inscribed inside its own arch, thus highlighting its special importance. By repeating the same compositional formula, he is emphasising the unity of the book as one whole message.1 In its elaboration and composition,

Figure 56: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 1 Despite the fact that the opening quire of the manuscript was created separately, but in close temporal proximity to the main body of the book, as argued In the conclusion. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-007

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 165

mainly in the inclusion of the animal bases, the arch on fol. 3v compares best with the one at the very beginning of the tome, on fol. 1v. Flanking the text on either side is a double-tiered twisted column, painted in red, ochre, and green, in a responsive composition. Around the middle of each column, a stylised “cushion” separates between the lower and upper parts, while a similar device rests under each of the turreted capitals. The semi-circular arch at the top has a petal design flanked by an interlacing pattern. The composite structure of the arch rests on the heads of two crowned crouching lions, facing the spectator, with their tails raised vertically. Above the capitals, two multi-coloured fantastic birds are standing with their necks intertwined in a complex Celtic knot, their heads facing backwards.2 They seem to be composed of wild hens, peacocks, and perhaps some other species. Their identification is particularly difficult because the top of the page had been cut off in the course of a later binding, as is the bottom of the page as well. The birds seem all the more hybrid due to the vegetation issuing from their tails, thereby totally ruling out a realistic portrayal. It is therefore more than plausible that from the outset the artist did not attach a particular meaning the strange-looking fowl rather than aesthetic embellishments of form and colour. As such, this detail is in line with similar motifs of Romanesque and Gothic Hebrew manuscripts following a fashion that was in vogue in every form of contemporary art in the non-Jewish world as well.3 The large-sized initial word ‫( ִמזְ מֹור‬mizmor, Hebrew for Psalm) is an intricate work of art in its own right. Presenting graphic patterns known from Gothic manuscripts, Latin and Hebrew alike, the letters on fol. 3v offer a special twist. Some of them display anthropomorphic and zoomorphic inclusions that blend with the folded-ribbon pattern of the letter. Bearing no particular iconographic message, these animated letters add humour to the letters composing the initial word.4 Anthropomorphic and zoomorphic letters are common in Hebrew manuscripts, mainly from medieval Spain. From Mozarabic art of the ninth to eleventh centuries, this form of lettering entered the art of the Hebrew book. One of the most intricate examples of such a decorative device in the Jewish realm comes from the Cervera Bible (see Figure 57). Copied by Samuel b. Abraham

2 Similar Celtic knots, yet not as complex, form the capitals of the arch on fol. 2r. 3 Of the numerous surviving examples of the art of the Hebrew book, see the upper part of the initial word panel in the Tripartite Maḥzor from Southern Germany, volume III, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Ms. Michael 619, fol. 130r. The leaf is reproduced in Gold, Sign and Witness, 138. 4 See, for a general survey, Otto Mazal. Buchkunst im Wandel der Zeiten, Bd. 1: Buchkunst der Gotik. Graz: Akademische Druck und Verlagsanstalt, 1975. The animal, avian, and hybrid heads can hardly account for depictions of the “foes” mentioned here in the text.

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ibn Nathan, the Bible bears not only a scribe’s colophon, but also presents a rare instance of an artist’s colophon, which occupies the entire text space of fol. 449r. The artist, Joseph the Frenchman, signed his name in a sequence of pen-drawn and lightly coloured letters that are composed of humanoid figures, fauna, and vegetal motifs arranged in five registers comprising the framed colophon. They exemplify his deftness and the pride he took in his accomplishments in the Bible, which he illustrated in Cervera and Tudela, Castile, and completed in 1299–1300.5

Figure 57: Cervera Bible, Cervera and Tudela, Spain, 1299–1300, fol. 449r [Lisboa, Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Ms. Hebr. 72]

A similar artistic concept is presented in the colophon of the First Kennicott Bible (La Coruña, 1476). Probably directly influenced by the workmanship and precision of Joseph the Frenchman and his colophon, the artist of the First Kennicott Bible immortalised his name in similar anthropomorphic and zoomorphic letters, albeit in his own style and in keeping with contemporary fashion (see Figure 58).6 5 The manuscript is now in Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Ms. Hebr. 72, and the colophon is on fol. 449v. 6 First Kennicott Bible: Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Kennicott 1, fol. 447r. See Bezalel Narkiss, A Catalogue Raisonné, Vol. 1: The Spanish and Portuguese Manuscripts (Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities / London: The British Academy, 1982), pl. CLI,

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Figure 58: First Kennicott Bible, La Coruña, Galicia, Spain, 1476, fol. 447r [Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Kennicott 1]

Other artists took a liking to such letters as well, producing more or less ornate compositions. The recurring phenomenon in medieval Hebrew manuscripts from the Iberian Peninsula in which the same kind of decorated initial letters suggests that they reflect a fashion that was in vogue at the time.7 Elaborate initial letters incorporating bestial, hybrid, or humanoid motifs were common also in Ashkenaz. In most cases, however, these decorations remained within the confines of the letter as an applied ornament rather than as components actually constructing the letter. A well-known case in point comes from the Kaufmann Mishneh Torah penned by Nathan b. Simeon haLevi, probably in Cologne in 1296–1298, and illustrated in the German Gothic style with a significant resemblance to contemporary French Gothic manuscripts. In the manuscript, the no. 462. The same phenomenon recurs in the manuscript in signs marking the beginnings of some pericopes. 7 For example, the mnemonic sign for the Passover Seder was fashioned in such a manner in the Mocatta Haggadah from Castille, London, The British Library, ML, MS 1, fol. 19r, reproduced in Narkiss, Manuscripts in the British Isles, vol. 1, Pl. XXII, no. 106. The same is true for the initial word for the “Son who does not know how to ask” in the Golden Haggadah from Barcelona, ca. 1320, London, The British Library, Add. 27210, fol. 31r, reproduced op. cit., Pl. XLIII, no. 143, and there are numerous other examples.

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letters comprising the initial word of Book VII, for example, alternate between burnished gold and letters that contain anthropomorphic and zoomorphic decorations alongside vegetal motifs.8 Likewise, the initial word lefikhakh (‫יכְך‬ ָ ‫)ל ִפ‬ ְ in the Yahuda Haggadah from mid-fifteenth century southern Germany is composed entirely of such letters (see Figure 59).9

Figure 59: Yahuda Haggadah, Southern Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r (detail) [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. 180/50; B55.01.0109]. (Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama)

In other Ashkenazi manuscripts, anthropomorphic and zoomorphic motifs are drawn (or painted) in the spare-ground technique, in which the images are left uncoloured and reveal the parchment background, or in outline.10 This trend in fashioning initial letters transcended also into the printed book and thus became more widely known to Jewish patrons and artists alike. Probably borrowed from earlier books and printed in secondary use, the initial word barukh (‫)ּברּוְך‬ ָ on fol.

8 Budapest, Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Kaufmann Collection, Ms. A77/I–VI. The image referred to is in vol. I, fol. 118r, reproduced by Narkiss, Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts, 101, pl. 30, and description on 100. 9 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. 180/50; B55.01.0109, fol. 2r, op. cit., 123, plate 41, and description on 122. See also the Ashkenazi Haggadah [Uri Feibush Haggadah], Southern Germany, ca. 1460–1475, London, The British Library, Add. Ms. 14762, fol. 37v. A detail of the image appears in Goldstein, Hebrew Manuscript Painting, 53. 10 As demonstrated, for example, in the fifteenth-century Oppenheimer Siddur, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. O776, fol. 89r, in van Boxel and Arndt, Crossing Borders, 78. See also the Pentateuch with massorah, hafṭarot, megillot, and other texts made in Brabant, Brussels in 1310, Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Levy 19, fol. 549r. See a detail of the illustration in Metzger, Jewish Life, 35, fig. 49.

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 169

29r in the Prague Haggadah of 1526, published by Gershom Cohen (Katz) and his brother Gronem, for example, boasts such decorative letters (see Figure 60).

Figure 60: Prague Haggadah, Prague: Gershom and Gronem Katz, 1526, fol. 29r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library,   postink-heb-97b]

It is therefore not surprising to find them also in an Early Modern manuscript such as the Nuremberg Miscellany. Beneath the initial word, the text of Psalm 23 (fols. 3v-4r) is inscribed in largescale Ashkenazi square script reserved for most of the major texts in the manuscript. Like many psalms and other biblical texts, Psalm 23 has become part of Jewish liturgy.11 The circumstances that led to its inclusion in the prayer book are vague, but must predate the tenth century when it was already part of the Karaite service as proven by a number of genizah fragments.12 One of these fragments

11 Psalm 23 is incorporated also into various funerary and mourning liturgies. On the psalm and its textual analysis, see Julian Morgenstern, “Psalm 23,” Journal of Biblical Literature 65, no. 1 (1946): 13–24. 12 The controversy over the inclusion of this prayer among the Karaites and the Rabbinites was studied by Naphtali Wieder, “A Benediction Quoted by the Karaite Scholar Ya'qub al-Qirqisani,” in idem, The Formation of Jewish Liturgy in the East and the West. A Collection of Essays (Jerusalem: Ben-Zvi Institute for the Study of Jewish Communities in the East / The Hebrew University

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specifies explicitly that on Shabbat and a festival (Yom Ṭov), the liturgical order should incorporate the recitation of “A psalm of David. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”13 In rabbinic Judaism, this addition is documented for the first time in the fourteenth-century Kol Bo, a compendium of Jewish ritual and civil laws composed by an anonymous author, although its roots may be earlier.14 This custom, further set forth by the kabbalists of Safed, was prevalent in Mediterranean Jewish communities from the sixteenth century and became widespread among mainstream Ashkenazi communities as well.15 Psalm 23 is commonly recited after the evening prayer ('arvit or ma'ariv in Hebrew) on Shabbat Eve, and has eventually found its way into the corpus of hymnal additions (zmirot) that embellish the home celebration of the Shabbat day itself. Once accepted into the ritual, Psalm 23 was introduced into the liturgy on various other occasions, mainly during Passover.16 As a declaration of faith in God and His salvation, Jewish lore has assigned to this particular psalm apotropaic powers to avert demons who attempt to harm human beings in their sleep. Hence, its addition also to the texts recommended for recital before slumber at night, along with incantations uttered in order to ward off evil spirits.17 In Ashkenaz, Psalm 23 was typically recited prior to the Grace after Meals, as part of the home liturgy for the “Third Meal” (‫יׁשית‬ ִ ‫עּודה ְׁש ִל‬ ָ ‫)ס‬ ְ taken on Saturday afternoon. Among the authorities describing this custom are R. Ẓidqiyah b. Abraham Harofé (ca. 1210–1275), in his Shibbolei haLeqeṭ.18 Of Italian origin, the author studied under R. Avigdor Katz, R. Daniel of Rome, and R. Jacob of Würzburg. His rabbinic rulings took shape at least partially in Ashkenaz, reflecting the instruction and customs of his teachers, disciples of the Tosafists of of Jerusalem, 1998), 242–252 (Hebrew). The Karaite Al-Qirqisani flourished in the first half of the tenth century. 13 Cambridge University Library, TS NS 271/16, published loc. cit., 242–243. 14 Kol Bo, §39. The first dated printed edition is Constantinople: [n.p.], 1519, with a number of subsequent editions published in the first half of the sixteenth century. 15 Wieder, “Benediction,” 245. 16 As mentioned, for example, by R. Isaac b. Jacob Alfasi haCohen (known also by his Hebrew acronym Rif, 1013–1103) of Morocco and Spain in his commentary on BT Pesahim 26b. A similar tradition is handed down by R. Eli'ezer b. Yosef haLevi of Bonn (acronym Ra’avya, ca. 1140–1225) in his commentary on BT Pesahim §525, s.v. ‫ובסדר רב‬, quoting Rav Amram Ga’on. It is also referred to by R. Asher b. Yehi'el (known also as Asheri or by the Hebrew acronym the Rosh, 1250 or 1259–1327), who flourished in Germany and subsequently moved to Spain, in his commentary on BT Pesahim 10, §33. This custom is mentioned later also in Eastern Europe by the renowned rabbi and Talmudist Samuel Eidels (acrosticated Maharsha, 1555–1631), in his commentary on the Talmud, Ḥiddushei Halakhot to Pesahim 108a, s.v. ‫שהקב´ה יושב ברומו‬. 17 As per Siddur Rashi §429. 18 Sibbolei haLeqeṭ, Issues of the Shabbat, §93.

Reciting the Benediction over Bread 

 171

Ashkenaz and France. His book, written in Rome, is not an original halakhic essay, but rather a compilation of laws taken from the major works of the Early Sages (Rishonim) available at that time, suggesting an early origin of the tradition. The ritual of the Third Meal comes from the following Talmudic discussion: Our Rabbis taught: How many meals must one eat on Shabbat? Three. R. Ḥidqa said: Four. R. Yoḥanan observed, both expound the same verse: “And Moses said, Eat that today; for today is a Shabbat unto the Lord: today you shall not find it in the field.”19 R. Ḥidqa holds: These three “todays” are [reckoned] apart from the evening; whereas the Rabbis hold, they include [that of] the evening.”20

Some rabbinic commentators conjecture that the requirement to consume three meals lends a special measure of honour to the Shabbat, since the normative practice at the time was to eat only two meals in the course of a weekday: one during the day and one at night.21 Later rabbinic sources therefore list great spiritual rewards for eating this third meal and state that it is as important as all the meals together.22 Interestingly, the Nuremberg Miscellany places Psalm 23 at the opening of fols. 3v-4r, before the meal, immediately preceding haMoẓi’, namely the Benediction over Bread recited prior to every major meal, whether mid-week or festive. A drawing of a manicule pointing at the benediction in the inner margin to the right of the text-space is probably a later addition.

Reciting the Benediction over Bread Following the last verses of Psalm 23 and the Benediction over Bread (haMoẓi’), a secondary text in the left and lower parts of the text-space on fol. 4r is inscribed in semi-cursive script. It is separated from the main body of the text by a decorative band set at a right angle (see Figure 61). In a paraphrased and abbreviated form, it is a discourse on the prescribed handling of bread, the ritual preceding its consumption and the liturgy recited on that occasion. It begins with the rulings of the Ben-

19 Exod 16:25. 20 BT Shabbat 117b. 21 Oded Borowski, Daily Life in Biblical Times (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 73–74. 22 On nutrition in the Middle Ages, see Bridget Ann Henisch, Fast and Feast: Food in Medieval Society (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1978 [© c1976]); C. M. Woolgar, “Food and the Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History 36, no. 1 (2010): 1–19. The importance of spices in medieval gastronomy is discussed by Paul Freedman, “Some Basic Aspects of Medieval Cuisine,” Annales Universitatis Apulensis, Series Historica 11, no. 1 (2007): 44–60, especially 50–51 and 55–56.

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ediction over Bread before every major meal, starting with the precept that it must be recited over bread baked from any of the Five Species of Grain indigenous to the Land of Israel, namely wheat, barley, spelt, oats, and rye.23 It then continues with an extended discourse on the significance and symbolism of the Benediction over Bread and draws a parallel between the ten words comprising it and the ten miẓvot related to bread, which the compiler then itemizes. Carrying this analogy a step further, he indicates that it is customary to represent visually the ten words and the ten miẓvot by placing one’s ten fingers on the loaf while reciting the benediction.

Figure 61: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud introduced a blessing before partaking of any food, considering it sacrilegious to “enjoy [the benefits of] this world without a prior benediction.”24 Failure to recite a benediction over food before its consumption is considered tantamount to “defrauding the Almighty.”25 M. Berakhot 6:1 provides the foundation of these blessings, explicitly singling out bread,26 which is considered the major nutritional element virtually representing food in general, for which a special benediction exists:27

23 M. Menachot 70a and BT Menachot 70b. 24 BT Berakhot 35a. See later the rulings for the kiddush on Shabbat in Amram Ga'on, Seder Raw Amrom Gaan (sic!) (Warsaw: Drukarni Ch. Kelterá & Spózki, 1865), 26, and further reference regarding the Seder ritual on 39–40. 25 Tosefta, Berakhot 4:1. 26 As per Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 177, the supremacy of bread over all other types of food is exemplified by the fact that in a meal, one is exempt from reciting other benedictions once haMoẓi’ over bread has been said and a morsel the size of an olive has been consumed. The Sages further elaborated on this issue in BT Berakhot 50b, maintaining that bread must be treated with greater respect and care than other foodstuffs. 27 The same applies to wine, the “fruit of the grape,” according to M. Berakhot 6:1.

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What blessing must be said for fruit . . .? For fruits growing on the earth say “[Blessed are You, Lord, our God, Ruler of the Universe,] who creates the fruit of the earth,” except for bread, over which one recites the benediction; “[Blessed are You, Lord, our God, Ruler of the Universe,] who brings forth bread from the earth.”

The quoted Benediction over Bread derives from the verse in Psalm 104:14, “Who causes grass to spring up for the cattle, and herb for the service of man; to bring forth bread out of the earth.” In Hebrew, this blessing is popularly known as haMoẓi’ (lit. “who brings forth”), coined after the first word of the blessing. In Jewish law, breaking bread is of utmost liturgical importance, marking the meal as a substantial feast with a special significance. If the bread consumed is baked from one or more of the aforementioned five species of grain, it requires a ritual hand washing (Neṭilat Yadayim) before the meal and recitation of haMoẓi’ as well as that of The Grace after Meals at its conclusion.28 As a major commodity and source of nutrition, the Bible names ten Divine positive and negative commandments concerning production of bread: 1. Not to plough with an ox and an ass together29 2. Not to sow different seeds together30 3. To permit gleanings by the poor31 4. To leave forgotten sheaves in the field for the poor32 5. To leave a corner of the field unharvested for the poor33 6. Not to muzzle an ox while threshing34

28 The tradition of reciting a blessing after a meal is based on the Talmud, which expounds on Deut 8:10: “And thou shalt eat and be satisfied, and bless the Lord thy God for the good land which He hath given thee.” BT Berakhot 48b cites the four main blessings of the Grace after Meals. They are referred to only by their incipits and concluding line while the complete wording of the blessings is not explicitly rendered. Traditionally, the first blessing is attributed to Moses, the second to Joshua, the third to David and Solomon, and the fourth to the rabbis from Yavneh. In recent times, these brief Talmudic versions have served as a precedent for shortened versions of the Grace after Meals. When bread is not eaten in the meal, a different blessing, the Brakhah Aḥaronah or the “Last (Post-Meal) Blessing,” is said. It is an abbreviated version of the Grace after Meals, touching on all its themes, but with fewer blessings. This shortened text can be found in most benedictionals specially devised for the Grace after Meals that contain the various options for recital of the blessing on different occasions as well as other festive songs that embellish the meal. 29 Deut 22:10. 30 Ibid. 22:9. 31 Lev 19:9. 32 Deut 24:19. 33 Lev 19:9. 34 Deut 25:4.

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 Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions

To make the heave-offering35 To give the first tithe36 To give the second tithe37 To separate ḥallah from the dough of the bread38

Jewish tradition finds symbolism also in ten Hebrew words taken from various biblical verses pertaining to food and to God’s blessing of bounty. One of them is the verse: “The eyes of all look to thee, and thou givest them their food in due season.”39 Another ten-word (Hebrew) verse enumerates the Seven Species with which the Land of Israel was blessed: “A land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey.”40 Finally, we find a blessing for plenty in the words of Isaac to Jacob in Genesis 27:28, which also holds ten Hebrew words, “May God give you of the dew of heaven, and of the fatness of the earth, and plenty of grain and wine.”41 The Benediction over Bread equally comprises ten Hebrew words, in accordance with the ten directives pertaining to the production of bread: ‫ּמֹוציא ֶל ֶחם ִמן‬ ִ ‫עֹולם ַה‬ ָ ‫ֹלהינּו ֶמ ֶלְך ָה‬ ֵ ‫ְּברֹוְך ַא ָּתה ה´ ֱא‬ ‫“—ה ָא ֶרץ‬Blessed ָ art thou, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.”42 As a visual reminder of the ten Divine Commands concerning bread, perhaps also of the aforementioned biblical verses as well, it became customary to place both hands and all ten fingers upon the loaf while reciting haMoẓi’. Maharil (R.  Jacob b. Moses Möllin, ca. 1365–1427) suggests a different, more practical manner of holding the bread. It is told of him that every eve of Shabbat and festival, he used to prepare a thin “cake” (i.e., bread) of semolina (coarse wheat) over which to recite haMoẓi’. As the bread was thin, it did not necessitate preliminary partial

35 Num 15:19. 36 Ibid. 18:2. 37 Ibid. 15:21. 38 M. Ḥallah 1:1. In biblical times, the ḥallah was the portion of dough assigned to the priests in accordance with Num 15:17–21: “. . . When you come into the land to which I bring you and when you eat of the food of the land, you shall present an offering to the Lord. Of the first of your coarse meal you shall present a cake as an offering . . . Of the first of your coarse meal you shall give to the Lord an offering throughout your generations.” Following this tradition, it is customary to this day to separate a portion of the bread before it is baked. See also Shulḥan 'Arukh §167, 4. 39 Ps 145:15. 40 Deut 8:8. 41 ‫ּומ ְׁש ַמּנֵ י ָה ָא ֶרץ וְ ר ֹב ָּדגָ ן וְ ִתיר ֹׁש‬ ִ ‫ֹלהים ִמ ַּטל ַה ָּׁש ַמיִ ם‬ ִ ‫וְ יִ ֶּתן ְלָך ָה ֱא‬. 42 One of the early sources from Ashkenaz that deals with the ten-fold benediction over bread and its comparison with the ten labours connected with its production is found in the fourteenth century in Sefer Kol Bo §24.

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cutting before uttering the blessing and the subsequent act of breaking the bread. Maharil used to “place his eight fingers atop on it, and the two thumbs under it, bless haMoẓi’, and at the end of the blessing bend it from bottom to top until it broke.”43 Placing the hands on the bread during the recitation of haMoẓi’ is more than symbolic; it is emblematic.44 It is a reminder of the biblical stipulations and prohibitions pertaining to the reaping of wheat, some of which have a pronounced social value. At the same time, it emphasises the dependence of humankind on God’s sustenance and His blessing of copiousness, as it is said: “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof . . .” (Psalms 24:1). The scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany was familiar with this tradition and included it in his discourse in semi-cursive script to the left of the text of haMoẓi’ itself. The compiler’s text is a free execution of the passage in BT Berakhot 48b, which delineates the principles of the ritual of breaking bread. In his own way, the artist echoed this perception in his visual rendering. At the lower left margin of the page, barely visible to the naked eye, an image faithfully corresponds to the text and serves as an illustration for it.45 It shows the profile of a man, seated on a high straight-backed chair, his feet resting on a footstool, indicative of furniture used by the nobility or other privileged classes. Obviously performing the ritual and reciting the Benediction over Bread, he is holding a round loaf with all ten fingers placed on it. The text describes the protagonist as reciting haMoẓi’ and asking the other dinner guests’ permission to proceed with the ritual of breaking the bread. The participants must then reply, granting the besought “heavenly acquiescence.” The iconography of the scene at the bottom of fol. 4v is reminiscent of numerous depictions of the Benediction over Bread in medieval and later Ashkenazi Hebrew manuscripts in many of its details, save for the placement of the fingers on the bread. Often found in haggadot recited on the eve of Passover, they show a hand or often a full figure holding the unleavened bread for Passover (maẓẓah) and presenting it to the other participants in the Seder cerermony (see Figure 62).46 43 Sefer Maharil (Sabbionetta: Tovia Foà, 5516/1556), Rulings for the Meal, fol. 81v. 44 See, for example, a note to that effect in Beit haBeḥirah by the Catalan rabbi and Talmudist R. Menahem haMe’iri (1249–ca. 1310), BT Berakhot 39b. 45 Other illustrations for the same circumstances with similar iconography have not yet been found. Textual reference to this custom, albeit from a different time and realm, is found in a fifteenth-century Romoniote prayer book, where it is said that one takes three (!) loaves of bread for the kiddush and, before reciting the benediction, places both hands on one of them. The manuscript is in Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, Heb. 80 3318, fol. 105r. 46 See Mendel Metzger, La Haggadah enluminée. Étude iconographique et stylistique des manuscrits enluminés et décorés de la Haggadah du XIIIe au XVIe siècle (Études sur le judaïsme

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The prescribed sections of this ritual, moẓi’ maẓẓah (bringing forth the maẓẓah), consists of showing the maẓẓah to the other participants. This happens before eating it as a symbolic reminder of the unleavened bread the Israelites baked in their haste when escaping from Egypt. The images in haggadot, therefore, serve to cast a spotlight on the unleavened bread itself rather than on the posture in which it should be held by the master of the Seder.47

Figure 62: The Ashkenazi Haggadah, Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r [London, The British Library, Add. MS. 14762] médiéval, t. 2) (Leiden: Brill, 1973), vol. 1, pl. XLII, fig. 235–240, as well as other manuscripts reproduced there. This iconography is typical for Italo-Ashkenazi manuscripts as well. In contrast, in Sephardi haggadot from pre-exilic Iberia, the common depiction is of a freestanding maẓẓah, shown either as a full-page image or occupying the major part of the text-space. See, for example, Narkiss, Manuscripts in the British Isles, vol. 1, part 2, pl. XVII, fig. 83; pl. XXV, fig. 118; pl. XLV, fig. 153; pl. LVIII, fig. 202. 47 The special interest in the shape of the maẓẓah comes to light in some early haggadot from Ashkenaz, as demonstrated by Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “The Lobed Maẓẓot: A Trialogue of Image, Text and Custom,” in Minhagim: Custom and Practice in Jewish Life (Rethinking Diaspora 3), ed. by Joseph Isaac Lifshitz, Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, Simha Goldin et al. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020), 99−122.

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Another particularity of the Nuremberg Miscellany lies in the fact that the illustration shows only one loaf of bread instead of the two loaves mandatory for Shabbat. Although the text on fols. 3v-4r does not explicitly refer to Shabbat, the context of Psalm 23 is an implicit indication to it. BT Shabbat 117b says: “R. Abba’ said, ‘On Shabbat it is one’s duty to break bread over two loaves,’ for it is written, ‘twice as much bread.’”48 This stipulation is based on Exodus 16:22–27 that relates that after the Exodus, the Israelites received a double portion of Manna on Friday, which lasted the entire Shabbat, during which its gleaning was prohibited. Later in the Talmudic text, however, mention is made of R. Ashi, who said, “I saw that R. Kahana’ held two [loaves] but broke bread over one, observing, ‘they gathered.’” In other words, the sage held the two loaves together so that they appeared as one. This elucidation may explain what seems to be one single loaf seen in the faded illustration on fol. 4v of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Moreover, the artist presumably wished to focus on the manner in which the bread is held and broken, rather than on the requirement to pronounce the benediction over the two loaves prescribed for the performance of the miẓvah on Shabbat. For his own reasons, the compiler, too, chose to concentrate on the actual fulfilment of the miẓvah and not on the number of loaves used for the ritual. He therefore insisted that the benediction be followed immediately by consumption of the bread with absolutely no delay, and that one should break it where it is best baked rather than in the softer part.49 This custom, known already from the Babylonian Talmud, is founded on a somewhat odd, seemingly insignificant legendary encounter between a certain Manasseh and Rav Ashi.50 The story goes as follows: [That night] Manasseh came and appeared to him [to Rav Ashi] in a dream. “You have called us your colleagues and the colleagues of your father; now, from what part [of the bread] is [the piece for reciting] the haMoẓi’ to be taken?” “I do not know,” he answered. “You have not learned this,” he jibed, “yet you call us your colleagues!” “Teach it me,” he begged, “and tomorrow I will teach it in your name at the session.” He answered, “From the part that is baked into a crust.51

48 Exod 16:22. 49 See also, for example, Sefer Kol Bo §24. 50 Rav Ashi (352–427 CE), who was a prominent religious scholar in Babylonia, served as the head of the rabbinical academy (yeshivah) at Sura’ and was the first editor of the Babylonian Talmud. 51 BT Sanhedrin 102b. See also Rashi, ad loc.

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Medieval writings refer repeatedly to the stipulation to break the bread for haMoẓi’ at the best-baked part, including the anonymous fourteenth-century Kol Bo, which had probably been printed in Italy as early as the late fifteenth century.52 R. Josef Qaro reiterated the requirement in his authoritative Code of Jewish Law, known as the Shulḥan 'Arukh. The compendium was completed in Safed, Eretz Israel, in 1563 and published for the first time in Venice in 1565 by Zorzo (or Giorgio) di Cavalli. The section ‘Oraḥ Ḥayyim of the Shulḥan 'Arukh describes the “Rulings for Breaking Bread on Shabbat” at length,53 as does the commentary on the Shulḥan 'Arukh by R. Moses Isserles, entitled the Mappah. Isserles, commonly known in his acronym as Rema (Krakow, Poland, 1520–1572), compiled a series of glosses in which he supplemented Qaro’s Shulḥan 'Arukh with material drawn from the laws and customs of Ashkenazi Jewry, mainly on the teachings of R. Jacob Möllin (Maharil), R. Israel Isserlein, and R. Israel b. Ḥayyim Bruna (known as Mahari Bruna, Germany, 1400–1480).54 Given the popularity the book enjoyed from the appearance of its first edition onwards, it is highly plausible that its content was known also to both the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany and its artist, who included the image of the man performing haMoẓi’ at the bottom of fol. 4r as an illustration to the halakhic secondary text.

On Wine, Its Vices and Virtues Following Psalm 23, which occupies the preceding page, and the Benediction over Bread, fol. 4v contains the beginning of the Grace after Meals that opens with a preliminary hymn. The importance of this component of Jewish daily conduct led the copyist of the Nuremberg Miscellany to render the initial word ‫( נְ ָב ֵרְך‬let us bless) of the invitation to recite the blessing in an extraordinary fashion by colouring the letters with powdered gold (see Figure 63). In fact, this is one of only two instances in which he employed such costly tincture, the other being in the initial letter of the word ‫( ָּברּוְך‬barukh) on fol. 19v.55

52 The first dated edition is Constantinople: [n.p.], 1519, following an undated edition from an unknown origin, presumably in Naples 1490. 53 Shulḥan 'Arukh, ‘Oraḥ Ḥayyim §167, fol. 33r. 54 The Mappah was embedded into Qaro’s text in semi-cursive script to distinguish it from the main text. It was printed for the first time in the Krakow edition of the Shulḥan 'Arukh by Isaac b. Aaron of Prostitz in 1578–1580. 55 See above, 20.

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Figure 63: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

According to halakhah, “Three who have eaten together are obligated to invite [one another to say Grace].”56 This applies only to meals where a minimal quorum of three adult men is present and includes the consumption of bread, and therefore also entails the mandatory recitation of haMoẓi’. On such occasions, one of the partakers calls upon the whole group in a zimmun (lit. “summoning,” “gathering”) to recite the Grace after Meals together. When the number of adult men who partake of a meal together rises to ten, they constitute a ritual quorum, or minyan. This allows for direct reference to God in the text of the zimmun.57 The fact that the Nuremberg Miscellany includes this longer version of the zimmun requiring a minyan indicates its connection with an event in which multiple adult men would be present. Such an occasion could be a rite of 56 M Berakhot 7a and BT Berakhot 45a. See also Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 192, §1. 57 When summoning ten and more participants in the meal, the invitor recites “Let us thank God . . . With your permission, let us thank God whose food we have eaten,” and the participants reply “Blessed is God whose food we have eaten and through whose goodness we live.” According to one opinion expressed in BT Berakhot 49b, additional texts are added to the zimmun if the Grace after Meals is recited by at least one hundred, one thousand or ten thousand adult men seated at one meal.

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passage, like a wedding,58 which includes the celebration of a festive “mandatory meal” (se'udat miẓvah).59 The Jewish Grace after Meals comprises a series of texts arranged in a particular order. In the manuscript, under the initial phrases of the first benediction and still within the space allotted to the Grace, a short passage is inscribed in semi-cursive script, as are all secondary texts in the manuscript. It discusses wine, its vices and virtues.60 The artist aptly chose to decorate the page with a branch of a grapevine bearing fruit, depicted horizontally. On the right, it joins a narrow vertical ribbon with the head of a gazelle with spiral horns at its apex. The hand depicted beside the image might provide a clue for this peculiar iconographic feature. It is pointing to a passage from the Grace after Meals: “He supplies bread for all living beings, for His kindness is everlasting . . . For He is God who nourishes and sustains all, and is good to all, and who supplies food for all His creatures which He created.” It seems that by inserting the image of the gazelle, the artist chose to symbolise and encapsulate God’s grace in providing not only for humankind but also for animals of all sorts as well. The secondary text, inscribed in semi-cursive letters and interspersed between sections of the main text, propagates moderate consumption of food and wine, to be taken only for satiation and sustenance as a measure of respect for one’s parents (see Figure 64). The biblical injunction on obedience that instigated this discourse in the Miscellany is vague and unspecific: If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son, who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they chastise him, will not give heed to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at

58 Interestingly, the copyist did not include the insertion ‫ ֶׁש ַה ִּׂש ְמ ָחה ִּב ְמעֹונֹו‬which is added to the zimmun in conjunction with wedding celebrations (or, when there are more than ten male attendants of age, the addition is ‫אֹלהינּו ֶׁש ַה ִּׂש ְמ ָחה ִּב ְמעֹונו‬ ֵ ‫“ֹ )נְ ָב ֵרְך ֵל‬Let us bless our God in whose abode is joy, of whose bounty we have eaten . . .”, as stipulated in BT Ketubot 8a. See also Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Sefer Ahavah, chap. 5, 5. 59 See further in the chapter on the Ḥanukkah meal. 60 On wine in the ancient Jewish world, see David J. Jordan, “An Offering of Wine: An Introductory Exploration of the Role of Wine in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Judaism through the Examination of the Semantics of Some Keywords,” PhD diss., (University of Sydney, 2002). See also David C. Kraemer, “Food in the Rabbinic Era,” in Feasting and Fasting: The History and Ethics of Jewish Food, ed. Aaron S. Gross, Jody Myers, and Jordan D. Rosenblum (New York: New York University Press, 2019), 59–82; and the specific section on wine in Jonathan Brumberg-Kraus, “Food in the Medieval Era”, ibid., 95–97.

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the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, “This our son is stubborn and rebellious, he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.”61

Figure 64: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The passage in the secondary text brings us back to the theme of honouring one’s parents and filial obedience with which the manuscript began on fol. 1r and its sequels. On fol. 4v, however, the focus is on the behaviour of the recalcitrant son. One of the typical vices of a proverbial son, as described in the Bible, is gluttony and drunkenness. Yet, while the Bible fails to provide a measure for this excessive drinking and eating, the sages of the Mishnah sought to clarify this vague biblical passage. M. Sanhedrin 8:1–5 discusses the definition of a “stubborn and rebellious son” (‫ּומֹורה‬ ֶ ‫סֹורר‬ ֵ ‫)ּבן‬, ֵ touching in part on his religious liability and the quantitative paradigm of such transgressions:

61 Deut 21:18–20. These verses have been analytically studied by Phillip R. Callaway, “Deut. 21:18–21: Proverbial Wisdom and Law,” Journal of Biblical Literature 103, no. 3 (1984): 341–352. A different approach is presented by J. W. McKay, “Man’s Love for God in Deuteronomy and the Father/Teacher-Son/Pupil Relationship,” Vetus Testamentum 22, no. 4 (1972): 426–435.

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When does he become liable? When he eats a ṭarṭemar (a measure of weight) of meat and drinks half a log (a measure of liquid) of Italian wine.62 R. Yosei said: a mina (or maneh, a weight measure) of meat and a log of wine.”63

Exceeding these amounts or displaying otherwise intolerable behaviour qualify him as a rebellious son who deserves to die. The Talmud further revisits the issue, trying to clarify the amounts indicated in the Mishnah and their relative relationship.64 The deliberation on quantities of wine and meat permissible for consumption, which the manuscript treats together as one moralistic issue, deserves further attention. A passage in the Babylonian Talmud sheds light on the juxtaposed iconography of fol. 4v, where the two foodstuffs appear in a different context: Passover. The Sages taught that one is required to bring joy to family members, the household, and strangers during this festival.65 This precept draws on the biblical command: “You shall rejoice in your feast, you and your son and your daughter, your manservant and your maidservant, the Levite, the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow who are within your towns.”66 The Bible, however, does not specify the nature and measure of this joy. Quoting a verse about Sukkot in the context of Passover, the Sages later sought to set a standard to joy in any and every Jewish festival. Further on in the aforementioned Talmudic text, R. Judah b. Beteira is quoted saying: “During the time that the Temple existed there was no ‘rejoicing’ other than through meat .  .  . [However] now that the Temple no longer exists there is no ‘rejoicing’ other than through wine.” 62 Italian wine was considered a choice and strong wine, implying that lesser wine could be consumed in larger quantities, as it would be neither so potent nor seductive. See further Giuseppe Veltri, “‘Gießen Sie den Wein in die Kehle der weisen Schüler’: zur Frage des Alkoholgehaltes von (italienischem) Wein in der rabbinischen Literatur,” in Wein und Judentum, ed. Andreas Lehnardt (Berlin: Neofelis, 2014), 53–63. 63 M. Sanhedrin 8:2. Other authorities on the same passage state diverse quantitative and qualitative distinctions as well. See Devora Steinmetz, Punishment and Freedom. The Rabbinic Construction of Criminal Law (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 10 and 133, n. 42. BT Sanhedrin 70a further revisits the issue, trying to clarify the amounts indicated in the Mishnah and their relative relationship: “R. Zera’ said: I do not know what is this ṭarṭemar; but since R. Yosei doubled the measure of wine, he must have doubled that of meat too; hence the ṭarṭemar is half a mina.” 64 On the definition of the measurements, see B. [Benedict] Zuckermann, “Über talmudische Münzen und Gewichte,” Jahresbericht des jüdisch-theologischen Seminars “Fraenckelscher Stiftung” (Breslau: Grass, Barth und Comp. 1862), 8. 65 BT Pesahim 109a. 66 Deut 16:14.

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Taking this dictum as a point of departure for his own discourse on Deuteronomy 16:14, Maimonides writes: “Men should eat meat and drink wine, for there is no rejoicing without meat and no rejoicing without wine.”67 Maimonides, however, is concerned with excessive consumption of wine, against which he warns in another context. His specific concern here is the conduct of a sage or a scholar in every aspect of life, including “his food and drink”68: Just as a wise man is exceptional in his wisdom and temperaments, so also should he excel in his actions: . . . What does this mean? A learned sage should not be a glutton, but should eat foods according to the needs of his body and no more than is necessary to be satiated, and he should not rush to fill his stomach like those who fill themselves with food until they burst . . . Solomon said, “The righteous eats to satisfy his soul.”69

Moreover, thus Maimonides: When a wise person drinks wine, he should drink just enough to soften the food that is in his stomach. Anyone who gets drunk is sinning, disgracing, and losing his wisdom. Getting drunk in front of uneducated people is considered a desecration of God’s Name. Moreover, drinking wine in the afternoon is prohibited, even in small quantities, except as part of a meal, for wine included in a meal does not inebriate. One only has to be particular about wine that is not drunk during a meal.70

The secondary text on fol. 4v of the Nuremberg Miscellany clearly echoes Maimonides’ views on eating and drinking. Quoting Midrash Tehillim, an exegesis on Psalms, the compiler expounded on the exact same issues, which he thoughtfully incorporated in proximity to the zimmun. The first benediction of the Grace after Meals deals with God’s bounty: Blessed is The Lord our God, Sovereign of the universe, who sustains the entire world with goodness, kindness, and mercy. He gives food to all creatures,71 for His mercy is everlasting. Through God’s abundant goodness, we have not lacked sustenance, and may we not lack

67 Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yom Ṭov (Rulings for Festivals) 6:18. 68 Ibid., Hilkhot De'ot (Laws of Temperament), chap. 5. 69 Ibid., 5:1. 70 Ibid., 5:3. See also 5:10: “A learned sage should maintain his things according to [his] judgment: he should eat, drink, and feed the members of his household according to his finances and luck, but he should not bother himself excessively. The Sages commanded that, as good manners, one should only eat meat when hungry, for it is written, ‘because you long to eat meat, you may eat meat to your heart’s desire.’ It is enough for health to eat meat from one Friday to the next, and if one is rich enough to be able to eat meat every day one may do so. The Sages commanded that one should always eat less than one can afford, but should dress accordingly, and should respect one’s wife and children more than accordingly.” 71 The original Hebrew wording is ‫ ָּב ָשר‬which, in this context, could be translated as “creature(s)” or “being(s).”

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sustenance forever, for the sake of God’s great name. He sustains all, does good to all, and provides food for all the creatures which He has created. Blessed is The Lord our God, who provides food for all.

Whereas the benediction quotes Psalm 136:25, which reads “Who gives food to all flesh, for His mercy endures forever,” another biblical verse describes the difference in the consumption of food and drink between the righteous and the evil. Proverbs 13:25 maintains that “The righteous eats to satisfy his soul; but the belly of the wicked shall want.” Interestingly, the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany is quoting this very passage in the text beneath the beginning of the Grace after Meals, on fol. 4v, referring to Midrash Tehillim. The earliest extant edition of this particular midrash was published by an anonymous printer in Constantinople in 1512, and is entitled ‫“( מדרש תלים‬Midrash Tilim” rather than Midrash Tehillim ‫—)מ ְד ָרׁש ְּת ִה ִּלים‬the ִ spelling used in the Miscellany as well, or a linguistic Ashkenazi pronounciation preference influenced by the Yiddish.72 Daniel Bomberg issued a subsequent edition of the book in Venice in 1546. This latter version, with the correct Hebrew spelling on its title page, contains the midrash not only on Psalms but also on Proverbs, which follows at the end of the book.73 Fol. 6v of the midrash on Proverbs contains the incipit of the discourse that was later rendered by the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany. It contends that “the righteous who eats to the satisfaction of his desire” is the one who fills himself with words of the Torah, whereas the wicked [who does the same] is the one who is lacking of Torah.74 The inclusion of this particular deliberation in the secondary text of fol. 4v of the manuscript suggests that the compiler—or the patron—of the Miscellany either owned or had access to the Venice edition of Midrash Tehillim of 1546 that included the midrash on Proverbs as well. This particular edition was issued only a few decades before the manuscript was penned. Alternatively, the compiler may have owned the earlier Constantinople edition of 1512 of Midrash Tilim as well as an unknown edition containing the midrash on Proverbs in a separate book, or both editions of the midrash on Psalms. Although this possibility is less

72 As per the title page of the Constantinople edition, fol. 1r, the work is also called Midrash Shoḥer Ṭov. Divergences from the Hebrew and preference of the Ashkenazi pronounciation in Hebrew and non-Jewish sources are discussed by Andreas Lehnertz,“Katavti al ha-Tsetel: aschkenasische Wörter in Quellen des 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts,” Jiddistik Mitteilungen; Jiddistik in deutschsprachigen Ländern 51 (2014), 1−15. 73 Thus in the copy in Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, R 46A 97b. 74 The midrash then carries on, providing numerous other explanations to this verse and offering historical examples of righteous and evil personages from the Bible.

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likely, it could nonetheless explain the particular (or “Yiddishised”) spelling of the title of the midrash in the text. Summing up the content of the secondary text at the bottom of fol. 4v, it is an assortment and compilation of writings from various sources discussing gluttony and drunkenness. The exemplary drink mentioned in these texts is wine, reflected visually in the vine and grapes running horizontally at the foot of the page. Its counterpart, epitomising gluttony, is meat, represented by the gazelle. As fowl was not considered as “meat” for the fulfilment of “rejoicing” according to the Talmud, the Sages insisted on a more exquisite sort of meat to meet the requirement: “‘You shall rejoice in your festival,’ teaches that one fulfils the precept of rejoicing with all types of joy-inducing meats . . .” The Talmud wonders which species of animals are suitable to fulfil the miẓvah. The biblical injunction reads, “You shall rejoice in your festival.” The word “festival” (‫חג‬, ַ pronounced ḥag) comes from the tri-consonantal root .‫ג‬.‫ג‬.‫ח‬, which is also the root of word ḥagigah, denoting the sacrificial offering that was brought to the Temple on the Pilgrimage Festivals of Passover, Shavu'ot (Feast of Weeks) and Sukkot. The Talmudic sages expounded that whatever was acceptable for the sacrificial offering at the Temple is appropriate for the celebratory feast on a festival in our days as well, excluding fowl and meal-offerings.75 Rav Ashi then clarified: “The verse says, ‘You shall rejoice’—the flesh of birds and meal-offerings does not bring a person to rejoice [while the meat of animals does].” A different interpretation for the inclusion of the bovine head in the illustration on fol. 4v of the Nuremberg Miscellany comes from another midrashic exegesis from the Talmud dealing with the first benediction of the Grace after Meals: The midrash maintains that The day consists of twelve hours; during the first three hours the Holy One, blessed be He, occupies Himself with the Torah . . . during the third quarter, He feeds the whole world, from the horned buffalo to the brood of vermin . . .76

Embellishing the page on which the compiler inscribed the beginning of the Grace after Meals and the essay on the appropriate measure of consumption of food and drink, the artist chose two symbolic foodstuffs placed in proximity to one another. In light of the excursus above, he could not have chosen images more befitting the text than the vine and grapes representing the wine, and the horned gazelle head representing the meat.

75 BT Hagigah 8b. 76 BT Avodah Zarah 3b.

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Spectacles, a Sword, and a Fish The second benediction of the Grace after Meals praises and expresses gratitude to God . . . for having given a lovely, good and spacious land to our forefathers; for having liberated us from the land of Egypt and freed us from the house of bondage; for the covenant which You have sealed in our flesh, for the Torah which You have taught us; for the laws which You have made known to us; for the life, grace, and loving kindness which You have bestowed upon us, and for the sustenance with which You nourish and maintain us continually, in every day, every season, even every hour.

This benediction begins with the word nodeh (‫נֹודה‬ ֶ “we thank”) which, on fol. 5r of the Nuremberg Miscellany, is composed of images of various objects forming its letters (see Figure 65). The artist’s choice of the specific items used to design the initial word may seem, at first sight, impulsive or random and merely decorative, but, in fact, they reflect the artist’s erudite choice.

Figure 65: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

On the right, he positioned a vertical image of eyeglasses that appear totally out of context. Although reading-stones were used already from around 1000 CE, glasses in the modern sense came into use only later. Venice was a major centre of glass production and, by the end of the thirteenth century, eyeglasses had become an object of general use there, as evidenced from an ordinance dated April 2, 1300 aimed at makers of glass and crystal. It prohibited them from perpetrating a fraud that must have become widespread. In writing, glasses are mentioned for the first time in Italy already about 1286, and in greater detail in a sermon delivered on February 23, 1306

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 187

by the Dominican friar Giordano da Rivalto, residing in Pisa (ca. 1255–1311), describing their nascence and introduction into use some twenty years after their invention: It is not yet twenty years since there was found the art of making eyeglasses, which make for good vision . . . And it is so short a time that this new art, never before extant, was discovered.77

The earliest depiction of glasses in a painted work of art occurred still later, in a series of frescoes dated 1352 attributed to Tommaso Barisini da Modena in the Chapter House of the Seminario attached to the Basilica S. Nicolò in Treviso, north of Venice. Among the portraits of forty Dominican scholars at their desks is Cardinal Hugh de St. Cher, wearing a pair of rivet spectacles.78 The illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany depicts “bow spectacles” with their distinctive curved bridge. They were manufactured as of the end of the fifteenth and early sixteenth century in various places in Europe, including Southern Germany, and became popular in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.79 The main centres for spectacle production in Germany in the Early Modern period were Regensburg and Nuremberg, where the typical “Nuremberg Spectacles” were fashioned (see Figure 66).

Figure 66: Leather spectacles, Southern Germany (?), late 15–early 16c [Nuremberg, Germanisches   Nationalmuseum, T157]

77 Quoted by Vincent Ilardi, Renaissance Vision from Spectacles to Telescopes (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 2007), 5. See also Edward Rosen, “The Invention of Eyeglasses,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences XI, no. 1 (1956): 13–46; and no. 2, 183–218. The first known surviving glasses are a pair made of leather from the early fourteenth century, found in 1953 beneath the floorboards of Kloster Wienhausen, near Celle, Germany. 78 For a historical survey of depictions of eyeglasses in art, see Rosolino La Mattina, Gli occhiali nella pittura dal XIV al XX secolo. Dal Veneto alla Sicilia l’iconografia racconta l’evoluzione dell’oggetto visivo (Caltanissetta: Lussografica, 2006). 79 Such as the example, probably from Southern Germany, made at the end of the fifteenth or early sixteenth century, in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. T157. It is made of black leather with “Waldglas” lenses, and measures 4.3 × 8.8 × 0.3 cm. See Rainhard Riepertinger et al., eds., Bayern, Italien: die Geschichte einer intensiven Beziehung (Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss / Augsburg: Haus der Bayerischen Geschichte, 2010), Cat. No. F 51, 121.

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The German social structure of unions of crafts and hand-produced goods was organised already in the early sixteenth century, and the Nuremberg Spectacle Makers’ Guild issued a regulatory code as early as the 1530s.80 The guild’s emblem, devised in 1530, featured, of course, an image of eyeglasses. One of the earliest German illustrations of glasses is in Hartman Schedel’s Liber Chronicarum, published in Nuremberg by C. Koberger in 1493. It contains hand-coloured woodcuts by Michael Wolgemut and Wilhelm Pleydenwurff, including one of the earliest, and probably the clearest printed depictions of a person holding eyeglasses in his hand – an image reprinted to represent different personages (see Figure 67).81 A later example of spectacles appears as the sole decoration on the title page of Johannes Reuchlin’s Augenspiegel, published by Thomas Anselm in Tübingen in 1511.

Figure 67: Hartmann Schedel (illustrations Michel Wolgemut, Wilhelm Pleydenwurff), Das Buch der Chroniken (Liber chronicarum), Nuremberg: Anton Koberger, 1493, fol. CCXXXIv (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, Inc. 2o 266]

80 One later specimen of Nuremberg eyeglasses of 1651–1710 is kept in the London, Science Museum, Accession no. A681545. 81 Hartmann Schedel, Das Buch der Chroniken (Liber chronicarum) (Nuremberg: Anton Koberger, 1493), for example fol. CXCIIIr and a similar images elsewhere, such as in fol. CXCVIIIr. A different figure holding eyeglasses is shown standing on fol. CCXXXIIIv.

Spectacles, a Sword, and a Fish 

 189

Although eyeglasses have since become the symbol of wisdom and learning, their inclusion in the initial word on fol. 5r of the Nuremberg Miscellany must have been for a different reason altogether. The secondary text on the page comments on the kind of person worthy of being selected to lead the recitation of the Grace after Meals. With reference to the biblical verse “He who has a bountiful eye shall be blessed, for he gives of his bread to the poor” (Proverbs 22:9), the compiler of the manuscript quotes the Talmudic sage R. Joshua b. Levi: We give the cup of blessing for the recital of the Grace after Meals only to one who is of a generous disposition (Heb. ‫עיִ ן‬-‫טֹוב‬, ַ lit. “good of eye”]. Read not yevorakh (he shall be blessed) but yevarekh (he shall bless [i.e., recite the Benediction]).82

The compiler also adds a reference to that effect from Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron of Luntshitz’s oevre, 'Ir Gibborim.83 Inspired by this literary excursus, the artist inserted his own visual pun on the words ‫טֹוב ַעיִ ן‬. The biblical expression combines the words for “good” and “eye.” The two words constitute a construct chain, literally meaning “good of eye” or “one who has a good eye.” Idiomatically, having a good eye denotes being generous in Hebrew usage, yet the artist introduced a humorous interpretation, reading “good of eye” as “of good eyes,” or rather “having good eyesight.” The spectacles comprising the vertical part of the first letter in the initial word are his own visual midrash on the text. In fact, he is actually illustrating part of the primary text with an insinuation to the sometimes even absent secondary—or paratext—exemplifying an exceptionally interesting text-image relationship. In the following letters of the initial word, there are drawings of a short sword and a fish. Whereas the eyeglasses in the first letter illustrate an idea that draws upon the artist’s associative memory, the short sword and the fish are visual intimations to the main text of the Grace after Meals. The fish represents “the sustenance with which God nourishes and maintains mankind continually, in every day, every season, and even every hour.” It was chosen to represent bounty, probably due to its narrowness, making it easy to position vertically as part of the initial word, surely also on account of its proliferation and plentiness. The sword is more difficult to explain. It could perhaps be an allusion to the manner in which God salvaged His people from the Egyptian bondage, of which it is said, “I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians . . . and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with mighty 82 BT Sotah 38b. 83 In fact, he is quoting from Kli Yaqar—not 'Ir Gibborim—by the same author, in his exegesis to Gen 27:33, s.v. ‫גם‬. This erroneous attribution suggests that the compiler was counting on his memory rather than on a literary source that was actually in front of his eyes.

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acts of judgment.”84 Later exegetes interpreted this expression in a passage that was included in the Passover haggadah. Explicating the words “with an outstretched hand,” the rabbis drew upon another text in which the verb “outstretched” is mentioned, to indicate: “With an outstretched arm—this refers to the sword, as it is said, ‘Having a drawn sword in his hand, stretched out over Jerusalem.’”85 In other words, the image on fol. 5r of the Nuremberg Miscellany alludes to the sword of salvation from Egypt, referred to explicitly in the second benediction of the Grace after Meals.86 Carrying this interpretation a step further, the sword may also be read as a hint to the conquest of the Promised Land and the gratitude of the People of Israel “for having given our fathers a lovely, good, and spacious land”—but a land that needed to be conquered by force. Alternatively, or in addition to the interpretation that connects the sword to national salvation, the sword could also be suggestive of the verse ‫יתָך‬ ְ ‫וְ ַעל ְּב ִר‬ ‫“( ֶׁש ָח ַת ְמ ָּת ִּב ְב ָש ֵרנו‬And your covenant that you have sealed in our flesh”) recited in the benediction. The phrase is an expression of gratitude for the covenant of circumcision as a physical manifestation of the bond between God and His people. Despite the fact that the object here is clearly a sword and that its form and size do not correspond to the typically shaped circumcision knife, the artist, with his exceptional exegetical sense, may have employed multiple-layered iconographic reading to one single, seemingly insignificant object that is incorporated into the initial letter.

The Course of Time: The Hourglass Of the many household items portrayed in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the hourglass on fol. 5v is one of the smallest (see Figure 68). It is a miniature illustration appended to the left of the words 'al haNissim (‫על ַהּנִ ִסים‬, ַ lit. “[we thank You] for the miracles”). This is a special prayer of thanksgiving for salvation added in the liturgy of the 'amidah and the Grace after Meals on two minor post-biblical historical festivals, Ḥanukkah or the Feast of Lights, and Purim—the Feast of Lots.87

84 Exod 6:6. Similar wording appears also in numerous other biblical passages: Exod 13:3, 13:14; Deut 4:34, 5:15, 26:8; 2 Kgs 17:36; Jer 21:5, 32:21; Ps 136:12; 1 Chr 17:21. 85 1 Chr 21:16. 86 I gratefully owe this interpretation to Dr. Joseph Isaac Lifshitz. 87 Nowadays it is commonly recited also on Israel’s Independence Day.

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 191

Figure 68: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The 'amidah (lit. “[The] Standing [Prayer]”) is the key prayer of the Jewish liturgy, halakhically designated to be recited silently three times on a regular weekday.88 While most of its components remain unaltered with the changing circumstances along the Jewish year cycle, the liturgy is adjusted for Shabbat, feasts, and fasts. Accordingly, the recital of 'al haNissim is added to it on Ḥanukkah and Purim. This supplementary text consists of two parts. The first is a permanent constituent common to both minor festivals, expressing gratitude to God for performing miracles, victory, and redemption on behalf of the Jews at times of national distress. The second part is a unique component pertaining to the specific occasion. The commemoration of both the glorious and the cataclysmic events of their history through a structured, distinct, and specifically timed system of practices has become part of the Jewish collective identity, reflecting a worldview of living in the present as a function of the past and projection to the future. Keeping an accurate accounting of time is essential for observing the Jewish year cycle and performing the religious obligations of the appointed times correctly and in a timely fashion. The importance of time in the Jewish tradition, beginning with the separation between light and darkness on the first day of Creation, is preeminent in Jewish

88 On Shabbat and festivals the number of components and some benedictions in the silent prayer vary.

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thought and theology. Of the Jewish sub-cycles, the most important is the weekly course, culminating with Shabbat, which is a commemoration of the seventh day of rest after the six days of Creation. Practice of Judaism is therefore a function of time rather than space.89 Jewish traditions and customs reflect how strongly the relationship between God and the Jewish people finds its expression in time and time-bound events.90 The hourglass on fol. 5v of the Nuremberg Miscellany is not a text illustration in the strict sense of the word, since it has no connection to any particular passage in the primary or secondary texts. Its role is that of an icon or highlight, reminding the reader of the special temporal additions to the regular prayer. Yet the object is true to life in all its formal details, with the possible exception of the two brackets from which it would typically hang, allowing it to be turned upsidedown after each use. Such a device is seen, for example, at the right-hand edge of the table in a double portrait of Martin Luther, painted by Jost Amman in the second half of the sixteenth century.91 Before the development of mechanical clocks in the late Middle Ages, nonmechanical devices existed, including hourglasses, also known as sandglasses or sand-timers. The earliest known record of hourglasses dates from the fourteenth century,92 although the device may have arrived in Europe as early as the eighth century.93 By the sixteenth century, it was already in use to measure short intervals in the kitchen or to help a minister regulate the length of his

89 With the exception of the specific directionality of prayer towards the Land of Israel, within the Land of Israel—towards Jerusalem, and within Jerusalem—one should pray in the direction of the Temple and the Holy of Holies. Additionally, some miẓvot can only be performed in the Land of Israel itself. 90 On the role of time in Jewish life, see Stern, Calendar and Community, and more recently, idem, “The Rabbinic Concept of Time from Late Antiquity to the Middle Ages,” in Time and Eternity; the Medieval Discourse, ed. Gerhard Jaritz and Gerson Moreno-Riaño (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 129–145. See also an earlier study by Gerhard Jaritz, “Fictitious Calendars: Early Rabbinic Notions of Time, Astronomy, and Reality,” Jewish Quarterly Review 87, 1–2 (1996): 103–129. 91 See Jost Amman, “Double Portrait of Martin Luther as Monk and as Professor,” an etching from the second half of the sixteenth century, a copy of which is in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. K12761, as well as Jost Amman’s etching showing the portrait of Wenzel Jamnitzer, ca. 1572–1575, in Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Inv. 16995. 92 The earliest known depiction of an hourglass appears in the fresco “Allegory of Good and Bad Government” by Ambrogio Lorenzetti, painted in 1338–1360 in the Sala della Pace in the Palazzo Pubblico of Siena. The hourglass there serves as an attribute of Temperance. See reproduction in Chiara Frugoni, Pietro ed Ambrogio Lorenzetti (Florence: Scala Books, 1988), 83. 93 See a historical survey by Harrison J. Cowan, Time and Its Measurement: From the Stone Age to the Nuclear Age (Cleveland: World Publishing Company, 1958). On p. 64, the author dates the early appearance of the hourglass in Europe without substantiating his claim.

The Course of Time: The Hourglass 

 193

sermon. Furthermore, hourglasses served also to count work hours and rest times, and teachers brought their hourglass along to measure the duration of their lecture or the length of the students’ prescribed study period. Another use of the hourglass was measuring a ship’s speed, practised well into the sixteenth century.94 It further served calendar-makers as one of the devices by which to calculate the calendar through observation of the stars and the planets.95 In the eighteenth century, a multiple, usually four-membrane hourglass appeared, to measure the length of sermons in the Protestant Church.96 Lastly, as a symbolic icon, the hourglass symbolises the temporality of life in the iconography of death and vanitas—a theme that became popular in art mainly from the sixteenth century on,97 as in the paper print showing a skeleton, holding an hourglass near a man in his deathbed, made by Abraham Smesman in 1590 (see Figure 69).

94 The history of the hourglass is discussed by Karl Heinz Pohl, “Für Gelehrsamkeit, für Kanzel und Seefahrt. Geschichte und Konstruktion der Sanduhr,” Kunst und Antiquitäten 1 (1979): 23–28; as well as Gerhard Dohrn-van Rossum, History of the Hour: Clocks and Modern Temporal Orders, trans. Thomas Dunlap (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 117–118, including references to the earliest texts mentioning this object. See further a different dating of the origin of the hourglass in Anthony J. Turner, “The Accomplishment of Many Years: Three Notes towards a History of the Sand-Glass,” Annals of Science 39, no. 2 (1982): 161–172. Cf. also R. T. Balmer, “The Operation of Sand Clocks and Their Medieval Development,” Technology and Culture 19, no. 4 (1978): 615–632. 95 See the single leaf woodcut, probably from 1492, showing a calendar-maker in his study. The woodcut is in Mainz, Gutenberg-Museum, 18:20/154, and is reproduced in Sabine Mertens and Cornelia Schneider, eds., Blockbücher des Mittelalters. Bilderfolgen als Lektüre (exhibition catalogue) (Mainz: Gutenberg-Museum, 1991), no. 48d, 192–193. 96 See the study by Karin Tebbe, “Zeitzeugen: Silberne Predigeruhren aus Nürnberg,” Monatsanzeiger, Museen und Ausstellungen in Nürnberg 254 (2001): 2–3. 97 Like the one held by the image of death in Hans Sebald Beham’s “Death and the Courtesan,” 1522, reproduced in Campbell Dodgson, “Hans Sebald Beham and a New Catalogue of His Works,” The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 1, no. 2 (1903): 200. Compare also the hourglass depicted in the Silesian vanitas bowl, possibly from Neiße. It is accompanied by the inscription “heite mir. Morgen dir,” a skull, and various other elements. It is presently housed in Hamburg, Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe, Inv. No. 1890.193. For a description and image, see Wolfgang Eckhardt et al., eds., Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Handbuch (Munich: Prestel, 1980), 92.

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Figure 69: Abraham Smesman, “Anfechtung und Trost eines Sterbenden,” Heidelberg, 1590 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB27024]

There is visual evidence from the Coburg Pentateuch for the early introduction of the hourglass into Jewish life as early as 1395 in an illustration of a Bible lesson from Germany, in which such a device hangs from the ceiling to time the duration of the lesson (see Figure 70).98 This is a clear indication that hourglasses measured not only menial labour but served also in the private realm to time the intellectual efforts of the master and his student.

98 In the Coburg Pentateuch, London, The British Library, Add. MS 19776, fol. 72v. Rabbinic responsa regarding the possession of an hourglass, whether by the teacher or by the student, are discussed by Elliott Horowitz, “The Way We Were: Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,” Jewish History 1, no. 1 (Spring, 1986): 82.

The Course of Time: The Hourglass 

 195

Figure 70: Coburg Pentateuch, Central Germany, 1390–1396, fol. 72v [London, The British Library,    Add. MS 19776]

The miniature hourglass in the Nuremberg Miscellany is close in form to a similar object made in Germany in 1506, probably for Christian religious use (see Figure 71).99 This partially gold-plated silver object, 8.5 cm in height, consists of two superimposed blown glass bulbs held together by a silk and gold thread.100

99 This assumption is founded on the decoration of the cross, the heart, and the monogram of Jesus on its base. See reproduction in Großmann et al., Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 95. 100 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. WI 1955, reproduced in Maué and Kupper, Treasures of German Art, 69. See also the hourglass, probably made in Nuremberg in the fifteenth-sixteenth century, Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. Z573.

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 Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions

Figure 71: Hourglass, Nuremberg, 1506 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, WI 1955]

A similarly formed item, made by Boas Ulrich in Augsburg around 1600, belonged to King Maximilian I of Bavaria. This object, too, is of modest dimensions, measuring merely 9.5 cm in height.101 Unrelated to a particular text, the hourglass in the Nuremberg Miscellany contains a coded message. Its placement beside a time-bound addition to the regular daily liturgy is a marker, reminding the reader to utter the appropriate blessing according to the respective festive event.

101 Kept in Munich, in the Residenz Schatzkammer. The hourglass is reproduced in Glaser, Wittelsbach, vol. II/2, no. 282, 194. A similar hourglass is hanging on a tree behind the evangelist Matthew in Luther’s first full Bible, Biblia das ist die gantze Heilige Schrift deutsch. Marth. Luth. Wittenberg. Begnadet mit Kurfürstlicher zu Sachsen freiheit. Gedruckt durch Hans Lufft. MDXXXIIII., reproduced in Jürgen Henryks, Bibel und Gesangbuch im Zeitalter der Reformation (Ausstellung zur Erinnerung an die 95 Thesen Martin Luthers vom Jahre 1517) (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1967), B12, 32 and fig. on 33.

Pelican, Squirrel, and Saw 

 197

Pelican, Squirrel, and Saw The major Jewish liturgical texts, such as the Grace after Meals, consist of a series of benedictions, each with its particular content and purpose, arranged in an explicit contextual order. The first four benedictions focus on God’s love and compassion and express gratitude for the abundant sustenance He provides.102 The third of these benediction follows along the same lines, expressing gratitude “for the land [of Israel] and for nourishment.”103 In the manuscript, the word ve'al (‫וְ ַעל‬, lit. “and for”), opening the third benediction, shows two birds: of one we see only the head and neck, which form the top part of the first letter ‫ו‬, and the other, a full-body depiction of a pelican, forms the entire last letter ‫( ל‬see Figure 72). The latter is a visual intimation of the meaning of the two images, which are part of the same iconography.

Figure 72: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 102 For the text, see above, 186. 103 In full, it reads: “For all this we thank You and praise You, Lord our God. You shall be forever praised by every living thing. Thus is it written in the Torah: ‘When you have eaten and are satisfied, you shall praise the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you.’ We praise You, Lord, for the land and for nourishment.” “The Land” here is to be identified as the Holy Land, or Ereẓ Israel.

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Several animals and aerians, which are indicated in the Hebrew Bible as proscribed for consumption and ritual (i.e., non-Kosher), have not been identified conclusively.104 One of them is the qa’at105 (‫)ק ַאת‬, ָ a fowl, which popular culture considers as a pelican. The qa’at explicitly appears in the Hebrew Bible among the twenty ritually impure fowl.106 Leviticus 11:18 mentions it along with the raḥam (‫ ָ)ר ָחם‬which is the extinct Neophron percnopterus or Egyptian vulture. The proximity of reference of the pelican and the vulture may have been the source of the belief in the extraordinary care of the pelican for its fledglings. Expounding on Leviticus 11:18, the Jewish exegete and philosopher from Spain, R. Abraham ibn Ezra (1089–1164) explains the etymology of the nomen qa’at by connecting it to the root from which the verb infinitive “to vomit” could be constructed (.‫א‬.‫י‬.‫)ק‬. According to this exegesis, the pelican is believed to be in the habit of actually vomiting its food. Ibn Ezra proceeds with interpreting the name raḥam, employing again the common root method: the fowl’s name shares the root .‫ם‬.‫ח‬.‫ ר‬with the verb “to have compassion.” The raḥam, he says, received its name by virtue of its attachment to its young. His exegesis is founded on a tradition of several centuries earlier. Already the Talmud quotes R. Yoḥanan as saying: “Why is it called raḥam? [The answer is that] when the raḥam came [into the world], compassion came into the world.”107 A similar quote can be found in the medieval midrash Yalquṭ Shim'oni.108 Jewish lore ascribes to the pelican the qualities of caregiving and compassion, reflected in the Nuremberg Miscellany on fols. 5v-6r. Here, the artist depicted the biblical aerians in the calligraphic decoration of a passage describing God’s care for and sustenance of His people. The upper part of the first letter ‫ ו‬of the word ‫ וְ ַעל‬has the shape of a chick waiting for its parent to feed it, while the parent’s body constructs the third letter of the word, ‫ל‬. Two additional aerians adorn the ascender of the same letter ‫ ל‬at the top line of the page. The closeness of the names of the two birds to the words in the benediction must have inspired the artist to not only depict the compassionate raḥam, but also to highlight the word raḥem (lit. “have compassion”) in a linguistic-visual pun. Although blemished and missing its upper part, fol. 6v visibly complements the message of the birds in the previous page with an image of a red squirrel feeding (see Figure 73). Sitting on its hind limbs and stabilising itself on its bushy 104 Lev 11:18 and Deut 14:17. 105 In Isa 34:11, Zeph 2:14; and Ps 102:7, it is mentioned as a bird living in desolate places. In BT Hullin 63a it is identified as the qoq (‫) קֹוק‬. 106 Lev 11:18 and Deut 14:17. 107 The raḥam is also called ‫ ַל ְקנִ י‬in BT Hullin 63a, and ‫ ֲאוָ ז ַהיָ ם‬in JT Kil’ayim 8:6. 108 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Shemini §537.

Pelican, Squirrel, and Saw 

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Figure 73: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 6v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

tail, it seems to be holding its food in its forelimbs, reaching it to its mouth. The illustration is adjacent to the last phrase of the fourth benediction of the Grace after Meals, closing the part of thanks for Divine sustenance and providence. The placement of the squirrel above the ascender of the letter ‫ ל‬in uppermost line of the text may be a reflection of the way the little rodent nourishes itself. Feeding mainly on a wide variety of plant food, including nuts, seeds, conifer cones, fruits, acorns, green vegetation, and berries, the squirrel is heavily dependent on the food it gathers and stores before the winter season.109 Squirrels are therefore symbolic of forward planning and saving for a rainy day. This image of self-sufficiency makes the squirrel an excellent choice to illustrate the last phrase of the benediction, “And please, let us not be dependent, Lord our God, on gifts or loans from flesh and blood, but rather on Your full, open, holy, and generous hand, so that we should never be humiliated or ashamed.” The initial word ‫( ַר ֵחם‬lit. “be compassionate”) on fol. 6r consists of three decorated letters (see Figure 74). The horizontal bar of the one in the middle, the ‫ח‬, has the shape of a saw.110 This word opens the fourth benediction of the Grace after Meals, which is a plea for mercy: “Have mercy, Lord our God, upon Israel Your people, upon Jerusalem Your city, upon Zion the abode of Your glory, upon the kingship of the house of David Your anointed, and upon the great and holy House over which Your Name was proclaimed.”

109 I am indebted to Prof. Marc Michael Epstein for suggesting this connection to me. 110 An earlier specimen of such a saw is depicted in a woodcut by Thomas Murner for the book entitled Tractatus Applicato of the Logica memorativa Chartiludium logicae / Sive totius dialectice memoria & notus Petri hyspani textus emendatus: Cum iucundo pictasmatis exeritio Eruditi virt. f. Thome Murner Argentini: ordinis minor: theologie doctors eximis, published by Johann Grüniger in Strassburg in 1508, a copy of which is in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. GNM 80 Ph DSM B 730, Zug.-Nr. 1956/50. It is reproduced in Hoffmann, Spiekarten, Cat. No. 130, 288.

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Figure 74: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 6r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

In this setting, the saw may indeed be a visual reference alluding to the construction of the Temple, “the great and holy House” in Jerusalem. Of all the precious materials that were used in the construction of the Solomonic Temple, the Lebanese cedar played a highly important role.111 King Solomon, who ordered the lumber from King Hiram of Tyre, sent out 30,000 workers to the Phoenician kingdom in Lebanon to obtain the cedar for the Temple, as is related in the First Book of Kings,112 So he built the house, and finished it; and he made the ceiling of the house of beams and planks of cedar. He built the structure against the whole house, each story five cubits high, and it was joined to the house with timbers of cedar.113

Moreover, the Bible tells us that not only the raw materials were imported from Tyre but also carpenters and masons who built the majestic palace or a 111 According to I Kgs 5:15–24, Chr 2:3, and Ezra 3:7. The cedar is mentioned seventy-five times in the Bible. 112 I Kgs 5:10–14. The massive quantities of wood brought in from Tyre placed Solomon in debt to King Hiram. As related in I Kgs 9:11, Solomon paid for the cedar wood by giving Hiram twenty towns in the Galilee. 113 I Kgs 6:9–1.

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public hall for David, called “The House of the Forest of Lebanon.”114 Earlier, his father Solomon, too, built a palace for himself for which he used cedar wood.115 The context of the saw illustrating a blessing in which the Temple is mentioned is therefore quite clear, all the more so as tradition maintains that it was Solomon who composed the blessing thanking God for the construction of Jerusalem incorporated in the Grace after Meals, “and the great and holy Temple that bears Your name”—the very text that is decorated with the initial letter made of a saw in the Nuremberg Miscellany.116

Apotropaic Fist At the foot of fol. 8r, the initial word ‫( ַּב ָּמרֹום‬baMarom, “in heaven”) is decorated with what seems to be ferocious dogs and an open-beaked bird that have been painted over the ink drawing (see Figure 75). The passage from the Grace after Meals reads: In heaven, may [they] invoke, upon them and upon us, such merit as will bring enduring peace. May we receive blessing from the Lord and kindness from God our deliverer, and may we find grace and good understanding in the eyes of God and man.

Figure 75: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 8r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 114 II Sam 5:11; I Kgs 7:2–3. The Bible mentions the wood of the cedar in other usages as well: making masts of ships (Ezek 27:5), constructing wardrobes (Ezek 27:24), building chariots (Song 3:9), treatment of leprosy (Lev 14:4–7, 49–52), preparing the water of separation (Num 19:6), and making idols (Isa 44:14). 115 I Kgs 7:2–5. The construction of the palace took thirteen years, while the building of the Temple took only seven years. 116 Cf. BT Berakhot 48b. The arrows in the last letter of the title word, as well as the halberd in the last letter of the upper title page on fol. 6v, are, perhaps, echoes of God’s “relief from all our afflictions”, mentioned in fourth blessing.

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The letter ‫ — מ‬the second in the initial word – stands out in its ornamentation. It presents two canidae, possibly dogs, and a human fist, curled and clenched with the thumb tucked under the forefinger, in a gesture often referred to as the “fig sign.”117 The Romans associated the fig with female fertility and eroticism, most likely because of its milky sap. The fruit of the fig tree was consecrated to a rustic Greek fertility god, Priapos, and to the Roman god of the wine, Bacchus, due to its abundance. It appears, however, already in ancient Egyptian apotropaic amulets and was likewise important among the Etruscans. With its protective powers against malevolent magical influences, people shaped it from different materials and carried it on their persons. In some areas of the world, however, the fig sign (mano fico) carries an obscene connotation, perhaps denoting the female genitalia. As such, it is used to repel demons, which are sensitive to any notion of eroticism and procreation. Quite in contrast, here the fig sign is considered a good omen, entrusted with the power to encourage fertility on the one hand and serving as a good luck charm on the other hand. Belief in the evil eye led to numerous instances of pleas to God to protect against demonic malevolence that were included in Jewish liturgy. A visual trace for the will—and need—to protect oneself against malice of supernatural beings and the evil eye is included here by means of association and interpretation of the quoted passage from the Grace after Meals, in the form of the fig sign.118 In the Germanic culture, the hand gesture known as die Feige weisen (lit. “showing the fig”) was a popular motif and was later the visual inspiration of

117 This gesture is associated by most scholars as a totally negative, offensive one. See, for example, the brief reference made by Loewenthal, “Amulets,” 6, where it is mentioned under the title “Offensive themes,” 3–12. 118 John B. Haviland, “Gesture as Cultural and Linguistic Practice,” in Linguistic Anthropology ([EOLSS]), ed. Anita Sujoldzić (Oxford: EOLSS Publishers, 2005), 2, argues that the meaning of signs and gestures is culture-dependent: “Despite speculative theories in the 18th century linking ‘natural’ systems of gesture to presumed universals in the genesis of language and expression, it has also been a commonplace among careful observers of gesture – especially the conventional and culturally specific manual holophrases known as ‘emblems’ – (1) that apparently identical gestural forms, involving handshapes and movements, may have radically different meanings from one society to another, or even within a single communicative tradition, and conversely (2) that different cultures use different ways of expressing similar ‘meanings’ in gesture.” Regarding the “fig” gesture and its various connotations, see Max S. Kirch, “NonVerbal Communication,” 418.

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the protective amulet called Feigenamulett in the vernacular.119 It enjoyed special popularity in Southern Germany.120 Following R. Manasseh b. Israel (ca. 1604–57), Joshua Trachtenberg maintains that a similar—though not identical—gesture of the “fig” existed in Jewish popular culture at least as early as in the Talmudic era.121 The Talmud refers to it in a passage that discusses preventive measures that one should take against all evil, If a man going into a town is afraid of the Evil Eye, let him take the thumb of his right hand in his left hand and the thumb of his left hand in his right hand, and say: I, so-and-so, am a descendent of Joseph, over whom the evil eye has no power.”122

While different from the fig and clenched fist, the Talmudic gesture served the very same purpose and is probably related to the apotropaic fig sign.123 Whether the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was inspired more by the Jewish or the German popular cultures is unclear, yet the insertion of the apotropaic fig sign into the initial word makes a strong iconographic statement. The relevant passage in the Grace after Meals, whose initial word contains the fig-fist form, is a plea for divine blessing, heavenly protection, and deliverance, which are the same powers sought in the amulets and the apotropaic fig. Thus, the

119 Such objects are reproduced in Hermann Peters, “Die historische-pharmazeutische und chemische Sammlung des Germanischen Nationalmuseums,” Mitteilungen aus dem Germanischen Nationalmuseum (Nuremberg: Verlageigentum des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 1913), 49–51 and fig. 4 on 50 (the author, however, does not discuss the feigenamulett—fig amulet— per se). An ethnological study on this specific type of amulet was the topic of a PhD dissertation by Lenz Kriss-Rettenbeck, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Munich, 1953, and subsequently published under the title “Feige.” Wort-Gebärde-Amulett. Ein Volkskundlicher Beitrag zur Amulettforschung (Munich: Filser / Basel: Verlag der Schweizerische Gesellschaft für Volkskunde G. Krebs, 1955). 120 Eduard Hoffmann-Krayer and Hanns Bächtold-Stäubli, Handwörterbch des deutschen Aberglaubens (Berlin: Directmedia, 2006), II. Bd., 1305–1309. “Fig amulets” were produced in many materials, mainly ivory, bronze, silver, glass, coral, precious and semi-precious stones, as well as lesser metals, and were also drawn or painted on parchment, paper, or wood. On such amulets, see Max S. Kirch, Deutsche Gebärdensprache (Hamburg: Helmut Buske Verlag 1995), 46–47. 121 See his discussion in his Jewish Magic and Superstition. A Study in Folk Religion (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 161–162, and his note on 175 that “The belief that a clenched fist, the ʽfig’, is anathema to demons, led to the practice of bending the fingers of a corpse so that even in the grave their depredations might be forestalled,” much to the rabbi’s dismay. 122 BT Berakhot 55b. 123 Desmond Morris et. al., Gestures, Their Origins and Distribution (New York: Stein and Day, 1979), 148–151.

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bird, along with the sword that comprises the left part of the last letter, is pleading delivery from the foes, depicted symbolically as barking dogs. A later hand added the double-headed creature in the upper margin of the page.

Sanctification of the New Moon On the bottom of the outer margin of fol. 10r, there is an illustration of a man holding an open book in his left hand (see Figure 76). His right forefinger is pointing to the moon crescent with human features set against a starry, partly cloudy sky. The text immediately adjacent to the image is Ya'aleh veYavo’ (‫)יַ ֲע ֶלה וְ יָבֹא‬, a temporal prayer which is added to the liturgy for festivals and Rosh Ḥodesh, marking the nascence of the new moon.124 The inclusion of Ya'aleh veYavo’ in the Rosh Ḥodesh liturgy must have led the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany to place this illustration next to the relevant text.

Figure 76: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

124 The Jewish year follows a luno-solar calendar, by which the months are determined by the cycle of the moon, as can be surmised from Exod 12:2, whereas the year follows the solar cycle. As the lunar months are shorter than those in the solar cycle, the Jewish three hundred and fiftyfour-day year is only a close-to-full solar year. In order to calibrate the two systems, an intercalary “leap month” is added seven times in every nineteen-year Metonic cycle of two hundred and thirty-five lunar months according to defined rules, to make up for the eleven-day discrepancy between the lunar year and the three hundred and sixty-five-day solar year.

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According to rabbinic tradition, the first commandment given to the Israelites, even before their deliverance from Egypt, was to sanctify the new moon, “The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, ‘This month shall be for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you.’”125 The Israelites’ adoption of the lunar system to keep track of time was a break from the solar calendar, associated with the worship of the Egyptian deity Ra. Defining the New Moon, namely the time of the first visible crescent of the moon at its renewal and the start of every month in the Jewish calendar, is of highest importance.126 Without determining the New Moon, the calculation of the Jewish year, and hence the appropriate observance of the Jewish appointed times, would be impossible. Before the adoption of a calculated calendar, the central religious court in Jerusalem, the Sanhedrin,127 proclaimed the renewal of each month based on testimonies of individuals who had observed the new, slender crescent of the moon.128 Rosh Ḥodesh, marking the renewal of the moon, is a mo'ed or an “appointed time” of special closeness between God and the Israelites, and is considered a semi-festival.129 Historically, it was marked with a festive meal and the blowing of a shofar as well as some other customs, discontinued over the course of time. The institution of a fixed Jewish calendar superseded the traditional, empiric method; however, its symbolic importance remained intact. To this day, it is customary to recite Ya'aleh veYavo’ as well as the Benediction of the [New] Moon

125 Exod 12:1–2. See also Lev 23:4. Calculation of the Jewish calendar is based on Gen 1:14–16: “And God said: ‘Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days and years; and let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth.’ And it was so. And God made the two great lights: the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night; and the stars.” The word “signs” is a translation of the Hebrew mo'adim (appointed times)—the same word that also means “festivals.” Cf. Lev 23:4. 126 As it is said in Ps 104:19: “Who appointest the moon for seasons; the sun knoweth his going down.” Setting the fixed Hebrew calendar is attributed to Hillel II, the head of the Sanhedrin between 320 and 385 CE. It seems, however, that in practice, the evolution of the calendar into its present form was a gradual process. It is assumed that it was still developed as late as the eighth or ninth century. See Stern, Calendar and Community, 184–185. 127 The word sanhedrin was introduced into the Hebrew language from the Greek συνέδριον (sitting together, assembly). It designated the supreme religious body in the Land of Israel at the time of the Temple until the abolition of the rabbinic patriarchate in about 425 CE. 128 See further Sacha Stern, “The Rabbinic New Moon Procedure: Context and Significance,” in Living the Lunar Calendar, ed. Jonathan Ben-Dov, Wayne Horowitz, and John M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow, 2012), 211–230. 129 Lev 23:4, Num 10:10.

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(Birkat haLevanah), also known as Kiddush Levanah or, literally, Sanctification of the Moon,130 on that occasion.131 The ritual of Sanctification of the New Moon stems from the early rabbinic literature.132 It probably took shape later, in the Talmudic period, gradually substituting the Sanctification of the Month (Kiddush haḤodesh) which had been part of the ritual performed at the Temple.133 The text of the Sanctification of the New Moon that was already laid down in the Talmud became part of the codified liturgy.134 The ritual includes the recital of the blessing outdoors, facing west, while gazing at the waxing moon marking the beginning of the new month.135 It is permissible to recite the Benediction of the [New] Moon until the middle of the month, either privately or in a communal setting, as long as the moon is visible and still waxing.136 Nevertheless, it has become almost invariably customary to recite it in public after the termination of synagogue services at the close of the first Shabbat of the new month.137 This stipulation follows Masekeht Soferim, an extra-canonical, post-Talmudic tractate, which maintains that the recitation time of this benediction must be the night after the termination of Shabbat, when one is still finely dressed and perfumed for the holy day.138 The Babylonian Talmud

130 This is the term preferred by Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim §426 and other post-Talmudic sources. 131 See the extensive discussion by Gartner, The Evolvement of Customs, 206–224 (Hebrew). 132 The source for this custom is an external ruling, not included in the canonical Mishnah, namely a baraita in Soferim 20:1, 2. 133 BT Sanhedrin 41b–42a. 134 Op. cit., 42a. Cf. Yaakov Gartner, “Qiddush Levanah: the Metamorphosis of a Benediction,” Asufot. Yearbook for Jewish Studies 6 (1991): 327–343 (Hebrew). 135 BT Sanhedrin 42b, reads as follows: “Said Rabbi Aḥa bar Ḥanina in the name of Rabbi Asi in the name of Rabbi Yohanan: Reciting the blessing over the moon at the proper time is like greeting the shekhinah (lit. Heb. “dwelling”, denoting the feminine essence in God’s presence) personally . . . It was taught in the school of Rabbi Ishmael: If the Israelites were privileged to greet their father in heaven once a month, that would be enough for them. Said Abaye: Therefore we should say the blessing standing up (as though greeting God). Meremar and Mar Zutra went so far as to climb up on one another’s shoulders while saying the blessing.” 136 BT Sanhedrin 41b and JT Berakhot 89, §2. Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 426:4 presents a different opinion, as do the commentators to this stipulation, ad loc. 137 Some authorities argue, however, that it is preferable to perform the ritual only seven days after the first appearance of the new moon. Yet, as stipulated in Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim, 426, 2, in two instances the communal recitation of the benediction takes place at a different time: on the tenth of the month of Tishrei immediately after the conclusion of the services for the Yom Kippur, and following Tish'a B’av, the fast commemorating the destruction of the Temple, celebrated on the ninth of Av. 138 Soferim 19:10.

Sanctification of the New Moon 

 207

further quotes one of the leading sages in the third century CE, Abaye (Babylonia, d. 339) as saying: “Therefore we must recite it standing.”139 The posture of the man depicted on fol. 10r of the Nuremberg Miscellany indeed complies with the custom of the Sanctification of the New Moon according to the written sources. He is tilting his head upwards, directing his gaze towards the sky while pointing with his forefinger to the moon crescent. Due to damage inflicted on the bottom part of the page, the exact position of his legs is a matter of conjecture. It is not clear whether the portrayal is, in fact, of a man merely standing, as prescribed by Abaye, or “dancing,” following Soferim 20:1. The latter describes a special ritual gesture of rising to tiptoe three times while reciting the benediction. Furthermore, the liturgy itself includes a verse directed to the moon, in which the performer utters: “Just as I dance toward you but cannot touch you,140 so may none of my enemies be able to touch me for evil.”141 The man in the image, dressed in his Shabbat best, is wearing a flat beret, a sleeveless coat, and green breeches. His exquisite clothing, unique in the manuscript, complies with explicit prescriptions in Soferim: “One blesses the moon only on Moẓa’ei Shabbat (lit. “exit of Shabbat”, the termination of Shabbat) when one is clean and dressed in fine clothing . . .”142 A curious feature in the Miscellany is the human facial features given to the moon.143 Some early sources ascribe human characteristics to the moon, leading to its anthropomorphic representation by artists. One midrash discussed above tells of a rivalry between the sun and the moon regarding the sovereignty over the illumination of the world, in which the moon is not only speaking to God, but also expressing “human” feelings. To console the moon for being the “lesser light,”144 God decreed: “Go! Israel shall use you to count the days and the years.”145 A different interpretation of the moon’s human features is offered by the thirteenth-century German rabbi and religious leader Maharam of Rothenburg

139 BT Sanhedrin 42a. On the liturgy for the celebration of the New Moon, see Ismar Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy. A Comprehensive History, trans. Raymond P. Scheindlin (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1993), 94–106. 140 In the Bible and in early rabbinical texts, reference is often made to the moon as the ‫ ְל ָבנָ ה‬in the feminine form, rather than to the generally preferred interchangeable usage in the masculine form, ‫יָ ֵר ַח‬, or the less common term, ‫ס ַהר‬, ַ also a masculine noun. 141 Masekeht Soferim 20:1–2. 142 See Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim §426, no. 2. See, in general, on Jewish clothing, Ida Posen, “Judentrachten.” Menorah 6, nos. 11–12 (1928): 681–684; and Alfred Rubens. A History of Jewish Costume. London: Littlehampton Book Services, 1973. 143 See discussion on anthropomorphism of the constellations above, 114–121. 144 As per Gen 1:16. 145 BT Hullin 60b.

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(R. Meir b. Baruch, c. 1215–1293) in his Book of Customs, stipulating that one should recite a formula whose acrostic reads “Ya'aqov,” “because the image of Ya'aqov (the patriarch Jacob) is portrayed in the moon.”146 Maharam may be referring to the piyyuṭ Amar Adonai LeYa'aqov (“God said to Jacob” ‫)א ַמר ה´ ְליַ ֲעקֹב‬ ָ of an unknown early origin, traditionally sung at the farewell to Shabbat. Its stanzas, arranged acrostically according to the Hebrew alphabet, quote verses of blessing, comfort, and consolation that were either spoken to or speak of Jacob, with a repetitive responsive from Jeremiah 46:27 and 28: “Fear not, O Jacob my servant.” This tradition, too, may explain the face that appears as part of the moon crescent in the Nuremberg Miscellany. Depictions of the sun and moon with full or partial human features have a long tradition in Jewish iconography, which goes back at least to the first centuries of the Common Era. As mentioned earlier, in several synagogues adorned with floor mosaics, the central motif is that of the celestial cycle with Helios the sun god in his quadriga at the centre, surrounded by the zodiac signs and representations of the four seasons.147 Such anthropomorphism of the luminaries became a widespread Jewish artistic convention that was common also in medieval manuscripts, especially in prayer books for the festivals (maḥzorim), as part of the iconography of the zodiac signs and labours of the months appended to the special Prayer for Dew and the Blessing for Rain. The artist of the Miscellany was evidently familiar with this visual convention and textual tradition, which was popular in his area and incorporated into other contemporary books. One close example is in Günzburg’s Yiddish Minhogim Bukh from 1593, published in Venice for both the local Ashkenazi clientele and for the Ashkenazi readership all over Central and Western Europe.148 Of its numerous

146 Sefer Minhagim of the School of Rabbi Meir ben Baruch of Rothenburg by an Anonymous Author, ed. Israel Elfenbein (New York: Bet ha-midrash le-rabanim ba-Amerikah, 1938; photo reproduction edition, Jerusalem: 1968), 17 (Hebrew). 147 One of the earliest examples is found in the synagogue of Hammat Tiberias of the third century. See detail in Sed-Rajna, Jüdische Kunst, 50, fig. 74. See also the central medallion of the central panel of the floor mosaic from Beit Alfa reproduced there, 155, fig. 77. 148 On the book, see mainly Morris Epstein, “Simon Levi Ginzburg’s Illustrated Custumal (Minhagim-Book) of Venice, 1593, and its Travels,” Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, D2: Art, Folklore, Theatre, Music, (1969) 197−218; Jean Baumgarten, “The Seyfer ha-minhogim by Shimon ben Yehuda ha-Levi Guenzburg (Venice, 1593) and the Origin of an Old Yiddish Literary Tradition,” in Between Yiddish and Hebrew, ed. Shlomo Berger (Amsterdam: Menasseh ben Israel Institute, 2012), 7−35; idem, “Sefer Haminhagim (Venice, 1593) and its Dissemination in the Ashkenazi World,” in Minhagim: Custom and Practice in Jewish Life (Rethinking Diaspora 3), ed. Joseph Isaac Lifshitz, Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, Simha Goldin et al. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020,) 83−98; as well as Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “How Italian are the Venice

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woodcuts, one shows the Blessing of the New Moon in an iconography similar to the one employed by our artist as far as the celestial bodies are concerned (see Figure 77). In the printed book, however, three men are performing the ritual. They are dressed like the man in the Miscellany, although none of them holds a prayer book. The man in the foreground points to the anthropomorphic moon, surrounded by stars and clouds.149

Figure 77: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 15v [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

Jews determine the conclusion of Shabbat or a festival by making sure that three stars are visible in the sky. Although it is common to see the moon and the stars at the same time, the iconographic inclusion of the stars in the illustration of the Blessing of the Moon is, nevertheless, an indication of the time and place of the depicted ritual. It typically takes place outdoors, often outside the synagogue or in its courtyard after the evening services, when the nocturnal celestial bodies are Minhagim,” 177–205; idem, “Gender in Woodcut and Engraving: Images from Jewish Venice at the Turn of the 17th Century (A Re-Examination of Sefer haMinhagim, Venice, 1593 and 1601),” in Ein Leben für die jüdische Kunst. Gedenkband für Hannelore Künzl, ed. Michael Graetz (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter, 2003), 101–117. 149 Other examples of human-faced luminaries are reproduced in Carlebach, Palaces of Time.

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visible. Thus, the Jewish celebration of the new month and Shabbat—the day of rest—are symbolically linked to one another as tokens of gratitude for the weekly and monthly cycles of time. The inclusion of clouds in the iconography of the scene seems to be of no significance, yet we may not overlook this minor detail, especially given the climatic circumstances prevailing in Central Europe and the paucity of cloudless nights the year round. The recitation of the Sanctification of the New Moon requires full or nearly full visibility of the moon. The effect of clouds on performing this miẓvah is dealt with in the responsa Terumat haDeshen by R. Israel b. Petaḥiah Isserlein (1390–1460). His ruling is that although the close of Shabbat is the preferred time for the ritual, it is permissible to perform it also on a clear weekday. Isserlein recommends doing so rather than wait for a Shabbat when the sky is not overcast and the moon is visible in order not to miss the opportunity to bless the new moon while it is still waxing.150 Therefore, the sky in the illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany is deliberately not only studded with stars but also clear enough of clouds to make visible the moon in all her facial glory.

Judith and Holofernes The bottom right margin of fol. 10v contains the additional benediction incorporated into the liturgy of Ḥanukkah (Feast of Lights), which commemorates the deliverance of the Jews from the Syro-Greek (Seleucid) oppressors in 168 BCE.151 The benediction, recited in the 'amidah and in the Grace after Meals in remembrance of the event, 'al haNissim, is an expression of gratitude to God for performing miracles of salvation for the People of Israel. It refers specifically to the triumph of the few over the many and the weak over the mighty, achieved by the Hasmonean priest Mattathias and his sons.152 The composite illustration, however, does not show the Hasmonean feats of victory, but rather portrays a woman brandishing a short curved sword in her right hand and holding a bearded human head in her left hand (see Figure 78). The inscription to her right identifies her as ‫( יודית‬transliterated “Yudit”)—a common Yiddishised version of the Hebrew name ‫הּודית‬ ִ ְ‫( י‬Yehudit).153 Lying beside her is the beheaded body of Holofernes, commander-in-chief of the neo-Babylonian 150 Terumat haDeshen §35, s.v. ‫יראה‬. 151 Ḥanukkah is one of the two post-biblical historical festivals, the other being Purim. 152 Shulhan 'Arukh, Orah Hayyim 682:1. In a baraita incorporated in BT Megillah 11a, he is said to have been the High Priest. 153 See, for example, Responsa of Mahari Bruna §24, s.v. ‫בתש´ הרא˝ש‬.

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Figure 78: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

king Nebuchadnezzar, with the inscription ‫( אליפורני‬transliterated here as “Aliforni”, denoting Holofernes) above him.154 The iconographic reading of the scene is unequivocal thanks to the captions identifying its two protagonists. The illusration captures the climax of the story told in the apocryphal, deuterocanonical Book of Judith.155 The story

154 The variation ‫( אליפורני‬Aliforni) for the name Holofernes is found, for example, in Midrash Ma'aseh Yehudit (Hemdat Yamim. Derashot leShabatot uleMo'adim, Lo Noda' Shem Meḥabro, part 2, Hanukkah, chap. 2), in Eisenstein, Otsar Midrashim, vol. 1, 204. Compare also the story as told in Megillat Yehudit (The Scroll of Judith), studied by Susan Weingarten, “Food, Sex, and Redemption in Megillat Yehudit (the ‘Scroll of Judith’),” The Sword of Judith; Judith Studies Across the Disciplines, ed. Kevin R. Brine, Elena Ciletti, and Henrike Lähnemann (Cambridge: Open Book Publishers, 2010), 97−125. The author also provides a synopsis of the extant versions and an annotated translation into English of the Megillah, 110−125. Here, too, the name of the villain is rendered as Aliforni. 155 The original Hebrew version of the book has not been preserved. The oldest extant rendition is the Greek translation of the Septuagint. For a scientific edition, see the classical study by Jehoshua M. Grinz, Sefer Yehudit: Tahazoret haNosah haMekori beTseruf Mavo, Perushim uMaftehot (The Book of Judith: A Reconstruction of the Original Hebrew Text. With Introduction, Commentary, Appendices and Indices) (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1986) (Hebrew). For a translation to English, see Morton S. Enslin, The Book of Judith: Greek Text with an English Translation, Commentary and Critical Notes, edited with a general introduction and appendices by Solomon Zeitlin (Leiden: E.J. Brill for Dropsie University, 1972). See also Bernard H. Mehlman, “Maaseh Yehudit – a Chanukkah Midrash,” Journal of Reform Judaism 26, no. 1 (1979), 73–91. The book was well received

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occurs during the time of the Babylonian occupation of Judah, which ended with the destruction of the First Temple in 422 BCE and the exile to Babylonia of the middle-class and noble families of Judah. Excluded from the canonised Hebrew Bible, it has nonetheless always been present tangential to Jewish lore, as will be explained later.156 The rabbis linked it to an event three centuries after the original happenings of the story—the Hasmonean victory over Antiochus IV, which is the foundational story of the festival of Ḥanukkah. The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, too, followed the long tradition of transposing the story of deliverance from the yoke of the neo-Babylonian king to the era of the Hasmonean revolt. Its roots probably lie in the Latin translation of the Book of Judith in the Vulgate, yet it is documented in writing only from the Middle Ages onward. The red tinge dotting on the blade of the sword in Judith’s hand represents the blood of the decapitated villain.157 Judith is holding the head by its hair, as it is said: “And when she had drawn it [i.e., the sword] out, she took him by the hair of his head, and said: Strengthen me, O Lord God, at this hour.”158 Judith is richly clad, as befitting a woman of status set out to seduce, yet her image is devoid of any suggestion of eroticism, frequently found in her portrayal in Christian art.159 As she prepared herself to meet Holofernes, the Book of Judith tells us,

in the sixteenth century, as can be attested to in Ele'azar b. Judah of Worms (a.k.a. Rokeah), Commentary on the Prayerbook, Hanukkah, 717 (Hebrew). An interesting angle is viewed by Barbara Schmitz, War, Violence and Tyrannicide in the Book of Judith (Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Yearbook) (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010) 103–119. The author examines the story of Judith against what she considers as the first tyrannicide in Western history, the Attic epic of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 156 See 214, 218. 157 According to Judith 13:8, the heroine used Holofernes’ own sword to kill him. 158 Ibid. 13:9. 159 See, for example, the painting on linewood by Hans Baldung Grien, “Judith with the Head of Holofernes” of 1525, in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. GM 1093. It is reproduced in Maué and Kupper, Treasures, 83. Judith, totally nude save a diadem on her head and some rings on her fingers, is holding a clean sword in one hand, and Holofernes’ head in the other. In the alabaster sculpture of 1512–1514, created by Conrat Meit, she is utterly naked. See Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 103 and description on 102. On Judith in Christian art, see also Ela Nutu, “Framing Judith: Whose Text. Whose Gaze, Whose Language?” in The Text and the Canvas. The Bible and Art in Dialogue (The Bible in the Modern World, 13), ed. J. Cheryl Exum and Ela Nutu (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2009), 117–144. However, in the ninth century, bishop Hrabanus Maurus of Mainz used an entirely different tone regarding Judith, as mentioned by Weingarten, “Food, Sex, and Redemption”, 107−108.

Judith and Holofernes 

 213

. . . she took off the sackcloth she had on, laid aside the garments of her widowhood, washed her body with water, and anointed it with rich ointment. She arranged her hair and bound it with a fillet, and put on the festive attire she had worn while her husband, Manasseh, was living. She chose sandals for her feet, and put on her anklets, bracelets, rings, earrings, and all her other jewellery. Thus she made herself very beautiful, to captivate the eyes of all the men who should see her.160

The context of the scene provides an iconographic clue for identifying the city of Bethulia, depicted at the far right of the illustration. Bethulia was a city in Samaria that had been under siege by Holofernes for the neo-Babylonian king. Here it is depicted as a typical central European medieval city, with its fortified walls, towers, battlements, and gates, and gabled roofs and spires delineating its skyline.161 The fact that a German setting served to depict a townscape that is temporally, geographically and culturally remote from Germany or Europe in general is natural, given the fact that for the vast majority of the population (including artists), their homeland was the only familiar landscape.162 The head stuck on a post on the turret above the locked city gate is, once again, that of Holofernes. The Book of Judith relates that after her return to Bethulia, Judith spoke to the inhabitants of the city and their leaders, retelling her victory, “and Judith said to all the people: ‘Hear me, my brethren, hang up this head upon our walls.’”163 This text underlay the artist’s description of the spiked head, in addition to the one in Judith’s hand. Faithfully following the narrative of the Judith story in many details of the illustration, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany nonetheless excluded the image of the maidservant who accompanied her to Holofernes’ encampment. In the textual source, she not only escorted Judith,164 but also carried along provi-

160 Judith 10:3–4. 161 See, for example, the so-called “Zimmerbrunnen,” an etching made around 1570 in Nuremberg and ascribed to Mathias Zündt, Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, GNM Inv. No. HB 2291, reproduced in Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, 367–77. Although extremely abstract, reflecting no specific cityscape, it is nonetheless typical of the period. 162 See, for example, the woodcut from an anonymous newsletter depicting the Aztec city of Tenochtitlán, published in Neue Zeitung. Von dem lande, das die Spanier funden haben ym 1521. Iare genant Jucatan, of ca. 1522. In all its urban details, including the shape of the rooftops and what seems to be church buildings, it is no different from any depiction of a contemporary German or central European city. See Peter Hess, “Marvelous Encounters. Albrecht Dürer and Early Sixteenth-Century German Perceptions of Aztec Culture,” Daphnis. Zeitschrift für Mittlere Deutsche Literatur 33, nos. 1–2 (2004): 186, illus. 4. 163 Judith 14:1. 164 Ibid. 8:32.

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sions,165 and kept watch while her mistress Judith was in the chamber.166 After a while, it is told, Judith “went out, delivered the head of Holofernes to her maid, and bade her put it into her wallet.”167 While the omission of the maidservant contradicts the apocryphal narrative, it follows later traditions that sought to elevate Judith to the sole hero in the Ḥanukkah story.168 Rashi’s grandson, R. Samuel b. Meir (Rashbam), explicitly identified the main figure of the festival’s story as Judith. This tradition was consolidated in the next generation, as attested by the late twelfth-early thirteenth century R. Abraham b. Nathan haYarḥi (acronym Ra’aban) from Provence: “the miracle [of Ḥanukkah] came through Yehudit of the Hasmoneans.”169 It is plausible that the similarity of the name “Judith” to its masculine form, “Judah” led to the association of Judith with Judas Maccabeus, the Hasmonean hero.170 Although the original Hebrew version of the Book of Judith had long been lost, it was translated back into Hebrew in the Middle Ages and thus the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany may have been familiar with it. Alternatively, his source could have been a later copy of one of the three known poetic rhymed renditions of the Judith story in Middle-High German, the earliest of which dates back to the late twelfth century.171 Moreover, parts of the Judith story were incorporated also into midrashim, such as Midrash Ma'aseh Yehudit, probably dating from the tenth century. These were recited in the Middle Ages on the Shabbat that

165 Judith 10:5 relates: “And she gave to her maid a bottle of wine to carry, and a vessel of oil, and parched corn, and dry figs, and bread and cheese, and went out.” 166 Ibid. 13:5. 167 Ibid. 13:11. 168 See Tosafot to BT Pesahim 108b, s.v. ‫ ;היו באותו‬and Tosafot to BT Megillah 4a, s.v. ‫שאף הן‬. 169 [Yitzhak Raphael], Sefer Hamanhig. Rulings and Customs. R. Abraham ben Nathan of Lunel. Published according to the Oxford MS with Additions and Variants in the New York and Vatican MSS and the Constantinople Edition with Introduction, Indication of Sources, Parallels, Notes and explanations by Dr Yitzhak Raphael, vol. II (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1978), rulings for the reading of the megillah, 249, s.v. ‫ונשים חייבות‬. Cf. Kol Bo §44, s.v. ‫בכ˝ה בכסלו‬. 170 That this association may have had an internal Jewish polemic overtone is suggested by Nicolae Roddy, “The Way it Wasn’t: the Book of Judith as Anti-Hasmonean Propaganda,” Studia Hebraica 8 (2008): 269−277. 171 See Urban Küsters, “Bibelepik und höfisches Erzählen; Die mittelhochdeutschen JudithGedichte,” in Welch ein Buch! Die Bibel als Weltliteratur, ed. Wilhelm Gössmann (Stuttgart: Radius, 1991), 37.

Judith and Holofernes 

 215

falls on Ḥanukkah,172 and have inspired piyyuṭim for Ḥanukkah that eventually became part of the normative liturgy for the festival.173 Images of Judith and Holofernes were not a much-favoured theme in medieval art in general,174 and in Jewish art in particular, mainly because the Book of Judith had not been incorporated into the canonical Hebrew Bible.175 Some of these rare instances from Ashkenaz are important for the reconstruction of a typological iconography of the scene in the manuscript. An early portrayal of two episodes from the story of Judith features in the North French Miscellany from northern France from 1277–1324.176 In the upper panel, the heroine is shown conversing with Holofernes, who is sitting on a throne with a coronet on his head, while in the bottom panel she reaches for his hair (and coronet?) with her right hand and decapitates him with his sword, 172 As Ḥanukkah lasts eight days, Shabbat may occur even twice during the holiday. Ḥanukkah is barely mentioned in the Mishnah except for brief, sporadic references (such as Bikkurim 1:6; Rosh Hashanah 1:3; Ta'anit 2:10; Megillah 3:4, 6; Mo'ed Katan 3:9; and Bava Kamma’ 6:6), but is dealt with in BT Shabbat 21. This is the basis for the traditionally accepted recension on the story and customs of the festival. 173 See Elisabeth Hollender, “Zur Beschreibung der Makkabäer in mittelalterlichen Piyyutim zu Hanukkah” in We-zot le-Angelo; raccolta di studi giudaici in memoria di Angelo Vivian, ed. Giulio Busi (Bologna: AISG, 1993), 263–274. 174 The early fourteenth century depiction in La Somme le Roi, St John’s College, Cambridge, MS B.9, fol. 221r, shows Holofernes as a crowned king in his canopied bed, while Judith is beheading him with a sword. See Montague Rhodes James, A Descriptive Catalogue of the Manuscripts in the Library of St. John’s College, Cambridge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1913), 291, no. 256; M. Paul Meyer, Romania VIII (1879): 309–324. Often, Judith’s maid is also shown, as in the woodcut in The Golden Legend, Westminster: William Caxton, ca. 1483–84, Glasgow University Library, Sp. Coll, Hunterian Bg.1.1 fol. 80r, or in the Three Biblical Studies within an Architectural Frame: Lot and his Daughters; The Drunkenness of Noah; Judith and Holofernes by Hans Holbein the Younger, painted ca. 1535, kept in London, The British Museum, no. 1926,0410.2, and others. On Judith in Christian art, see Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, “‘The Lord has Struck Him Down by the Hand of a Woman’! Images of Judith,” in Adams and Apostolos-Cappadona, Art as Religious Studies, 81–97; and Elizabeth Philpot, “Judith and Holofernes: Changing Images in the History of Art,” in Translating Religious Texts: Translation, Transgression and Interpretation, ed. David Jasper (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993), 80–97. See also André Marie Dubarle, Judith. Formes et sens des diverses Traditions (Rome: Institut biblique pontifical, 1966). 175 The most comprehensive studies on the imagery of Judith in Jewish art are by Mira Friedman, “The Metamorphoses of Judith,” Jewish Art 12–13 (1986–1987): 225–246; and Kurt Schubert, “Makkabäer- und Judithmotive in der jüdischen Buchmalerei,” Aachener Kunstblätter 60 (1994): 333–342. 176 London, The British Library, Add. 11639, fol. 121r, reproduced in Ursula and Kurt Schubert, Jüdische Buchkunst (Buchkunst im Wandel der Zeiten, Band 5/1), I. Teil (Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, 1983), fig. 34.

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which she holds in her left hand. The caption that accompanies this painting reads, “This is Judith as she chopped the emperor’s skull.”177 The Hamburg Miscellany from Germany, probably penned and illustrated in Mainz in 1434, includes three scenes from the story of Judith that visually correspond to the iconography of the piyyuṭ for Ḥanukkha Odkha Ki Anafta Bi (‫)אֹודָך ִכי ָאנַ ְפ ָּת ִּבי‬, ְ composed by Josef b. Solomon of Carcassone, probably in the eleventh century (see Figure 79).178 In

Figure 79: Hamburg Miscellany, Mainz (?), Germany, 1434, fol. 81r [Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Heb. 37]

177 The Hebrew reads: ‫וזה יהודית כאשר קצצה גולגולת קיסר‬. 178 Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Heb. 37, fols. 80v-81r, reproduced in Friedman, “Metamorphoses,” 226, fig. 2. See Zsófia Buda, “Sacrifice and Redemption in the Hamburg Miscellany. The Illustrations of a Fifteenth Century Ashkenazi Manuscript,” PhD diss. (Central European University, Budapest, 2012), 199–204. An in-depth study of the Judith story in Jewish art, relating it to the horrors of the First Crusade, is offered by Sarit Shalev-Eyni, “Martyrdom and Sexuality: The Case of an Eleventh-Century Piyyut for Hanukkah and its Visual Interpretation in the Fifteenth Century,” in Conflict and Religious Conversion in Latin Christendom: Studies in Honour of Ora Limor, ed. Israel Jacob Yuval and Ram Ben-Shalom (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), 133−165. For the piyyuṭ – a yoẓer – see Israel Davidson, Otzar haShira veHaPiyyut (Thesaurus of Medieval Hebrew Poetry), 3 vols. (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1924−1930) (Hebrew) vol. 1 (1924), no. 76, 1651. See especially 156−158.

Judith and Holofernes 

 217

first illustration in the sequence, Judith is shown facing Holofernes who is standing in front of his tent. On the ensuing page, the protagonist is shown beheading the villain in the encampment, while in the third image she is portrayed returning to Bethulia with her maidservant—an iconographic detail totally absent from the Nuremberg Miscellany. A different approach and interpretation of the role of Judith in Jewish history and lore appears in a woodcut decorating the Prague Haggadah of 1526 (see Figure 80). Surrounding the page of Shfokh (Heb. “Pour [Your wrath],” from Psalms 79:6), the composition includes Adam and Eve flanking the text in the upper part and below them, respectively, Samson carrying the gates of Gaza and Judith holding a sword in her left hand and Holofernes’ head in her right, with no further attributes or iconographic details. According to Mira Friedman, the juxtaposition of the two heroes

Figure 80: Prague Haggadah, Prague: Gershom and Gronem Katz, 1526, fol. 24r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-97b]

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 Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions

.  .  . implies that both Samson and Judith allude to the revenge on the foes of Israel and were there considered as the chosen instruments of Divine Providence and justice. Their deliverance of the Jewish people was therefore considered a prototype of the messianic redemption . . .179

These few notable instances of early depictions of the story of Judith in Jewish art from Ashkenaz illustrate the power of lore and custom in determining folk tradition. Although the deuterocanonical book relating the story of a female protagonist did not merit inclusion in the canon of the Hebrew Bible, it resonates with biblical stories of national deliverance through a woman, such as Yael, the wife of Heber the Kenite (Judges 4–5) and Esther, the heroine of Purim. These narrations may have contributed to elevating Judith to that status as well, albeit without overcoming the powers that prevented its inclusion in the Bible. Much like the central role allotted to Esther, so did Ḥanukkah become strongly associated with relief by a shrewd and brave woman who used her good looks, wisdom, and guile to save her people.180 It is from this perspective that one should regard the image at the bas-de-page of fol. 10v of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Presumably, the artist sought to add a feminine angle to the “official” story of deliverance by the all-male Hasmoneans, retold in the 'al haNissim addendum to the thanksgiving benediction recited in the 'amidah and in the Grace after Meals. Thus, he portrayed Judith triumphant just below the text of 'al haNissim, in an unusual example of text-image relationship based on an absent text that was, however, very much present in the artist’s mind. In the initial words 'al haNissim in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the letter ‫ל‬ in the word ‫“( ַעל‬For [the Miracles]”) is shaped like a cloven-hoofed bovine (see Figure 78). This fact is significant in the context of the miracle of Ḥanukkah as well. The text refers not only to the Hasmonean victory, but also particularly to the purification of the Temple in Jerusalem, defiled by the enemy,181 and its

179 Friedman, “The Metamorphoses of Judith”, 228. The author does not provide any solid substantiation for this statement. 180 An interesting example of the association between Judith and Ḥanukkah comes from the legend on the backplate of a Western European Ḥanukkah lamp from the eighteenth century in the holdings of the Strauss Collection in the Magnes Museum in Berkeley, no. 67.1.04.39a-b. The parchment medallion decorating it shows Judith holding a sabre and the head of Holofernes. The inscription on it praises Judith for her courageousness. It also mentions another historical heroine, Yael, who is not related to these historical events at all. Judith the heroine is depicted as the main motif on Ḥanukkah lamps from other parts of the Jewish diaspora as well, mainly from Italy and Germany. 181 Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 682:1.

The Horse of the Purim Story 

 219

rededication (Heb. ḥanukkah) necessary for the renewal of the sacrificial rituals, although the resumption of animal sacrifices is not explicitly mentioned in it.182 In this context, the bovine forming the ‫ ל‬in the opening word is presumably an allusion to the recommencement of animal sacrifices at the Temple. After recovering Jerusalem and the Temple, Judas Maccabeus ordered to purify the Temple, to build a new altar instead the defiled one, and to make new sacred utensils. According to halakhah, only ritually pure (Kosher) animals are suitable for sacrifice. Biblical and later Jewish dietary laws define such animals as quadrupeds that both chew their cud and have a cloven hoof.183 Animals that satisfy only one of the two conditions may not be offered.184 The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany depicted the animal in an unnatural posture, turning its head backwards, yet with hooves crossed and outstretched, demonstrating its eligibility as a sacrificial offering in the Temple.

The Horse of the Purim Story The opening words of 'al haNissim for the festival of Purim are aptly decorated. At the top of fol. 11v, the initial word ‫“( ַעל‬For [the Miracles]”) and the entire text of the special addition for Purim are inscribed, following the blessing recited on Ḥanukkah. The ascender of the second letter, the ‫ל‬, is composed of a horse’s head, while the diagonal line at its base is a hoofed leg (see Figure 81).

182 The full text reads, in translation: “We thank You also for the miraculous deeds and for the redemption and for the mighty deeds and the saving acts wrought by You, as well as for the wars which You waged for our ancestors in ancient days at this season. In the days of the Hasmonean Mattathias, son of Yoḥanan the high priest, and his sons, when the iniquitous Greco(-Syrian) kingdom rose up against Your people Israel, to make them forget Your Torah and to turn them away from the ordinances of Your will, then You in your abundant mercy rose up for them in the time of their trouble, pled their cause, executed judgment, avenged their wrong, and delivered the strong into the hands of the weak, the many into the hands of few, the impure into the hands of the pure, the wicked into the hands of the righteous, and insolent ones into the hands of those occupied with Your Torah. Both unto Yourself did you make a great and holy name in Your world, and unto Your people did You achieve a great deliverance and redemption. Whereupon your children entered the sanctuary of Your house, cleansed Your temple, purified Your sanctuary, kindled lights in Your holy courts, and appointed these eight days of Ḥanukkah in order to give thanks and praise unto Your holy name.” 183 For obvious reasons, only the one indicator can be visualised, whereas the chewing of the cud can only be assumed. 184 According to Lev 11:3–4 and Deut 14:6–7.

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 Chapter 6 Grace After Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions

Figure 81: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany seems to have had a special predilection for decorated initial words or letters, which he inscribed in diverse ornate ways. At times, he enjoyed playing a verbal and visual pun on the text and inserted an image or a hint that has a bearing on its contents. Such is the case with the image of a horse of the Purim 'al haNissim. The story of Purim is retold in the Book of Esther—the latest text that was canonised and incorporated into the Hebrew Bible. It is also the last of the “Five Scrolls” of the Bible chanted as part of the liturgy on five annual holidays: Song of Songs (on Passover), Ruth (on Shavu'ot), Ecclesiastes (on Sukkot), Lamentations (on the Ninth of Av), and Esther (on Purim). The Book of Esther, set in Persia where the Jews lived as an exiled minority, tells the story of an anti-Jewish plot by Chief Minister Haman and its undoing by a young Jewish woman, Esther, urged by her uncle Mordechai to respond to the royal search for a new queen. Once chosen, she risked her life in appealing to King Ahasuerus to save her people. The story ends in the public humiliation of Haman and his execution with his ten sons.185 One of the surprising facts about the Book of Esther is that, although its subject matter is a reversal of fortune and the deliverance of Jews from persecution, it is the only book in the Bible with not a single mention of God. The text relates the climax of the salvation as follows: Mordechai recorded these things, and sent letters to all the Jews who were in all the provinces of King Ahasuerus, both near and far, enjoining them that they should keep the four-

185 Scholars believe the book to be a late-Second Temple Period creation disguising criticism of the Hellenistic rulers by depicting them as Persians.

The Horse of the Purim Story 

 221

teenth day of the month Adar and also the fifteenth day of the same, year by year, as the days on which the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, days for sending choice portions to one another and gifts to the poor. So the Jews undertook to do as they had begun, and as Mordechai had written to them.186

In compliance with Mordechai’s decree, Purim has become for generations to come a commemoration of the salvation from Haman’s wrath. The festival consists of the public reading of the Book of Esther and the addition of the Purim version of 'al haNissim to the daily 'amidah in the evening, morning, and afternoon prayers, and in the Grace after Meals.187 The text of the Purim version of 'al haNissim refers to three of the protagonists of the story—Mordechai, Esther, and Haman. It totally ignores King Ahasuerus who actually reversed the fate of the Jews, as well as Queen Vashti, whose rebellion paved the opportunity for Esther to take her place as queen. On the other hand, unlike the narrative in the Book of Esther, the addendum explicitly attributes the object of joy on Purim to God: In the days of Mordecai and Esther, in Shushan the capital, when the wicked Haman rose up against them, and sought to destroy, to slay and annihilate all the Jews, both young and old, little children and women, on one day, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which is the month Adar, and to take the spoils of them for a prey, then You in Your abundant mercy brought his counsel to nought, frustrated his design, and returned his ploy upon his own head; and they hanged him and his sons upon the gallows.

One of the climactic episodes in the Book of Esther begins with Haman’s design to humiliate Mordechai the Jew. After Esther’s intervention, Haman’s fortune underwent a drastic shift when he lost his privileged position in the court. On the other hand, King Ahasuerus wished to recognise Mordechai for his role in thwarting a plot on his life by two of his chamberlains. Seeking advice on the appropriate way to show his gratefulness, he consulted Haman as to a suitable way to treat a man whom the king wished to honour. Assuming the honour was coming to him, Haman suggested that such a person should don the king’s royal attire and crown and ride the royal horse, led through the streets of Shushan (ancient Susa).

186 Esther 9:20–23. Tractate Megillah of the Mishnah and the Talmud is dedicated to Purim, including exegesis on the Book of Esther and its public reading in the synagogue. 187 The additional benediction of gratitude for the deliverance is mentioned for the first time in Tosefta Berakhot 3:14 (ed. Moses Samuel Zuckermandel) (Pazevolk: [Trier], [1881–1882]) (Hebrew), albeit only implicitly, by referring to the mandatory insertion relevant to the event (‫)מעין המאורע‬. The earliest rendition of the text of 'al haNissim is by R. Amram Ga’on (d. ca. 875) in his Siddur (ed. Aryeh Leib Frumkin) (Jerusalem: G. Mayer, Sulzberger, 5672/1911–1912), part II, fol. 88a (Hebrew).

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 Chapter 6 Grace after Meals: Daily and Festive Occasions

Alas, to Haman’s horror, the king ordered him to bestow this very honour on his nemesis, Mordechai the Jew, and to proclaim while leading him on the horse: “Thus shall be done to the man whom the king desires to honour!”188 The horse, then, marks the pivotal point of the story, symbolising the reversal of the imminent calamity threatening the Jews into their triumph over their pursuers. Accordingly, the illustration of a horse in the manuscript is not accidental but rather plays a significant role as a visual anchor to the Purim story.

188 Esther 6:11.

Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs A Key for Shabbat The second scene in the Shabbat cycle of the Nuremberg Miscellany appears on fol. 11v,1 next to the lyrics of the anonymous hymn, ‫( צּור ִמ ֶּׁשּלֹו ָא ַכ ְלנּו‬Ẓur miSehlo Akhalnu, lit. “The Rock from whose [food] we have eaten”), in which we give thanks to God for food and drink and petition Him for deliverance and the rebuilding of the Temple (see Figure 82). The hymn belongs at the conclusion of the Shabbat meals as an introduction to the Grace after Meals.2

Figure 82: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The enigmatic bas-de-page illustration shows a man handing over a large key to a woman, who stands facing him. The woman is dressed in her finest for Shabbat, unparalleled in the manuscript. The caption above the initial word at the bottom of the page explicitly contextualises the image: “Hymns for the Eve of Shabbat.” As in other places in the manuscript, the text-image relationship here is not obvious at first and a complex iconographic interpretation is necessary to decode its intricacies. The clue for deciphering the image is not found in the text of the manuscript but rather in an external literary source, which transcends both the principal and the secondary text. 1 After the raising of the cup marginal illustration and the kiddush scenes, both on fol. 9v. 2 A different view is expressed by Joseph Yuzpa Hahn of seventeenth-century Frankfurt, Yosef Ometz (Frankfurt am Main: Johann Kellner, 1723), §607. Hahn stipulates that the piyyuṭ is to be said after the Grace after Meals. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-008

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In Jewish law, the definition of actions forbidden on Shabbat is extremely detailed and precise.3 One of the yardsticks used for such definitions is the halakhic distinction between the private and public domains. Carrying objects of any kind for a distance greater than forty cubits while crossing between the realms constitutes a prohibited action on Shabbat.4 Halakhic authorities have debated for centuries the precise criteria of the objects which one may not carry on Shabbat from one space to another. Among other things, they tackled the issue of women’s attire and trinkets in this context. Already the Mishnah lists items women may don while immersing in the miqveh, the ritual bath,5 and draws parallels between such items and those women may carry on Shabbat.6 Thus, the Mishnah allows a woman to go out of her home wearing ribbons of wool, linen ribbons, or fillets round her head . . . frontlets, garlands . . ., or with a hair-net . . ., or with a golden city,7 or with a necklace, or with ear-rings, or with a finger-ring without a signet, or with a needle which is unpierced . . .

3 Joseph Isaac Lifshitz, in his article “Secret of the Sabbath,” Azure; Ideas for the Jewish Nation 10 (2000): 85–86 (Hebrew), states: “More than anything else, the Sabbath in Jewish tradition is characterized by its comprehensive ban on work (isur melakha). The scope of this prohibition, and the theological explanation behind it, have no parallel in the customs surrounding other holy days, either within Judaism or without. Over the centuries, a colossal halachic structure has been raised around the prohibition of labour, relating it to nearly every facet of human life.” 4 The source for this restriction is implicit in Exod 36:6: “And Moses gave commandment, and they caused it to be proclaimed throughout the camp, saying: Let neither man nor woman make any more work for the offering of the sanctuary . . .,” from which Rashi, ad loc, deduced that the event took place on a Shabbat. Jer 17:21–22, however, is explicit in this matter, saying: “Thus saith the Lord: Take heed for the sake of your souls, and bear no burden on the Shabbat day, nor bring it in by the gates of Jerusalem. Neither carry forth a burden out of your houses on the Shabbat day, neither do ye any work; but hallow ye the Shabbat day, as I commanded your fathers.” 5 Married Jewish women must be ritually pure after menstruation or childbirth before they are permitted to resume marital relations. To this end, they must fully immerse in the miqveh with no barrier between their body and the water. 6 M. Shabbat, chap. 6. 7 In the Greek world, and increasingly during the Hellenistic period, a diadem in the form of a city wall and turrets was part of the iconography of the deity Tyche (luck, equivalent of the Roman goddess Fortuna), the spirit and personification of fortune, chance, providence, and fate. Cities were believed to have their own specific Tyche and, accordingly, one of their attributes was a crown fashioned after the city wall. Symbolically, mural crowns were worn by wealthy matrons, also by Jewish women. In the same period, the Babylonian Talmud (Nedarim 50a and a similar version in Ketubot 62b) relates that Rabbi Akiva commissioned a “Jerusalem of Gold” for his wife, Rachel, when he rose to wealth. See the studies by Shalom M. Paul, “Jerusalem a City of Gold,” Israel Exploration Journal 17 (1967): 259–263; idem, “Jerusalem of Gold: A Song and an Ancient Crown,” Biblical Archaeology Review 3, no. 4 (1977): 33–36 (appeared also in his Divrei

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As part of this deliberation, jewellery drew much attention, specifically questioning whether it could be regarded as clothing or not. One of the arguments in favour of this idea is a story told in the Jerusalem Talmud that Rabban Gamali'el, who lived in Eretz Israel the first half of the first century CE, used to carry a golden key on Shabbat, which, according to one converser, would amount to sacrilege.8 The debate regarding the acceptability of wearing jewellery on Shabbat continued into the Middle Ages. Beit haBeḥira, the thirteenth–fourteenth century commentary on the Talmud by R. Menaḥem b. Shlomo haMe’iri (1249–1315) in Perpignan, Provence, describes a custom of the Jews in France, who used to press a key into a moulded depression in their silver belts, integrating it with the belt and thereby making it into part of their apparel.9 Similar issues arose in Ashkenaz as well. An extensive passage in Maḥzor Vitry, a late eleventh-century halakhic liturgical work by R. Simḥah b. Samuel of Vitry (France, bef. 1105), discusses the jewellery, accessories, and trinkets a woman may don on Shabbat. Vitry mentions the custom of wearing keys on a chain as jewellery. According to his testimony, it was customary for a woman going to the synagogue to take a key with her for fear that her servants might steal goods from her household in her absence. To that end, she locked all the keys of the household chests and cabinets in a miniature coffer serving as a “safe” and fastened the golden or silver key to this small safe-coffer to her clothing as a brooch to pin up the neckline, thus rendering it a permissible part of her Shabbat attire according to Jewish law. The passage in Vitry and the other sources explain the ruling by the halakhist and liturgical poet Eli'ezer b. Nathan of Mainz (a.k.a. Ra’aven, 1090–1170). Expounding on the mishnahic prohibition for a woman to wear “a finger-ring which has no signet” on Shabbat,10 the Talmud records a lengthy discourse on the topic of women’s permissible attire on that holy day.11 R. Meir said on that matter, “. . . A woman may not go out with a key in her hand, and if she does, she Shalom; Collected Studies of Shalom M. Paul on the Bible and the Ancient Near East, 1967–2005 [Leiden: Brill, 2005]); idem, “Jerusalem of Gold – Revisited,” in ‘I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times’; Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, Vols. I–II, ed. Aren M. Maeir and Pierre de Miroschedji (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), II, 787–794. 8 JT Shabbat 86: no. 6 (‫)ה'א‬. Rabban Gamli'el’s habit falls in line with what was customary among affluent Romans, who kept their valuables secured in locked boxes and wore their keys as rings or as other jewellery items for safety and as status symbols. 9 In his commentary on BT Shabbat 62b, s.v. ‫כבר ביארנו‬. 10 M. Shabbat 6:1: ‫ולא בטבעת שאין עליה חותם‬. 11 BT Shabbat 62b.

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must bring a sin-offering.” With reference to this, Ra’aven (1090–1170) expounded on various modes of carrying a key, such as wearing it as a ring with the finger inserted into its bow12 or as an ornament attached to the clothing. On Shabbat, he stipulates explicitly, it is permissible for a woman to adorn herself with an exquisite key made of silver or gold, qualifying as jewellery, but not with a key made of the lesser material, steel.13 Some decades later, R. Baruch b. Isaac (a.k.a. Baruch of Worms, d. 1211) reiterated that this was the custom of the affluent members of society in his surroundings. He explains this custom by a nearly verbatim quotation from the passage in Maḥzor Vitry.14 Similar views were expressed by R. Isaac b. Moses of Vienna (1180–1250), indicating how widespread this custom was in Ashkenaz.15 Other Ashkenazi sages of the Middle Ages describe different modes of carrying the key. One such source is the halakhic anthology Kol Bo of the fourteenth century. Its anonymous author speaks of a key fastened to a silver belt and insists, as did Ra’aven before him, that it should be made of precious metal and not of steel.16 Thus, most rabbis agreed that by wearing the key on a chain as a pendant or hanging it from a belt, or equipped with a pin with which to fasten the neckline, the key counted as jewellery.17 Consequently, a woman could safeguard her belongings while away from home during synagogue services without committing a transgression and men could carry their keys to the synagogues according to the most stringent rulings of Jewish law. Belts had more than one function in medieval and Early Modern Europe. One of their roles was carrying personal items and valuables, suspended from the belt, protected and yet readily available. Money and other valuables were carried in portable purses tied to the belt or hanging from it, often concealed and accessible through a slit in the outer garment. Interior tailored pockets became

12 As stated by Nahmanides, Ḥiddushei haRamban, Shabbat 57a, s.v. ‫ועיקר הפירוש‬, this was the custom of the nobility and royalty. 13 Ra’aven to Shabbat §349, s.v. ‫ובטבעות תנן‬. 14 Baruch of Worms, Sefer haTerumah, Rulings for Shabbat §240 printed in Venice in 1523. On R. Barukh, see Efraim Elimelech Urbach, Ba'ale ha-Tosafot. toldotehem, hiburehem, shitatam (The Tosaphists: Their History, Writings and Methods) (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 5746/1986) (Hebrew), 291. Cf., with very similar wording, Shiboley haLeqet, Issues of Shabbat, §106; and R. Moses b. Jacob of Coucy, Sefer Miẓvot Gadol, §65, s.v. ‫ונושקא של לאוין‬. 15 See Or Zaru'a, Rituals of Shabbat, 84. 16 Kol Bo §31, s.v. ‫כל היוצא‬. 17 See, however, the opposition to these views of “the ancients” expressed by R. Meir of Rothenburg (Maharam), Responsa, part 4 (Prague ed.), §532, s.v. ‫מרדכי‬.

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commonplace only later. Until then, it was customary for men and women, Jews and non-Jews alike, to carry small objects tied to their girdles,18 including keys.19 In addition to simple ones for daily use, the Jews of Ashkenaz used a special type of belt that went beyond its mere practical use. These ornate belts, made of straps of precious fabric or leather and studded with metal adornments, or made entirely out of silver or silver gilt, were part of the traditional prenuptial gifts exchanged by the bride and groom shortly before their wedding. These belts, called sivlonot (perhaps deriving from the Greek word σύμβολον) were usually fitted with a particularly large link for latching various objects.20 This custom prevailed well into the modern period, as attested, for example, in the 1866 painting “The Wedding” by the famous German-Jewish Master, Moritz Daniel Oppenheim (1800–1882) (see Figure 83).21 The painting shows the bride and groom alike wearing such luxurious belts. In another painting by Oppenheim, “The Return of 18 Several examples are included in Jost Amman’s Frauen-Trachtenbuch. See Jost Amman, Im Frauwenzimmer wirt vermeldt von allerley schönen Kleidungen unnd Trachten . . . durch . . . Jost Amman . . . gerissen, sampt einer kurtzen Beschreibung durch den wolgelehrten Thrasibulum Torrentinum Mutislariensem [pseud. for Conrad Lautenbach] (Liebhaber-Bibliothek alter Illustratoren in Facsimile-Reproduction, I. Bändchen) (Munich: Georg Hirth, 1880; reprint of the edition Frankfurt am Main: Sigmund Feyrabend, 1586), 21, 23, 25, and elsewhere. 19 See, for example, the key hanging from Elisabeth’s belt along with a knife in its sheath and a purse, in an altar panel of “The Visitation” by Wolf Huber, painted ca. 1525. The panel is housed in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. R8767 and is reproduced in Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 95. See also the woodblock card depicting a wine waiter (labeled “Kellermeister”) bearing a heavy load of keys dangling from his hip. The card is part of the series of forty-eight playing cards of the “Ambraser Hofämterspiel” made in south-west Germany in about 1450. Each individual card depicts a function or profession that enjoyed an official status at a late medieval princely court, one of which is the wine waiter. The playing cards are housed in Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv. No. KK_5077 to KK_5124. See Hugo Kastner and Gerald Kador Folkvord, Die große Enzyklopädie der Kartenspiele (Baden-Baden: Humboldt, 2005), colour plate 5 (bottom right). 20 See David Davidovitch, “Jewish Marriage Customs: Ketubot, Sivlonot and ‘Marriage Stones,’” Ariel 30 (1972): 70–89; and idem,“Ketubot, Sivlonot and ‘Marriage Stones’,” Israel Yearbook (1974): 109–116. One such example, from Frankfurt am Main dated to the third quarter of the seventeenth century, is reproduced in Joseph Gutmann, The Jewish Life Cycle, Pl. XXXIIIb, and p. 17. Kenneth R. Stow, “Marriages Are Made in Heaven: Marriage and the Individual in the Roman Jewish Ghetto,” Renaissance Quarterly 48 (1995): 455, reports that such engagement gifts were exchanged between the Jewish bridal couple in Italy as well. 21 Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, “The Wedding” (“Die Trauung”), 1866, New York, The Jewish Museum, Gift of the Oscar and Regina Gruss Charitable and Educational Foundation, 1999–87, reproduced in Georg Heuberger and Anton Merk (eds.), Moritz Daniel Oppenheim. Die Entdeckung des jüdischen Selbsbewußtseins in der Kunst (Frankfurt am Main: Wienand / Jüdisches Museum der Stadt Frankfurt am Main, 1999), nos. VI.17 (oil painting, 1861), 286, and VI.18 (grisaille, 1866), 287, respectively.

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Figure 83: Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, “Die Trauung”, 1866 [New York, The Jewish Museum, Gift of the Oscar and Regina Gruss Charitable and Educational Foundation, 1999–87]

the Jewish Volunteer” (1833–1834)22 which clearly takes place in a Shabbat setting,23 the mother is portrayed in festive attire wearing a sumptuous belt with the household keys fastened onto it. A unique fifteenth-century North Italian miniature chest—or cofanetto—is in the collections of the Israel Museum in Jerusalem (see Figure 84).24 Made of silver and adorned with niello, it represents the three major temporal positive miẓvot, 22 The full name of the painting is “The Return of the Volunteer from the Wars of Liberation to His Family Still Living in Accordance with Old Customs” (“Die Heimkehr des Freiwilligen aus den Befreiungskriegen zu den nach alter Sitte lebenden Seinen”). It is housed in New York, The Jewish Museum, Gift of Richard and Beatrice Levy, 1984–61. See Heuberger and Merk, Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, no. VI.2, 112. 23 On the table are the kiddush goblets and morsels of ḥallah, the special braided Shabbat bread. 24 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/20; B51.04.0207, Gift of Mrs. Astore Mayer, Milan. It measures 6.6 x 12.7 x 6 cm. It is reproduced in Cohen Grossman, Jewish Art, 173. See Mordechai Narkiss, “Cofanetto italiano d’argento niellato del sec. XV,” in Scritti in Memoria di Sally Meyer, ed. Daniel Carpi, Attilio Milano, and Alexander Rofé (Milan: Fondazione Sally Mayer Scuola superiore di studi ebraici, 1956), 167–195; idem, “An Italian Niello Casket of the Fifteenth Century,”

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Figure 84: Cofanetto, Italy, 15c [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/20; B51.04.0207, Gift of Astorre Mayer, Milan (Photo by Yoram Lehman)

or obligations, incumbent upon a Jewish woman, described above.25 The chest was probably a wedding gift for an Italian bride. Eight tiny dials and the letters indicating the numerical value from one to twelve,26 set on its lid, denote the count of the assorted possessions stored in the home trunks, the keys of which were secured inside that little chest.27 A sixteenth-century German miniature steel coffer illustrates a similar practice in about the same time and place as the Nuremberg Miscellany.28 Its inscription leaves no doubt that a woman owned it, yet its size is atypical of a jewellery box, as suggested by some scholars.29 Like with the North Italian example, it probably served to protect the household keys on Shabbat. Hence, the ornamental,

Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes XXI (1958): 288–295; and a posthumous translation of the article into Hebrew, Rimmonim 2 (1985): 32–36 (Hebrew). 25 See above, 42–43. 26 In the Hebrew alphabet, each letter carries a numerical value. 27 This type of miniature chest is not to be confused with the “forzieri”, or marriage chests that were presented by the groom or his family to the bride for the storage of housegoods. Such objects are discussed by Brucia Witthoft, “Marriage Rituals and Marriage Chests in Quattrocento Florence,” Artibus et Historiae 3, no. 5 (1982): 43–59. 28 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/53; B86.0235, formerly Stieglitz Collection. It is made of etched steel and gilt copper ornamentation. 29 The designation is suggested by Chaya Benjamin, The Stieglitz Collection: Masterpieces of Jewish Art (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 1987), 250. The photo of the object appears on 251. Its dimensions are 6.6 x 7.3 x 11 cm, more in keeping with the size of courting boxes or Minnekästchen that were in vogue in Germany and France in the late Middle Ages, and rather small to serve as a jewelry box, as suggested by Benjamin.

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relatively large key, as well as the inscription that runs along its four sides, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”30 (see Figure 85) These verses from the book of Proverbs are part of a laudatory hymn idealising the matron of the house, praising her for being practical and capable of dealing with all domestic affairs. The verses of the so-called “Woman of Valour” (Proverbs 31: 10–31) have become part of the home liturgy for the eve of Shabbat.31

Figure 85: Miniature coffer, Germany, 16c [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/53; B86.0235, formerly Stieglitz Collection] (Photo by Avi Ganor)

In all likelihood, the deliberate choice of the two specific verses from Proverbs inscribed on the German coffer, which stress the woman’s household responsibilities and her tending to all its affairs, suggests that the coffer served as a treasury chest for Shabbat, a place to safeguard the household keys. Its ornate key accordingly served both functionally and ornamentally as part of the matron’s Shabbat attire.32 R. Simḥa of Vitry’s above-mentioned text along with the miniature GermanJewish coffer grant the image at the foot of fol. 11v in the Nuremberg Miscellany

30 Prov 31:26–27. 31 In many homes, the song is recited or chanted by the husband before the kiddush, alone or together with his children. The custom originated in kabbalistic circles and was initially interpreted as referring to the Divine Presence (shekhinah) as the mystical mother and wife. Later this kabbalistic devotion evolved into a domestic ceremony in which the family pays homage to the housewife and mother. 32 It is not clear how this particular key was worn as adornment, for lack of a needle to hold it in place on the garment. It may well have been suspended from a belt.

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its religious context and in its Sitz-im-Leben.33 There is, in fact, no literal reference to the man to handing over the key to his wife. In effect, she would typically take it herself in her possession before Shabbat. The fact that the pater familias is handing the key over to his wife goes beyond the practicality of safeguarding the goods on Shabbat. It is also a statement of his trust in her and in her command of the household, reiterating the verses praising the “Woman of Valour”. By doing so, the artist deliberately broadened the context from relating to the Shabbat only to the nature of marital relationship between husband of wife – marriage being a topic of much import in the manuscript.

Kiddush for Shabbat Nearly half of the text of the Nuremberg Miscellany—twenty of the manuscript’s forty-four folios—contains the liturgy of Shabbat. The length of the text notwithstanding, only three scenes and one marginal illustration pertain to this special day: kiddush, or the benediction over wine on the eve of Shabbat, handing over of the keys, and the havdalah ceremony at the close of Shabbat, and a hand holding a goblet. At the foot of fol. 9v, beneath the beginning of the special additions to the Grace after Meals inscribed ‫“( ְל ַׁש ָּבת‬For Shabbat”), a couple is shown facing one another (see Figure 86). On the right, the bearded man is sitting on a high-backed

Figure 86: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 9v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

33 A German beechwood casket, measuring 15 x 19.8 x 13.8 cm, showing Judith and Holofernes, may have served a similar purpose, despite its significantly larger dimensions and although there are no signs that it is of Jewish origin as it does not bear any Hebrew inscriptions. It should be noted, too, that it has a sliding front panel rather than a key or locket and is fitted with five painted drawers. The casket is in London, Victoria and Albert Museum, Inv. No. Circ. 893–1923.

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chair with hand rests and ornately carved finials. He holds up a three-legged fluted beaker in his right hand, in compliance with the ordinance for reciting the kiddush over the wine.34 His wife is sitting opposite him, on the left-hand side of the page.35 The Babylonian Talmud teaches: Ten things were said in connection with the cup used for Grace after Meals . . . it must be taken with both hands and placed in the right hand, it must be raised a handbreadth from the ground, and he who says the benediction must fix his eyes on it. Some add that he must send it round to the members of his household.36

Subsequently, the Talmudic text deliberates on the source for these stipulations: R. Aḥa b. Ḥanina said: What Scriptural reference do we have for this? – “I will lift up the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord.”37 “He fixes his eyes on it”: so that his attention should not wander from it. “He sends it round to the members of his household”: so that his wife may be blessed.38

Sitting in a magnificently carved high-backed chair with her feet resting on a footstool, the woman is an active—though secondary—participant in the ceremony. Her left hand is raised, as if reaching out to receive the cup after her husband has recited the kiddush, following the Talmudic stipulation.39 34 In the seventh chapter of BT Berakhot, ten rules about a cup of benediction are given, and one is that it is held in the right hand. Numerous depictions of the master of the house reciting kiddush have come down to us. For the most part, they accordingly portray him raising the cup in his right hand. An interesting example of the contrary comes from a woodcut in the Prague Haggadah printed by Gershom and Gronem Katz in 1526. P. 3 of the haggadah contains one such instance, although the explanatory text reads: “When making kiddush, and all benedictions using wine, you have to hold it [i.e., the cup] in your right [hand] and not support it with the left.” The deviation from the halakhic ruling in the case of the Prague Haggadah may be caused either by the fact that the woodblock is printed here in secondary use and is, perhaps, of non-Jewish origin, or by the mode of preparing woodcuts (or engravings, for that matter). While the original image is made in one direction, its imprint is, by nature, reversed. 35 Sarit Shalev-Eyni, “Manipulating the Cup of Blessing: Gendered Reading of Ritual Images in European-Hebrew Books,” Studies in Iconography, 39 (2018): 207−234, looks into iconographic variations of settings of couples seated at a table performing a ritual involving wine, concentrating mainly on medieval Passover haggadot. The gender-hierarchy reading of these scenes does apply to the illustration here, which seems to have been a compositional choice of the artist. 36 BT Berakhot 50a–b. The passage is reported by R. Zera in the name of R. Abbahu, although according to others, it was taught in a baraita. 37 Ps 116:13. 38 BT Berakhot 50b. 39 It should be stressed that in the manuscript, the kiddush is recited while the officiator and the participant are seated, although a different custom exists, namely that it is uttered while standing, at least on Friday eves.

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Placed on the floor between the man and the woman is a cooling bath with two pitchers in it.40 It seems to rest on a low stand on an unevenly distributed patch of green, extending above and beneath it. Such coolers were common in the homes of the German social elite in banquets and feasts. They typically contained two pitchers, one for wine and the other for water. A magnificent example of such a cooling bath appears in the presentation book for the inauguration of Kirchensittenbach Castle in 1593, the so-called Willkomm-Buch von Kirchensittenbach in Middle Franconia, not far from Nuremberg (see Figure 87). The cooling bath, made of copper with brass (or perhaps gilt) ornamental feet, is in the foreground. The participants in the celebration, in the presence of the master-builder of Nuremberg, Wolf Jacob Stromer, are all of high standing.41 The cooling bath, the silver and gold cups and goblets, the silver plates and clear Venetian-style glasses, as well as the room, its furniture, furnishings, and the costumes of the participants, are all status symbols of the contemporary bourgeoisie and are reminiscent of the abbreviated scene of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Most religious ceremonies in the Jewish year and the life cycle include the recitation of a benediction over wine or grape juice and drinking it.42 The supremacy of the grape over all other fruits or drinks is founded on the verse and “wine to

40 See, for example, “2-of-Bells” from a series of playing cards designed by Hans Leonhard Schäufelein and printed in Nuremberg by Wolfgang Rösch around 1535. The series is kept in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. GNM Sp. 7074–7120. For the image, see Hoffmann, Spiekarten, Cat. No. 55d, 95, and description on 182–184. 41 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. HS 143516. See Gerhard Seibold, “400 Jahre Nürnberger Stiftungsgeschichte am Beispiel der Jobst Friedrich von Tetzel’schen und der Johann Carl von Schlüsselfelder’schen Stiftung,” Mitteilungen des Vereins für Geschichte der Stadt Nürnberg 95 (2008): 177–178. See also Klaus Pechstein, ed. Deutsche Goldschmiedekunst vom 15. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert aus dem Germanischen Nationalmuseum. Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum; Berlin: Willmuth Arenhövel, 1987, figs. 23, 27. For a survey of goldsmithery in Nuremberg, see Eduard Mutschelknauss, Die Entwicklung des Nürnberger Goldschmiedehandwerks von seine ersten Anfängen bis zur Einführung der Gewerbefreiheit im Jahre 1869. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des deutschen Handwerks (Wirtschafts- und Verwaltungsstudien CVII), 168–173: “Die Juden und das Goldschmiedegewerbe.” Leipzig: Buchdruckerei K. Triltsch, 1929. 42 BT Pesahim 105b–106a. The havdalah ceremony, however, could be performed over beer in countries where it is the common beverage, as prescribed in BT Pesahim 107a. An interesting comparison between the significance of the benedictions over wine and bread in the Kiddush and in Christian rites is offered by Clemens Leonhard, “Blessings over Wine and Bread in Judaism and Christian Eucharistic Prayers: Two Independent Traditions,” in Jewish and Christian Liturgy and Worship; New Insights into Its History and Interaction, ed. Albert Gerhards & Clemens Leonhard (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 309−326.

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 Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs

Figure 87: Willkomm-Buch von Kirchensittenbach, Middle Franconia, Germany, 1593 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HS 143516]

gladden the heart of man . . .”43 and the biblical expression “wine, which cheers God and man.”44 Pondering this phrase, the Talmud expounds R. Samuel b. Naḥmani said in the name of R. Jonathan: Whence do we know that one should sing a song of praise only over wine? Because it says, “But the vine said to them, ‘shall I leave my wine which cheers gods and men, and go to sway over the trees? If it cheers man, how does it cheer God?’ From this we learn that a song of praise is sung only over wine.”45

Linking the miẓvah to drink wine to Shabbat, the Talmud states: “Remember Shabbat day and sanctify it. ‘Remember’ the day over wine.”46 The most frequent 43 Ps 104:15. 44 Judg 9:13. 45 BT Berakhot 35a. 46 BT Pesahim 106a.

Kiddush for Shabbat 

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application of this idea is in the kiddush on the eve of Shabbat and on the Shabbat day, and during the havdalah that indicates the transition back to regular weekdays. These occasions apply also to festivals, which have a slightly modified kiddush and havdalah, expressing the unique nature of each festival. The kiddush on Shabbat and festivals marks the distinction of this ritual from ordinary consumption of wine. Its special significance comes with the recital of the words of the kiddush, which literally means “sanctification” or “separation.” Jewish tradition ascribes the origin of the kiddush to the Men of the Great Assembly who were active as transmitters of the Law in the period from the last of the biblical prophets during the Second Temple period to the early Hellenistic era, vaguely between the sixth and fourth centuries BCE.47 The Talmud distinguishes between various types of wine according to the degree of its potency. Extrapolating from Isaiah 1:22, “your wine mixed with water . . .,” it has become customary to mix regular or “living wine” (‫( )יַ יִ ן ַחי‬as opposed to other forms of grape-extracted wines) with water, thereby converting it into ‫יַ יִ ן ָמזּוג‬, or diluted wine.48 Rashi specified the proportions of watereddown wine in the eleventh century, stating that this should be two thirds water and one third wine.49 His grandson, the Tosafist Rashbam (R. Samuel b. Meir, Troyes, ca. 1085–ca. 1158), on the other hand, stipulated that the mixture should contain only one fourth wine and the rest water.50 In medieval and Early Modern Ashkenaz, there was no prescribed ratio, and some rabbis even left it to individual discretion. One such opinion comes, for example, from Maharil, who specified that “one dilutes it in water so that it is as sweet as one is accustomed to [drinking it], whether [the wine is] live or diluted.”51 The differently shaped pitchers in the Nuremberg Miscellany, therefore, represent the ancient custom to dilute the “very old wine” from earlier vintages (‫נֹוׁשן‬ ָ ‫ )יָ ָׁשן‬with water in order to reduce its potency. In fact, the teaching was that kiddush might not be uttered over wine that has not been watered down at all. Regarding the wines that are permissible for kiddush, the rabbis agree that when 47 BT Berakhot 33a. 48 Numbers Rabbah 10, 8; as well as Sifre Numbers 23. It should be noted, though, that the verse in Isaiah carries an explicit negative tone, in which the prophet addresses the sins of the People of Israel or “Judah and Jerusalem.” The rabbis disregarded the context of the entire verse and emphasised the halakhic lesson that could be surmised from this short excerpt. 49 Rashi to BT Shabbat 77a, s.v. ‫חדא–דחמרא‬. See also BT Shabbat 76b, s.v. ‫כדי מזיגת‬. 50 Rashbam, commentary on BT Pesahim 108b, s.v. ‫ואחד מזוג‬. R. Mordechai ben Hillel haAshkenazi (a.k.a. Mordechai, ca. 1250–1298), in Germany, expressed a different notion due to the fact that the wine in his days was not as strong as the one that was available in the days of the Mishnah, and it is therefore recommended to drink it as is, “live.” See his commentary on BT Pesahim §611. 51 Maharil, Sefer Maharil, Order of the Haggadah, 9, s.v. ‫כל‬.

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mixed with water “. . . surely it is improved; R. Jose b. Ḥanina said52: The Sages agree with R. Ele'azar that the benediction may not be recited over the cup of [wine for the] Grace after Meals until water has been poured into it.”53 The pitcher on the left in the cooling bath resembles contemporary objects, many of which were made of pewter.54 An elegant example of such an object is depicted in an engraving showing a knight with bread and wine by Albrecht Altdorfer (Regensburg, ca. 1480–1538).55 The other pitcher, on the right in the cooling bath, has a bellied body and a moulded spout-bridge, known in German as Steg, which gave this form of a flagon the name Stegkanne or Stegstitze.56 Such jugs, fitted with a hinged lid and a smaller hinged spout-cover, graced middle-class dining tables.57 Variations used by the upper echelon were similarly fashioned, distinguished from the simple types by the costly material used to make them and their elaborate embellishments. Artisans decorated them with richly embossed and engraved silver mounts, creating sumptuously ornamented vessels for the table.58 Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh printed in 1593 contains illustrations of three jugs or flagons similar to those of the Nuremberg Miscellany hanging on the wall in the back, while a different form is shown in another woodcut (see Figure 88).59

52 BT Berakhot 50b. 53 BT Bava Batra 73b. The recommended ratio of dilution is 3:1. 54 Pewter was used for the production of various household objects and dishes, including pitchers of all sorts, from the second half of the thirteenth century on. Often, however, wine vessels of this kind were made of silver, glazed stoneware, or other materials. 55 New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, no. 30.53.12 (Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1930), https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/429720 (accessed March 13, 2010). 56 The special rod, or Steg, was made to strengthen the thin spout and protect it from breaking. 57 For examples, see Jan Beekhuizen and Berend Dubbe, eds., Van tin gegoten, uit tin genoten. Museum Bojmans van Beuningen. Tentoonstelling ter Gelegnheid van het 10-jarig Jubileum van de Nederlandse Tinvereniging (Maastricht: Thieeme Yonder Media, 2004), 407, no. 368, produced probably in Innsbruck in the last quarter of the sixteenth century or the first quarter of the seventeenth century. It belongs to the Collection of Jan Beekhuizen Kunst en Antiek, Amsterdam. A slightly later object is shown on 313, no. 273, dated to the first quarter of the seventeenth century. The flagon was made in Ulm by Georg Wilhelm Keller. Later examples, from the eighteenth century, are reproduced on 416–417, nos. 374–376. See also a specimen from the seventeenth century, in the Museum des Kunsthandwerks in Leipzig, reproduced in Dieter Nadolski, Altes Gebrauchszinn. Aussehen und Funktion über sechs Jahrhunderte (Gütersloh: Prosma, 1983), no. 126. 58 Such a wine pitcher with an earthenware body and richly decorated silver mount, made in Westerwald in 1591 by Jan Emens Mennicken, is housed in London, Victoria and Albert Museum, no. 805–1868. 59 Fol. 18r.

Kiddush for Shabbat 

 237

Figure 88: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 18r (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

Two differently shaped wine cups feature on fol. 9v of the Nuremberg Miscellany. The beaker held by the man reciting kiddush at the bottom of the page has a fluted body resting on small orbs or bells. Such flat-based and wide-mouthed drinking tumblers without a handle often have decorations on their body, or, as in this case, an engraved rim that is usually gilt, and and some have lids to cover the liquid.60 Such beakers were commonplace around the middle of the sixteenth century, often resting on globular bells (similar to jingle bells), hence their designation as Schellenbecher or “bell-beakers.”61 One such example, of a specific type called Schuppenbecher due to its scale decoration, is part of the collection of the

60 Such a beaker is depicted in the Hausbuch der Nürnberger Zwölfbrüderstiftung, Nuremberg, Stadtbibliothek Nürnberg, Amb. 279.2°, fol. 20v (Landauer I). 61 As the ones shown in Tebbe-Schürer, Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst, Bd. I, nos. 581–582, 935, dated to 1544–1547, crafted by Peter Leitemair, and the one from 1549–1551, by Caspar I.

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Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg. It was made in Nuremberg by the goldsmith master Stefan Schirlinger around 1540–1549 (see Figure 89).62

Figure 89: Stefan Schirlinger, Schellenbecher, Nuremberg, ca. 1541–1549 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HG 7713]

At the top of the page, an outstretched hand holds an elegant goblet. Painted in ochre, the artist’s intention was apparently to insinuate gold or gilt silver (see Figure 90). This specific type of goblet, standing on a stem that rests on a base, was one of the most magnificent forms used by royalty, nobility, and aristocracy in Central Europe as of the fifteenth century. Its main features, namely the globular bulges, gave it the name Buckelpokal or bulged goblet, typically decorated with bulbous protrusions on its body, often also on its base. Many such vessels were formed as two superimposed inverted goblets and were therefore known as Doppelpokal or Doppelscheuer.

62 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. HG 7713, shown in Pechstein, Deutsche Goldschmiedekunst, 100–101. The partly gilt object is 12.9 cm tall. See also Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, Cat. No. 13, 217, as well as Tebbe and Schürer, Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst, Bd. II, 186, fig. 163.

Kiddush for Shabbat 

 239

Figure 90: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 9v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The Buckelpokal, actually simulating earlier forms and decorations, was in vogue in the Renaissance and Baroque periods and its manufacture centred mainly in Nuremberg.63 It was part of a New-Gothic revival, expressed mostly in architecture and architectural sculpture, but also present in other forms of art, especially in silver and goldsmithery. A famous drawing from around 1507 by the Nuremberg artist Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), included in his Dresdner Skizzenbuch, shows a group of six covered goblets, five of which have decorations in the shape of bulges on their bodies and covers (see Figure 91).64 To the right of the illustration the artist expressed his 63 A thorough study on this type of vessel has been carried out by Helga Müller, “Der spätgotische Buckelpokal. Ursprung u. Entwicklung,” PhD diss., (Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Munich, 1983). See also O. von Falke, “Die Neugotik im deutschen Kunstgewerbe der Spätrenaissance,” Jahrbuch der Preußischen Kunstsammlungen 40 (1919): 75–92, especially 76–87. 64 The pen drawing, part of the Dresdner Skizzenbuch, is presently kept in Dresden, Die Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staats–und Universitätsbibliothek, Mscr. Dresd. R 147 f, fol. 193r. The illustration is reproduced in Robert Bruck, ed., Das Skizzenbuch von Albrecht Dürer in der Königl. Öffentl. Bibliothek zu Dresden (Strassburg: J. H. Ed. Heitz (Heitz and Mündel), 1905), 156. (fol. 193r). See also Thomas Haffner, “Die Dresdner Dürerhandschrift: ein bedeutendes Dokument der Kunst-, Wis-

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Figure 91: Albrecht Dürer, Dresdner Skizzenbuch, ca. 1507, fol. 193r, panel 156 [Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Mscr. Dresd. R 147 f]

intention, namely “morgen will ich ir mer machen” (tomorrow I shall make more [of these]). It attests to the high demand for such objects during that period and to the variety of their forms. Those depicted by Dürer show the influence of Italian motifs mingled with the German late Gothic style.65 While the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was by no means a master of proportions, the dimensions of the goblet depicted on fol. 9v are nonetheless meant to be impressive. It greatly exceeds the halakhic minimum capacity of

senschafts- und Sammlungsgeschichte,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Technischen Universität Dresden 55 (2006): nos. 1–2, 157; 151–158, especially 154–158. The image is reproduced on 157, pl. 8. 65 See a similar goblet, made of partly gilt silver, the work of an unknown Nuremberg artist from around 1535, in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. HG 10399, in Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, Cat. 12, 216–217. Like the one in the Nuremberg Miscellany, this tall goblet, measuring an imposing 33.4 cm in height, comprises two superimposed parts of a similar shape and decoration, in which the upper goblet is of a smaller diameter and is slightly squatter. For further comparisons, see op. cit., nos. 286–294, 336–339, and others. See also the ten of the altogether twenty-three copies of examples of covered goblets by the Regensburg artist Hieronymus Hopfer, designed after a model by Albrecht Altdorfer after 1525, in Pechstein, Deutsche Goldschmiedekunst, fig. 74, 60.

Kiddush for Shabbat 

 241

a kiddush cup.66 Rather, it complies with the typically imposing size of similar objects, intended not only for drinking, but also as objets d’art and display items, the purpose of which was to amaze the spectator and proclaim their owner’s status of affluence.67 They also often served as commemorative cups for guild gatherings and similar celebratory events.68 The goblet in the Nuremberg Miscellany is another expression of wealth, vividly demonstrated in the manuscript’s illustrations. It resembles a double-goblet, made in Nuremberg in 1519, which was a wedding gift by Dr. Christoph Scheurl to his bride Katharina Futterer. This superb goblet, made by the master goldsmith Wenzel Jamnitzer in 1519 and kept in the Badisches Landesmuseum in Karlsruhe,69 has a total height of 48.4 cm (see Figure 92). The most sumptuous of these vessels were fashioned from costly materials, boasting impressive dimensions.70

66 The kiddush cup must contain at least revi'it (lit. “quarter,” “fourth”), a Talmudic unit of liquid measure that equals one fourth of a log (which equals 478 gr.), amounting to approximately 3.5 fluid ounces. The stipulation follows Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 271:13. 67 The Buckelpokal is discussed, along with a study of other objects, within the framework of the research on a still-life by the Dutch master Abraham Hendricks van Beyeren (1620/1621–1690), “Still Life with a Silver Wine Jar and a Reflected Portrait of the Artist” in the Cleveland Museum of Art, no. CMA 60/80. The study was carried out by Scott A. Sullivan, “A Banquet-Piece with Vanitas Implications,” The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 61, no. 8 (1974): 271–282. 68 See Ralf Schürer, “Vom alten Ruhm der Goldschmiedearbeit. Nürnberger Silber in Europa,” in Quasi Centrum Europae: Europa kauft in Nürnberg, 1400–1800 (Ausstellungskatalog Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nürnberg, 20. Juni–6. Oktober 2002), ed. Hermann Maué (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2002), 197–181. The author refers to silver objects produced in Nuremberg, mainly goblets, which were used not only by the nobility but served also as symbols of gratitude and honour, and were given as tokens of appreciation in faraway places such as Norfolk in England. 69 Karlsruhe, Badishes Landesmuseum, reproduced in Harry Kühnel, ed., Altag im Spätmittelalter (Graz: Edition Kaleidoskop, 1986), 295, fig. 359, and description on 383. The double-goblet, made of silver and partly gilt is published in the museum’s online catalogue, http://193.197.29.16/ blm-web/showBigPicture.do?action=changeview&changeto=detail&objectid=2091&picbeanid=6 (accessed February 19, 2020). See also Jahrbuch der staatlichen Kunstsammlungen in BadenWürttemberg 2 (1965): 305, fig. 181. I owe this reference to Dr. Jutta Dresch, director of Documentation and Library, Art and Cultural History in the Badisches Landesmuseum. Another close parallel is a double-goblet, also made by Wenzel Jamnitzer, reproduced in Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, no. 287. 70 The cup from the Cleveland Museum of Art (CMA 62.286), for example, measures 49.5 cm. It was made in Germany in the second half of the sixteenth century. See Sullivan, “Banquet-Piece,” 275 and n. 20 on 282. Judging by the sizes of cups produced by Wenzel Jamnitzer and his circle of co-professionals, they range from 45 cm (no. 125, 279), to 62 cm (no. 137, 283–284). See Bott, Wenzel Jamnitzer, no. 125, 279, and no. 137, 283–284, respectively.

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 Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs

Figure 92: Wenzel Jamnitzer, Double-goblet, Nuremberg, 1519 [Karlsruhe, Badishes Landesmuseum, Inv. No. 64/51]

The context of the illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany is the recitation of the benediction over the wine during the kiddush. The exact occasion, however, is not clear. The text inscribed immediately above it is the special insertion added to the Grace after Meals on Shabbat, Reẓe veHaḥaliẓenu (‫יצנּו‬ ֵ ‫)ר ֵצה וְ ַה ֲח ִל‬. ְ On the other hand, the ensuing page contains another special prayer, Ya'aleh veYavo’, recited in the 'amidah and the Grace after Meals only on festivals and on the First of the Month (Rosh Ḥodesh).71 One of the phrases of Ya'aleh veYavo’ is modified according to the particular occasion on which it is pronounced. This custom, of rabbinic

71 These occasions include Rosh Ḥodesh, Passover, Shavu'ot, Sukkot, the Eighth [day] of Assembly (Shmini 'Aẓeret) (the day after the seventh day of Sukkot), and Rosh haShanah, the New Year. The duration of the biblically ordained Jewish festivals varies according to location: in Eretz Israel they are generally celebrated for one day only, while in the Diaspora it has been the custom to add a second day of observance to the festival. The second day, called Yom Ṭov Sheni Shel Galuyot (Heb. second festival day of the Diaspora), was instituted by the Sanhedrin in the Second Temple period for calendric reasons, before the Jewish calendar was calculated and could hence be fixed. The two exceptions are Rosh haShanah which lasts two days throughout the Jewish world and Yom Kippur, which is never doubled because of the fast. For more on the Jewish calendar, see M. Rosh Hashana 2:2–4; BT Rosh Hashanah 22b; and Rashi ad loc. On the liturgy for the New Moon, see Ismar Elbogen, Jewish Liturgy. A Comprehensive History, trans. Raymond P. Scheindlin (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1993), 94–106.

Kiddush for Shabbat 

 243

origin dating back to the first centuries of the Common Era, eventually found its way to all parts of the Jewish Diaspora, including Ashkenaz.72 The special additions to the Grace after Meals for the festivals and Rosh Ḥodesh are of different contents and emphases. Their core is a plea to God to remember His people, asking for “deliverance, goodness, grace, kindness, mercy, life, and peace.” At this point, specific reference is made to the respective event in the Jewish calendar during which it is recited. Already the Babylonian Talmud mentions the special additions to the Grace after Meals recited on Shabbat, celebrating the joys of the day, as follows73: May it be agreeable to you, Lord our God, and strengthen us through Your commandments, [chiefly] through the commandment of the seventh day, this great and holy Shabbat. For this is indeed a great and holy day for You; to rest and repose, with loving devotion for the command of Your will. So may it please You to grant us rest, Lord our God, with no trouble, or unhappiness, or distress on our day of rest. And show us, Lord our God, the consolation of Zion, Your city, and the building up of Jerusalem, Your holy city, for you are the Master of redemption and the Master of consolation.

This stipulation, accepted in most parts of the Jewish world,74 eventually received also the endorsement of medieval Ashkenazi authorities such as Rashi and the Tosafists.75 The type of goblet depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany, with the additional inverted goblet that also serves as a cover at its top, is of special significance according to Jewish ritual law. The Babylonian Talmud includes an interesting discourse on the nature and quality of the wine that is permissible for the performance of kiddush, “R. Zuṭra’ b. Ṭobiah said in the name of Rav: The kiddush of the day must be proclaimed on such wine only as is fit to be offered as a libation upon the altar [i.e., at the Temple].”76 In other words, not every wine may be used for libation, and hence for kiddush as well. The rabbis listed a few kinds of wine forbidden for that purpose, such as pungent wine, exposed wine, wine made of lees, or wine with an offensive smell. The reason given for the prohibition of

72 See, for example, Simḥah b. Samuel of Vitry, Maḥzor Vitry §93, ed. Arye Goldshmidt (Jerusalem: Mekhon Otsar ha Poskim, 5764 [2003–2004]) (Hebrew), vol. 1. 115−116 for the text and §231, 174 for the interpretation. Maḥzor Vitry is a compendium of prayers and benedictions, as well as rules concerning religious practices and stipulations by earlier and contemporary rabbinic authorities. See also Siddur Rashi §217, and others. 73 BT Pesahim 105a, as well as JT Berakhot 48b. See also Leviticus Rabbah §34. 74 See, for example, Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Sefer Ahavah, Rulings of Benedictions, chap. 2, §5. 75 Rashi to BT Pesahim 105a; and Tosafot, Berakhot, 49a, s.v. ‫ברוך שנתן‬. 76 BT Bava Batra 97a.

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exposed wine in particular, namely wine that remained uncovered for some time, is lest a poisonous snake deposit its venom in it. In addition to practical reasons for covering the wine, such as keeping it free of flies and dust, some rabbis justified this religious injunction differently. R. Abraham b. Nathan haYarḥi from Lunel in Provence (ca. 1155–1215), probably uncomfortable with the peculiar Talmudic explanation for the prohibition of exposed wine, claims that it tends to develop an unpleasant odour.77 R. Joseph Qaro, of Spanish origin, takes a different approach in his magnum opus, the Shulḥan 'Arukh, completed in 1563 and published in Venice two years later. Qaro explains that it is “disrespectful” to leave the wine uncovered,78 an opinion later accepted also in Ashkenaz and reiterated, among others, by the prominent Talmudist R. Abraham Abele Gombiner (ca. 1635–1682) in his book Magen Avraham— commentary on the Oraḥ Ḥayyim section of the Shulḥan 'Arukh.79 The artist placed the image of a similar goblet in the outer margin of fol. 39v as an illustration for the kiddush for Rosh haShanah and the festivals. In this case, too, a hand is holding the goblet, which is likewise of impressive dimensions and an imposing form. It rests on globular feet with a pennant serving as a finial at its top.80 Referring to one of the traditional foods for Shabbat, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany incorporated a fish as the left vertical line of the ‫—ה‬the last letter of the initial word ‫“( ְר ֵצה‬May it be Your will”).81

Swans for the Shabbat Meal The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany had a special fondness for elaborate initial words, such as in the ornate lettering of the initial word ‫מה‬, ָ (“How”) for the beginning of the hymn ‫ּומה נָ ַע ְמת‬ ַ ‫( ַמה יָ ִפית‬Mah Yafit uMah Na'amt) on fol. 14v (see Figure 93).82 This piyyuṭ is an allegorical love song, inspired by the Song of Songs 7:7. It was written probably in the thirteenth century by Mordechai b. Isaac,

77 Sefer haManhig, Rulings for Passover. Yarḥi states that in most of France and Spain it is customary to perform kiddush on such wine. 78 Oraḥ Ḥayyim 272:1. 79 Magen Avraham, 1. 80 The history of the ceremonial objects used on Shabbat is described by Franz Landsberger. “The Origin of the Ritual Implements for the Sabbath.” Hebrew Union College Annual 27 (1956): 387–415. 81 On the importance of fish in the festive Shabbat meal, see the chapter on the Ḥanukkah meal. 82 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 3 (1930), no. 392, 87.

Swans for the Shabbat Meal 

 245

Figure 93: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 14v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

whose name is acrosticated in its strophes. The custom of Ashkenazi Jews is to sing it on the eve of Shabbat. The scribe of the Miscellany quoted the first strophe of the piyyuṭ, which borrows from the Song of Songs, with a slight variation. Moreover, the version he inscribed in the manuscript deviates from the text of the piyyuṭ as well, omitting— intentionally or accidentally—the words “O love” in the original strophe “How fair and how pleasant are you, O love, for delights.” The strophe describes the delicacies prepared for the festive meals of Shabbat, among which the poet mentions “meat and fish,” which are prepared in advance for the holy day. The hymn immediately preceding it, Mah Yedidut Menuḥatekh (lit. “How Beloved is Your Rest”),83 provides a clue for understanding the specific motifs woven into the initial letters of Mah Yafit (see Figure 94). It mentions ritual

83 Ibid., no. 373, 86.

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 Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs

Figure 94: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 14v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

obligations and prohibitions of the day, including the special Shabbat delicacies, such as “swans, quail, and fish.” The refrain of Mah Yedidut Menuḥatekh includes the word ‫ּת ֲענּוגִ ים‬, ַ meaning pleasures or enjoyments. This word appears also in the first stanza of Mah Yafit, creating another link between the two piyyuṭim. The lexical and thematic similarities focusing on the enjoyment of gourmet foodstuffs prepared for Shabbat must have prompted the inclusion in the illustration of the hand holding fast onto the neck of a bird—possibly a swan or another fatted bird that is about to be slaughtered for the day’s festive meal, doubled in the small swan’s head in the upper margin. The illustration here, therefore, draws on the artist’s association and, in a way, borrows its inspiration from a text preceding the one whose initial letters it is set to adorn.

Hand of Dispute A lavishly decorated initial word opens the tenth–eleventh century piyyuṭ Barukh Adonai Yom Yom (lit. “Blessed be the Lord every day”) by Simeon b. Isaac b. Avun of Mainz, which is one of the hymns for the Shabbat meal (see Figure 95).84 It enlists God’s repeated salvation of Israel from the Exodus through their return from the Babylonian exile and the Persian, Greek, and Edomite oppressions.85

84 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 2 (1929), no. 1409, 61. 85 It is founded on JT Ta'anit 1:1 and BT Megillah 29a.

Hand of Dispute 

 247

Figure 95: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Stanzas six through eight of the piyyuṭ focus specifically on Edom. This section begins with Zion lamenting its fall into the hands of Edom due to the inequities of the Jerusalemites. In Jewish lore, Edom, named after the ancient Edumea, symbolises the Roman Empire and was later associated with Christianity. The poet implores for utopian deliverance from the longest diasporic oppression—the one imposed by the Christians. The words ‫נִ ְסגַ ְר ִּתי ֶל ֱאדֹום ְּביַ ד ֵר ַעי ְמ ָדנַ י‬, namely “I have been exiled to Edom through of my comrades of dispute” resonate the words of the Talmud concerning the reason for the destruction of the Second Temple, “Why was the Second Sanctuary destroyed, seeing that in its time people were occupying themselves with [the study of the] Torah, [observance of its] precepts, and the practice of charity? Because therein prevailed hatred.”86 Referring to the literal meaning of the word ‫( ְּביָ ד‬lit. “by/in the hand”) in the first line of the sixth stanza, the artist chose to depict a hand “clamping,” as if

86 BT Yoma 9b. See also the story told in BT Gittin 55b as an exemplum for such hatred without cause.

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 Chapter 7 Shabbat: Its Rites and Customs

choking the vertical line of the letter ‫ ר‬in the initial word ‫“( ָּברּוְך‬blessed”), symbolically signifying the harassment of the Christians against the Jews (see Figure 96).

Figure 96: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Fish for Shabbat Another initial word decorated with a motif that alludes to the text that follows it in the Nuremberg Miscellany is the word ‫( ִאיׁש‬Heb. “man”). It is the opening of an eleventh–early twelfth century piyyuṭ titled Ish Ḥasid Hayah (Heb. ‫איׁש ָח ִסיד ָהיָ ה‬, ִ lit. “There Was a Righteous Man”) by Yishai b. Mordechai, one of Rashi’s disciples (see Figure 97). The name of the author is rendered in an acrostic of the first letters of its strophes.

Figure 97: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 26v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Fish for Shabbat 

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The inspiration for the piyyuṭ comes from an anonymous early midrash recorded by R. Nissim b. Jacob (ca. 990–1062), head of the yeshivah in Kairouan (in presentday Tunisia), in his collection of tales, Sefer Ma'asiyyot haḤakhamim (lit. “Book of Tales of the Sages”).87 One of the tales relates the story of a poor Jew who, unable to sustain his family, receives help from Elijah the Prophet.88 While unrelated to Shabbat, the hymn was nonetheless added to the liturgy of the close of Shabbat soon after its composition, as attested by its inclusion already in the eleventh-century Maḥzor Vitry.89 The timing of its recitation is often before the havdalah ritual, which marks the distinction between the departing Shabbat and the beginning of the workweek.90 Another Talmudic tale may have provided the inspiration for this piyyuṭ— the story of Joseph-Who-Honours-the-Shabbat.91 The two tales indeed share some common features. Joseph, like the protagonist of Ish Ḥasid Hayah, was pious. He worked all week to gather enough money to honour Shabbat by procuring a fish. His rich and tight-fisted neighbour, fearing that Joseph might one day own all his assets, as predicted by his astrologers, sold all his goods and bought a precious diamond, which he set in gold to decorate his hat. As he was crossing the bridge one day, a strong wind blew his hat off his head and cast it into the water. The stone was gulped by a fish in the river. Eventually, a fisherman caught the fish that swallowed the precious stone and sent it to the market. On Friday afternoon, when prices go down, Joseph bought the fish and was delighted that he could properly honour Shabbat. Lo and behold, through intervention of Elijah the Prophet, in the belly of the fish he found the miser’s jewel, and was finally relieved of his poverty. Both this tale and the story in the piyyuṭ Ish Ḥasid Hayah end with the protagonist’s meeting with Elijah, who provides him with a fish and resolves his existential problem. The story of Joseph-Who-Honours-the-Shabbat similarly found its way to the liturgy of Shabbat Eve through a piyyuṭ based on it—Yom Shabbat Qodesh Hu (‫יֹום ַׁש ַּבת ק ֶֹדׁש הּוא‬, “the Shabbat is a sacred day”). In the Nuremberg Miscellany, it is appropriately included among the piyyuṭim for the beginning of Shabbat. The literary similarity between the two tales in genre and detail could well have inspired the artist to depict the most typical food for Shabbat in the initial word

87 Editio princeps Ferrara, 1557. See Jellinek, Bet haMidrash, part 5, no. 181. For the English translation see Nissim b. Yaaqov of Qayruan, An Elegant Composition Concerning Relief after Adversity, ed. and trans. William M. Brinner (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1977).‬‬ 88 No. 19, 1. 89 Maḥzor Vitry §203, ed. Shimon Halevi Ish Horowitz (Jerusalem: Alef, 1963) (Hebrew), 184–185. 90 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, no. 3138, 147. 91 BT Shabbat 119a.

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on fol. 26v, despite the fact that there is no direct reference to it in the text itself. He is thereby offering another unique example of text-image relationship, which depends entirely on memory and associative thought. Indeed, the presence of a fish image as the bottom part of the letter ‫ ש‬may be a simple reference to the festive Shabbat meals, which traditionally include the consumption of fish. The reason for the explicit insistence fish on the Shabbat table is intriguing. A deliberation in the Talmud may be one source for this custom: R. Judah said in Rav’s name: He who delights in Shabbat is granted his heart’s desires, for it is said, delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart . . . Wherewith does one show his delight therein? R. Judah son of R. Samuel b. Shilath said in Rav’s name: With a dish of beets, large fish, and heads of garlic. R. Ḥiyya b. Ashi said in Rav’s name: Even a trifle, if it is prepared in honour of Shabbat, is delight. What is it [the trifle]? Said R. Papa: A pie of fish-hash.92

Another explanation for the image builds on the connection between the symbolism embedded in the custom of eating fish on Shabbat and the Feast of the Righteous in the World to Come, which is believed to include the leviathan. Jewish tradition, recorded in the Talmud, maintains that the leviathan was created on the fifth day of Creation for that special banquet of the righteous.93 Since Shabbat is “a miniature World to Come,” we traditionally commemorate it by consuming a miniature leviathan—a fish.

Havdalah The havdalah (Heb. for “distinction,” “separation”) ceremony takes place at the conclusion of Shabbat and festivals.94 It marks the distinction between the sacred day of rest and festivity and the ordinary weekday. Until the havdalah has been performed, one may not resume labour. The proper time for the havdalah is no earlier than nightfall, when three stars are visible in the sky. According to the Talmud, the ritual originated with the early Sages: “The Men of the Great Assembly instituted benedictions and prayers, sanctifications and havdalot (plur. of havdalah) for Israel.” In the days of

92 BT Shabbat 118:b. 93 BT Bava Batra 75a. See also Rashi ad loc. 94 The havdalah marks distinctions made between other times of varying degrees of holiness as well, such as between a festival and a workday, or Shabbat and a festival, each entailing a somewhat different ritual. It is not performed after all the festivals.

Havdalah 

 251

the Mishnah, however, it had not reached its final form. The Tana’im (mishnahic sages) deliberated whether it should be part of the communal 'amidah during the evening prayer ('arvit) at the synagogue, or a private ritual celebrated at home. According to one tradition, “when they became more affluent, they instituted that it should be said over the cup of wine; when they became poor again, they inserted it again into the [public] prayer, because they could no longer afford the wine [privately].”95 In the High Middle Ages, the havdalah was introduced as the recital of benedictions over a cup of wine, performed at home and at the synagogue alike. By reciting it publicly on behalf of the entire congregation, those who had no wine at home became participants in the performance of the miẓvah as well. It stands to reason, though, that “This prayer originated at the meal, as shown especially by the [role of the sweet-smelling] spices,” as maintained by Ismar Elbogen, and that “its transfer to the synagogue can be explained by the cessation of the ancient table customs and the lack of wine in certain regions of Babylonia.”96 The text of the havdalah liturgy developed over a long stretch of time. It is therefore not uniform, and some details vary by community. In the Ashkenazi version, the ceremony begins with a number of preliminary verses as “a good omen.”97 The words “Behold, God is my salvation,”98 which appear above the image on fol. 29r of the Nuremberg Miscellany, are recited first, followed by the three benedictions that constitute the heart of the ceremony (see Figure 98).99 One recites these benedictions over a cup of wine, scented spices, and a kindled light.100 The three ritual elements of the ceremony were conglomerated into the order of the havdalah much before the time of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai, the two major opposing schools of exposition of Oral Law that existed in Eretz Israel from the first century BCE to the second century CE, although the two schools differed about the text and order of the deeds and benedictions that

95 BT Berakhot 33a. This is reported in the name of R. Shaman b. Abba, who said it to R. Joḥanan, and in the name of R. Hiyya b. Abba, who quoted R. Joḥanan. See also BT Ta'anit 24a. See, however, a different view expressed in JT Berakhot 5:2, 9b. 96 Elbogen, Liturgy, 101. 97 Ṭur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 296:1. 98 Isa 12:2–3. 99 The sages of the Mishnah stipulated that every separation between secular and sacred requires a special benediction. See BT Pesahim 106a; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Shabbat, chap. 29, §1. For the text, see Maḥzor Vitry, §150, ed. Goldshmidt, vol. 1, 225–226. 100 According to M Berakhot 8:5. The head of the Sanhedrin, R. Judah haNasi (lit. “Judah the Prince”, the chief redactor and editor of the Mishnah who lived in Eretz Israel, ca. 135–217 CE), later instituted that even the last two should be performed over the cup of wine (‫ )סודרן על הכוס‬for the benefit of his household, as retold in BT Pesahim 54a.

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Figure 98: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

comprise the havdalah. The accepted order of performance of the havdalah at the close of Shabbat follows the mnemonic YaBNE (‫)יבנ"ה‬, namely ‫( יַ יִ ן‬Yayin, wine), ‫( ְּב ָׂש ִמים‬Besamim, spices), ‫( נֵ ר‬Ner, candle), and finally ‫( ַה ְב ָּד ָלה‬Havdalah), the benediction dealing with the separation).101 The final benediction, haMavdil (He who separates), reads, Blessed art You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who separates the holy from the profane, light from darkness, Israel from the nations, the seventh day from the six days of labour. Blessed are you, Lord, who separates the holy from the profane.102

101 See Jacob Adler, “Havdalah as Experience: Bidding Farewell to Shabbat,” in Havdalah; the Post-Sabbath Havdalah Ceremony, ed. David Birnbaum & Martin S. Cohen, editors; Saul J. Berman, associate editor (New York: New Paradigm Matrix, 2016), 161−91; Elliot N. Dorff, “A Literary Approach to Havdalah: Structure and Intertexts,” op. cit, 37−53. 102 Based on Lev 10:10; Gen 1:4; and Lev 20:26, respectively. The last part is laid forth in BT Hullin 26:b.

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 253

The various renditions of this benediction diverge primarily in the number of distinctions mentioned in them.103 The illustration for the havdalah text in the Nuremberg Miscellany depicts a man and a boy performing the ritual at home,104 using three ceremonial objects: the man, presumably the father, holds a turreted spice box in his left hand and a wine goblet in his right (see Figure 99). The boy, standing on a stool, raises a candleholder with a three-wicked braided candle inserted into it, clearly still unlit.

Figure 99: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

103 In BT Pesahim 103b as well as in JT Berakhot 5:2, 9b, it is written that “He who would recite but few distinctions, must recite no fewer than three, but he who would proliferate must not recite more than seven.” The seven distinctions are given in full in BT Pesahim 101a. R. Judah haNasi, however, recited only one, “between the holy and the profane” (BT Pesahim 103b). The consolidated text of the havdalah that was accepted in Ashkenaz is found in Maḥzor Vitry §200, ed. Goldshmidt, vol. 2, 300. 104 In Ashkenaz, as in other communities of the Jewish Diaspora, the ceremony was performed also in the synagogue, mainly for the sake of wayfarers. A detailed description of the synagogal rite is found in the customal book of Yuzpi (Jephthah Juzpa b. Naphtali, 1604–1678), the synagogue beadle from Worms. An English rendering of the description is offered by Shlomo Eidelberg, Medieval Ashkenazic History: Studies on German Jewry in the Middle Ages (Brooklyn: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1999), 126, based on the seventeenth-century manuscript copy in Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, O751, fol. 15v. See also Isaak Holzer, “Aus dem Leben der alten Judengemeinde zu Worms, nach deren ‘Minhagbuch’ des Yuspa Schammes,” Zeitschrift für die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland (ZGJD) V (1935): 169–181. See further on the Minhagim from Worms, Abraham Epstein, “Die Wormser Minhagbücher, literarisches und culturhistorisches aus denselben,” In Gedenkbuch zur Erinnerung an David Kaufmann (Breslau: S. Schottlaender, 1900), 288–317.

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The three objects are the essence of the ceremony, which includes drinking wine, smelling scented plants or spices, lighting a special candle, and extinguishing it at the end of the ritual. The ceremonial objects, the respective benedictions of the havdalah, and its performance appeal to all five senses: tasting the wine, smelling the spices, seeing the flame of the candle, feeling its heat, and hearing the blessings. The benediction over wine fulfils the obligation to recite havdalah over a cup of wine at the close of Shabbat or a festival, just as in the kiddush when it begins. In the image, the father holds a large golden goblet resting on three spherical feet in his right hand, apparently prepared to speak the appropriate blessing.105 The goblet shown here is almost identical to the Schellenbecher held by the houseman in the kiddush scene on fol. 9v, discussed earlier, save the incised decoration on its rim, which is not present here (see Figure 86). The second benediction in the havdalah pertains to scented plants or spices. An explanation of their role in the ceremony may be that the pleasures of the sense of smell are the most refined, affording spiritual rather than corporeal pleasure. Moreover, the fragrance of spices sustains the neshamah yeterah (‫)נְ ָׁש ָמה יְ ֵת ָרה‬, the “additional soul” that had been given to Adam on Shabbat as he grieved the passing of the day.106 While other reasons for the smelling of spices exist, this is the most prevalent explanation among the early Sages, the Rishonim.107 As early as the first centuries of the Common Era, people used twigs of aromatic shrubs to fulfill the miẓvah during the havdalah ceremony. Later, dried herbs were substituted in Europe for the fresh ones. The gradual transition from fresh to dried herbs began probably in the twelfth century. In his responsa Or Zaru'a, R. Isaac b. Moses of Vienna (1180–1250) relates the custom of R. Ephraim of Regensburg (1110–1175) who used to recite the benediction not over a fresh branch of myrtle, but over dry spices kept in a special glass container.108 Yet,

105 The flared goblet is similar to the one made by Melchior Mager (active 1586–1618), though the two differ in the shape of the feet. The 10.5 cm-tall Mager beaker is made of gilt silver. It is currently in private ownership in Zurich, and reproduced in Tebbe-Schürer, Nürnberger Goldschmiedekunst, Bd. II, nos. 82, 278 and fig. 252 there. Here, however, the beaker is borne on three miniature human figures. 106 See BT Beẓah 16a; Ta'anit 27b and Rashi ad loc; Soferim 17:5. Cf. also Tosafot to BT Pesahim 102b, as well as Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Ki Tissa §390, s.v. ‫ואת בגדי השרד‬. For other opinions see, for example, Samuel b. Meir’s commentary on BT Pesahim 102b; Maimonides, Yad, Shabbat, 29; Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 297; or Bahya to Gen 32–36. For a study on the neshamah yeterah in the havdalah, see Martin Samuel Cohen, “The Extra Soul and the Common Heart,” in Havdalah, 91–105. 107 Ṭur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 296. See further Maḥzor Vitry, §151, ed. Goldshmidt, vol. 1, 226. 108 Isaac b. Moses of Vienna, Or Zaru'a (Zhytomyr: Hanina Lipa Shapira, [1862–1890]), vol. 2, no. 92, 622–650. See also Notes on the Exegesis to the Prayerbook by Ele'azar Roqeaḥ (ca. 1176–1238),

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while this is the earliest reference to the use of dry spices rather than freshly picked fragrant herbs, R. Ephraim’s use of a glass dish may be anecdotal, not necessarily indicating the general use of a specially designated receptacle for the havdalah spices. Eventually, the use of such vessels for aromatic spices became commonplace. In Europe in general, and in the German-speaking regions in particular, it eventually became customary to keep the dried spices in a special container, usually made of metal. As the myrtle (Heb. hadas) was the preferred choice in medieval Europe,109 the spice box acquired the name Hadas. Naturally, this was often a perforated receptacle through which the cinnamon, cloves, rosemary, myrtle, and other sweet smelling herbs would exude their fragrance without having to open it. Other early forms of containers for the spices for havdalah were drawer-shaped, divided into compartments, fitted with sliding tops.110 During the ceremony, the receptacle usually circulates among those attending the ritual upon recital of the benediction. Spice boxes eventually assumed a variety of forms and inspired artisans to fantasy and creativity. Among Ashkenazi Jews, it was often made in the shape of a tower, emulating the turret of the palace or the municipal hall, a bastion, or the spire of the local cathedral, complete with lancets, balustrades, and flags. According to one hypothesis, this form originated in the fact that spices, which were imported from the Orient, were so costly that they had to be stored in a castle or the city hall for protection. A different source of inspiration for the Jewish spice tower may have been Christian ritual implements, such as the monstrance and thurible,111 and some reliquary towers that also shared this form. The architectural shape was, indeed, also known as Ele'azar of Worms or Ele'azar ben Judah b. Qalonymus, Havdalah, p. 591, n. 15, quoting David ben Joseph Abudarham, Sefer Abudarham (Warsaw: N. Shriftgisser, 638, 1877) (Hebrew), 188, as well as Sefer Minhagim deVei Maharam, Close of Shabbat, s.v. ‫ ;שאל רבינו‬Mordechai ben Hillel haKohen, BT Berakhot, chap. 188§ ,‫ ;אלו דברים‬as well as Abudarham, Order for the Close of Shabbat, s.v. ‫ומברך על‬. 109 The earliest source that mentions the preference of the myrtle for the havdalah ceremony is Kol Bo §41. For the later, kabbalistic interpretation of this preference, see Zohar to Parashat Vayaqhel, and Isaiah Horowitz, Siddur Shene Luḥot haBerit haShalem, Hilkhot Shabbat (Rulings for Shabbat) (Haifa: Mekhon Yad Ramah, 5757/1997) (Hebrew). 110 See, for example, an early specimen in the collection of Musée de Cluny in Paris, Collection Strauss, no. 94, which, however, does not bear any Jewish designator, such as an inscription or specific Jewish iconography. Its identification as a spice tower is, therefore, uncertain. See Victor Klagsbald, Catalogue raisonné de la collection juive du musée de Cluny (Paris: Éditions de la Réunion des musées nationaux, 1981), 77, no. 91. 111 Such as the silver gilt ciborium with enamel decorations from the Upper Rhine, possibly from Freiburg, ca. 1340, in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. KG1337. It is shaped like a hexagon with pronounced Gothic gables and enameled images from the life of

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favoured in the Middle Ages for various types of Christian metalwork ceremonial objects, particularly since the Gothic period, including censers for church rituals. The similarity in function  – but not in practical use  – between the Christian censers and the Jewish spice containers may have led to the adoption of the tower as the favoured shape for the havdalah spice box. Being generally banned from most Christian artisans’ guilds, including those of the gold- and silversmiths, as mentioned earlier,112 the Jews depended greatly on what was available on the Christian market, and ceremonial implements for synagogue and home use came from the workshops of the same non-Jewish artisans who designed and produced them for ecclesiastical use. For the most part, the Jews themselves could produce only objects made of lesser materials. In fact, when commissioning a Jewish ceremonial object, a Jewish patron could either use common nomenclature, or order an object similar to what was available in the artisan’s shop or in his model book, while explicitly stressing the need to abstain from any non-Jewish symbol, such as a cross finial or other Christian imagery. As with most Judaica objects, the nascence of the tower-shaped spice box is a matter of conjecture. A thirteenth-century sample, probably from Spain, is currently in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.113 Shaped like a square tower, it rests on a foot, with three rows of horseshoe arches cut into its body. The gabled roof cap of the object serves for the insertion of the spices into the container. Another object, likewise in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, is in the form of a Gothic tower.114 It tells an interesting story of adaptation of a Christian ritual object for Jewish use. This gilt copper receptacle is probably of North Italian manufacture and dates back to the fifteenth century. It  was originally devised as a reliquary, and only later, at an unknown date, was it “converted” into a Jewish spice box.115 Despite serious doubts as to the provenance, authenticity and original function of the two examples from the Victoria and Albert Museum and to their “Jewishness,” later examples show that the Jews of Germany, too, favoured the tower-shaped spice box. The earliest extant German example dates from about

Jesus, the Apostles, Mary and Child, and John the Baptist. See discussion and image in Großmann et al., Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 44. 112 P. 65 113 London, Victoria and Albert Museum, Museum no. 2090–1855. See Narkiss, “Origins of the Spicebox,” 29, fig. 1. 114 Museum no. M.40&:1–1951. 115 See Michael Keen, Jewish Ritual Art in the Victoria and Albert Museum (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1991), 116.

Havdalah 

 257

1550. It originated from the synagogue in Friedberg (Hesse) and is now in the Jewish Museum in New York.116 A similarly shaped spice box, also in the form of a tower, is dated 1543. It had been treasured in the Landesmuseum at Kassel, but was subsequently lost in a Nazi raid on the museum.117 Only a few decades later in the sixteenth century, the spice box depicted on fol. 29v of the Nuremberg Miscellany presents the fully developed features of a tower that was to become the most common form for such ceremonial objects in Ashkenaz. It is reminiscent of an early sixteenth-century spice box from Germany in the collection of the Israel Museum in Jerusalem (see Figure 100).118

Figure 100: Spice box, Germany, early 16c. [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 124/564; B90.0090 (Photo by Elie Posner)

Both spice boxes, in Nuremberg and Jerusalem, are shaped like Gothic tower monstrances, with small turrets attached to the body of the receptacle and finials 116 New York, The Jewish Museum, JM 23–52. See Kleeblatt and Mann, Jewish Museum, 34; and Mann, “‘New’ Examples”: 15, fig. 4. 117 Reproduced in Narkiss, “Origins of the Spicebox,” 29, fig. 2. See also additional examples drawn from German legal documents in idem, "Origin of the Spicebox", 194-195. 118 Accession number 124/564; B90.0090, gift of Erica and Ludwig Jesselson, New York, through the American Friends of the Israel Museum. An almost identical object previously belonged to the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg and was published in Pechstein, Deutsche Goldschmiedekunst, 48, fig. 60. However, according to information provided by Ms. Bianca Hendl-Slowik of the Photographic Department of the Museum, it has been deaccessioned in 1988 from the collection due to dubious authenticity.

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atop.119 It is, however, unclear whether their original purpose was to serve as Jewish spice boxes or whether they were converted for such use. Especially “suspicious” are the eight-lobed base and the nodus at the centre of the shaft that are typical of Christian ritual objects, whether monstrances or chalices. An especially close parallel comes from a woodcut illustrating the reliquaries of the former Benedictine Abbey St. Ulrich and Afra in Augsburg from the sixteenth century (see Figure 101). The object (sixth from the left in the bottom

Figure 101: Inventory of reliquaries in the former Benedictine Abbey St. Ulrich and Afra in Augsburg, Augsburg (?), Germany, 16c [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB4500] 119 For an example from the Christian world, see the ciborium, made in 1396 in Cologne, Pfarrkirche St. Mariä Himmelfahrt, discussed and reproduced in Anton Legner, ed., Rhein und Maas. Kunst und Kultur 800–1400. Eine Ausstellung des Schnütgen-Museums der Stadt Köln und der belgischen Ministerien für französische und niederländische Kultur (Cologne: Schnütgen-Museum, 1972), no. Q2, 401. See also the reliquary-ostensorium made in Brussels around 1410–1420 and kept in Loonbeck-Huldenberg, St. Antoniuskerk. For a description and reproduction, see Anton Legner, ed. Die Parler und der Schöne Stil 1350–1400: Europäischer Kunst unter den Luxemburgen (Cologne: Schnütgen-Museum, 1978), Bd. 1, 98. Truely, the form of the object presents a flatter body than the spice boxes, due to its designation, but the basic concept of the vessel is close enough to the Jewish specimens that it and similar objects like it could have been their formal model of inspiration.

Havdalah 

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register), captioned Ein monstranz, shares common features with the spice box in the Nuremberg Miscellany, including the turrets, details of the shaft, and the foot (see Figure 102).

Figure 102: Inventory of reliquaries in the former Benedictine Abbey St. Ulrich and Afra in Augsburg, Augsburg (?), Germany, 16c: Ein monstranz . . . (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, Inv. No. HB4500]

The resemblance between the Jewish objects and the monstrance and other similar items suggests that they were, in fact, adaptations from a Christian model. Although there seems to be no clear-cut indication either way, the formal affinity of the spice box in the Israel Museum Collection to the object depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany leaves very little doubt that such vessels were in vogue among Jews in Germany in the sixteenth century. Whether originally made as such or in secondary use, they served Jews of the local financial elite for the havdalah ceremony.120 The second part of the havdalah comprises the benediction recited over light. Kindling a candle at this point in the ritual recalls God’s creation of the luminaries at the beginning of the primeval week, as told in Genesis 1:3–4. It calls for a recurring benediction of gratitude for light and the sun, the moon, and the

120 The image in the Nuremberg Miscellany is too small and the deftness of the artist too limited to see the exact shape of the foot and the shaft. However, small round bulges on the base of the foot are visible.

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stars at the beginning of every week.121 Furthermore, it indicates the departure of Shabbat and the coming of another week of ordinary days.122 Havdalah candles are made of at least two wicks, as can be surmised by analogy from the passage in the Babylonian Talmud regarding the search for leaven on the eve of Passover. The sages deliberated on the effectiveness of the light used for that purpose and distinguished between the relatively bleak light of a candle and the brightness of a torch. Thereupon Raba asked whether it would be preferable to use a torch for performing this duty.123 This query, left open, was later tackled in the Shulḥan 'Arukh in the second half of the sixteenth century, where its author, R. Josef Qaro postulated explicitly that it is, indeed, desirable.124 Moreover, such an injunction regarding the light for havdalah was probably also inspired by the wording of the benediction over the light recited during the ceremony: “Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe who creates the lights of the fire (‫אֹורי ָה ֵאׁש‬ ֵ ‫)ּבֹורא ְמ‬.” ֵ While the first part of the expression (me’orei ‫אֹורי‬ ֵ ‫—מ‬ ְ “the lights of . . .”) is in the plural, the second component (haEsh ‫“—ה ֵאׁש‬the ָ fire”) is in the singular, implying a light made of a number of flames. Another explanation may be that the intertwined wicks symbolise the Jewish people, who are at the same time united and diverse. These traditions led to the custom of creating one flame from at least two sources of light,125 and eventually to the introduction of the multi-wick, typically braided candle such as the one in the image in the Nuremberg Miscellany.126 The illustration on fol. 29r of the manuscript shows a boy holding a braided candle with three wicks, not yet alight. The candle is set in a wooden holder with thin vertical staves that serve to keep it upright. Such candleholders, known in the German-speaking realm as the Havdala-Holz (lit. “havdalah-wood”), were probably devised to keep the drops of the hot melted wax from dripping onto the hand of the person holding the candle, especially as it becomes shorter and brings the flame close to the hand. An early specimen of such an object, supposedly made

121 According to Genesis Rabbah, no. 12. 122 In fact, the havdalah celebrated after festivals, on which the use of fire is permitted, does not include the ritual lighting of the candle. When performed after Yom Kippur, which resembles Shabbat in the prohibition of the use of fire, this benediction is included, but the spices are omitted. 123 BT Pesahim, 8a. 124 Oraḥ Ḥayyim 298:2: ...‫מצוה מן המובחר לברך על אבוקה‬. 125 Ibid. An exegetical tradition pertaining to the creation of light ex nihilo on the first day of the Creation is given in BT Pesahim, 53b and elaborated on in Genesis Rabbah xi, no. 11. See also Pesiqta Rabbati 23 and JT Berakhot 7, 12b. 126 Ṭur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim, 298.

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 261

in Posen and dated by its inscription to 1521, is about 57 cm long, significantly longer than the one in the illustration (see Figure 103).127

Figure 103: Havdala-Holz, Posen, 1529 [Jerusalem, The Wolfson Museum of Jewish Art–Hechal Shlomo, Inv. No. HS 1861–29–55]

This early Havdala-Holz differs from the holder in the Miscellany also by featuring a small drawer for spices, doubling its function to accommodate both the second and third havdalah benedictions.128 Yet, these two candleholders reflect a folk artefact that evolved from a functional need and was eventually transformed also into the more costly silver version.129 The educational message of the havdalah scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany is transmitted through the inclusion of the child not as a passive onlooker, but as an active participant in the ritual. Although children are exempt from perfor-

127 Jerusalem, Sir Isaac and Lady Edith Wolfson Museum, Inv. No. HS 1861–29–55. The inscription also localises the object to Posen. It was included in the exhibition Europas Juden im Mittelalter, Historisches Museum der Pfalz, Speyer 2004, and published in the catalogue of Alfred Haverkamp et al., Europas Juden im Mittelalter (Katalog anlässlich der Ausstellung “Europas Juden im Mittelalter” im Historischen Museum der Pfalz Speyer vom 19. November 2004 bis zum 20. März 2005; im Deutschen Historischen Museum Berlin vom 23. April bis 28. August 2005) (Ostfildern: Hatje Cantz, 2005), 146–147. 128 A much later havdalah candle holder made of wood is in the collection of the Jewish Museum in Frankfurt am Main. See Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “Die Pracht der Gebote. Ausgewählte Objekte der Judaica-Sammlung des Jüdischen Museums Frankfurt am Main,” in Die Pracht der Gebote. Die Judaica-Sammlung des Jüdischen Museums Frankfurt am Main, ed. Georg Heuberger (Cologne: Jüdisches Museum Frankfurt am Main / Wienand, 2006), 192 and photo on 193. 129 Such as the candlestick and spicebox from Nuremberg of the eighteenth century in the Feuchtwanger Collection [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, HF 235, no. 124/413]. See Isaiah Shachar, Jewish Tradition in Art. The Feuchtwanger Collection of Judaica, trans. R. Grafman (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 1981), 94, no. 235.

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mance of the miẓvot until they become religiously responsible, or bar miẓvah,130 when they reach the age of thirteen, the son is nonetheless assisting his father who is performing the havdalah.131 Traditionally, certain roles in Jewish rituals go to the under-aged, one of which is holding the havdalah candle, thereby becoming familiar with the miẓvah. The child in the manuscript stands on a stool to reach the height of his father, highlighting his eagerness to observe his share in the ritual. The cross-generational scene in the Miscellany is reminiscent of an anonymous woodcut illustration incorporated into Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh, which appears on fol. 3v of the book (see Figure 104). In this havdalah scene, one child holds a

Figure 104: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 3v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

tower-shaped spice container while another boy is carrying a candleholder. The father holds the third object required for the ritual, the wine goblet, while folding the fingers of his left hand and looking at the refection of the havdalah lights on his fingernails.132 In addition to the two youngsters, a third child stands further 130 Before assuming full religious responsibility, children are nonetheless taking part in Jewish life, including rituals and ceremonies performed in the synagogue. On educating children to miẓvot in Ashkenaz, see Tali Berner, “Children and Childhood in Early Modern Ashkenaz,” (PhD diss. The Hebrew University, 2010), 167–203 (Hebrew). 131 Girls reach religious adulthood at twelve, yet as females they are exempt from most of the temporal or time-bound positive miẓvot. 132 This custom, first recorded in Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, is rendered in the original Hebrew version and in translation by Sol Feininger, “The Custom of Looking at the Fingernails at

Vines for Havdalah 

 263

back, merely observing and not fulfilling any role in the ceremony. All three are standing on a low table, still not reaching their father’s eye level. The Yiddish caption of the image in the Minhogim Bukh explains the ideologicaleducational message of the scene: “[This is] how the head of the household performs the havdalah very seriously and educates his little children to miẓvot and good deeds.”133 The very same caption in the singular would have been appropriate for the illustration of the havdalah in the Nuremberg Miscellany as well.

Vines for Havdalah Just as welcoming Shabbat involves singing hymns, so does the ritual of ushering it out with the havdalah ceremony. One of the most popular hymns for that occasion is the piyyuṭ ‫( ַה ַּמ ְב ִּדיל ֵּבין ק ֶֹדׁש ְלחֹל‬haMavdil Bein Qodesh leḤol, lit. “He who Separates the Sacred from the Profane”).134 The identity of the poet is indicated in the name embedded in an acrostic, ‫יעקב הקטן‬, namely Jacob the Lesser (or the Younger), whom some researchers identify as Isaac b. Judah ibn Ghiyyat (Spain, 1030–1089). Scholars also hypothesise that haMavdil was originally composed for recitation at the close of Yom Kippur as part of the liturgy of the Ne'ilah (lit. “Conclusion”) service, rather than for havdalah. This hypothesis relies on the theme of forgiveness in the first and third stanzas as well as the reference to closing the gates at the waning of the day in the second stanza – both being leitmotifs in the liturgy of the holiday. The piyyuṭ dates back at least to the eleventh century, as noted by R. Simḥa of Vitry. Mordechai b. Hillel haKohen (Germany, ca. 1250–1298), also known as “the Mordechai”, also mentioned it at the end of his commentary on BT Yoma’, which is devoted to the laws of Yom Kippur. Both authorities associate haMavdil with the Ne'ilah service. Another version of the piyyuṭ, though, became part of the havdalah service in most Jewish communities. It begins with the words “He who separates the holy

the Outgoing of Shabbat,” in Gutmann, Beauty in Holiness, 263. 133 I gratefully owe the accuracy of this translation to Prof. Jean Baumgarten. Education of children in Ashkenaz specifically in the Early Modern Period is the subject of the study by Jean Baumgarten, “L’enseignement des enfants dans la société juive traditionnelle d’après les livres de morale en yiddish (xvie–xviiie siècles).” In Entre héritage et devenir. La construction de la famille juive: Études offertes à Joseph Mélèze-Modrzejewski, edited by Patricia Hidiroglou, 145– 168 (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2003) 145−168. 134 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 2, no. 741, 147–148.

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from the profane” and was therefore found fitting to mark the separation between the holiness of Shabbat and festivals and the “profanity” of the weekdays. The text of haMavdil appears on folios 29v-30v of the Nuremberg Miscellany. Its ornate initial word , on fol. 29v, features large-size letters embellished in green and red (see Figure 105). A grapevine bearing two clusters of grapes, one on each side, grows from the ascender of the ‫—ל‬the last letter in the initial word. The grapes are obviously associated with the wine, which plays an important role in the havdalah ceremony. The first benediction is pronounced over wine or grape juice, although if these are not available, other beverages are acceptable instead. The Shulḥan 'Arukh, for example, explicitly permits the use of beer for havdalah.135 However, the eminent Ashkenazi halakhic authority R. Moses Isserles states that where wine is available, one must use it for the ritual.136 The Shulḥan 'Arukh, conversely, rules in a few places that if wine is unavailable, one may use Ḥamar

Figure 105: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

135 Oraḥ Ḥayyim, 296:2. 136 Ibid. §272:9.

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 265

Medinah (a common local beverage, preferrably alcoholic) for various rituals, including havdalah, and it is likewise permissible for people who cannot tolerate wine.137 The various views regarding the preferred beverage for havdalah notwithstanding, it has generally been accepted that havdalah be recited over wine. There is reference to this common custom in the decorations of fol. 29v of the Nuremberg Miscellany. A careful look at the ornamentation of the letter ‫ ל‬at the end of the initial word reveals moreover that along with the grapes other kinds of fruit are depicted. These are probably representations of a pomegranate, perhaps also a fig or a pear and possibly a date, all sprouting from the same stem. This special iconography calls to mind another astounding example of various fruit sorts growing on the same tree, in the Abraham’s Hospitality scene on fol. 3r of the Nuremberg Miscellany (see above, 154–155). There it denotes the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden, or the Tree of Life. The special vegetal decoration of the initial letter on fol. 29v of the Miscellany seems to lead in the same direction. The main motif of havdalah is separation—the distinction between the holy and profane, between light and darkness, between the People of Israel and the nations, between the seventh day of Shabbat and the six working days. Its ritual and liturgy require the ability to differentiate between one and the other in order to begin another weekly cycle. Similarly, having eaten the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, Adam and Eve and all their offspring lost their right to dwell in the Garden of Eden for eternity, but, at the same time, became capable of knowing right from wrong. Yet, the expulsion from the Garden of Eden also brought some measure of consolation to humankind. Tradition has it that on Shabbat, a neshamah yeterah, an “additional (or superior) soul,” joins the “ordinary” soul as part of the delight conferred on the holy day, which is a divine gift in itself. The Babylonian Talmud teaches in the name of R. Simeon b. Yoḥai, “The Holy One, blessed be He, gave Israel three precious gifts, and all of them were given only through sufferings. These are the Torah, the Land of Israel, and the world to come . . .”138 Shabbat, the gift of God to His people,139 is in itself a reflection of the World to Come.140 Therefore, as long as the neshamah yetera—that special soul that delights the Jew on Shabbat—still dwells in him, he rejoices with the pleasures of the day. Nonetheless, as soon as Shabbat is over and the havdalah ceremony has been

137 Loc. cit. If recited over a non-alcoholic beverage, the text of the benediction is changed accordingly. 138 BT Berakhot 57b. 139 BT Shabbat 10b. 140 BT Berakhot 57b.

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completed, the neshamah yeterah returns to the Garden of Eden until the following Shabbat. Its departure leaves people with only one soul for the week.141 The precise moment of final separation between Shabbat and the next weekday is the conclusion of reciting haMavdil. The piyyuṭ, featured on fols. 29v-30v of the Nuremberg Miscellany and its initial word, aptly decorated both with the grapevines of the earthly realm and the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge, represents the heavenly notion of Shabbat with the special additional soul that pleases the Jew during that holy day.

141 BT Beiẓa 16a, and Ta'anit 27b. See also Rashi ad loc, s.v. ‫נשמה יתירה‬, as well as other sources.

Chapter 8  Ḥanukkah Barking Foe The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany created a monumental initial word for the most famous piyyuṭ for Ḥanukkah, ‫( ָמעֹוז צּור‬Ma'oz Ẓur, lit. “Stronghold of the Rock [of my Salvation]”—an epithet for God) (see Figure 106). This hymn is recited immediately after the kindling of the lights on each of the eight days of the festival. The piyyuṭ originates most likely in the thirteenth century and its author was a certain Mordechai, who acrosticated his name in the first five stanzas. It seems to reflect the horrors of the Crusades and the distress of the Jewish people faced with the choice between forced conversion and death.

Figure 106: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The title of the piyyuṭ alludes to the Hasmonean stronghold of Beit-Ẓur (lit. “house of the rock,” also known as Bethsura) and the battle that took place there in 164

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-009

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 Chapter 8 Ḥanukkah

BCE.1 That historical confrontation between the Seleucid Syro-Greek general Lysias and the Jewish rebels led by Judas Maccabeus, resulted in the defeat of Lysias and his forces. After this victory, the Maccabees recaptured Jerusalem, and purified and rededicated the Temple. The festival of Ḥanukkah celebrates the event, reflected in its name, which means “dedication.” The piyyuṭ recalls the many occasions when Jewish communities were delivered from persecution, beginning, in the second stanza, with the Exodus from Egypt, and followed by the third stanza telling of the return from the Babylonian exile, the fourth, recalling the miracle of Purim, and the fifth, climaxing with the Hasmonean victory commemorated by Ḥanukkah. A certain line in the first stanza has a visual reflection in the initial letter ‫ מ‬of the initial word ‫ ָמעֹוז‬in the manuscript (see Figure 107). Its left vertical line resembles a fox- wolf- or dog-like head with its tongue sticking out. This is a linguistic pun, referring to the words “And there we shall offer You our thanks when You will have completely silenced the barking foe.” The artist’s interpretation of the word ‫ ְמנַ ֵב ַח‬in the piyyuṭ draws upon the root ‫ח‬.‫ב‬.‫נ‬. which builds the Hebrew word for “to bark”

Figure 107: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

(‫)נָ ַבח‬. In fact, though, when conjugated differently in medieval Hebrew, as in the piyyuṭ (‫)נִ ֵב ַח‬, the word means to abuse or to curse. The jutting tongue of the animal alludes to its loud barking blasphemous mouth that will be silenced by God.2 This

1 As told in I Macc 4:29, 61; 6:7, 26, 31, 49, 50; 9:52; 10:14; 11:65; 14:7, 33. See also Josephus, Antiquities, XIII, v. 6. 2 Isa 56:10–12 reads: “His watchmen are blind, they are all without knowledge, they are all dumb dogs, they cannot bark; dreaming, lying down, loving to slumber. The dogs have a mighty appetite; they never have enough. The shepherds also have no understanding; they have all turned

The Ḥanukkah Feast 

 269

interpretation is based on Isaiah 56:10, which the midrash elucidates as alluding specifically to Nebuchadnezzar who decreed that the Jews of Eretz Israel worship him as if he were a deity. Yet to the Jews, this demand was not only regarded as idolatry, it was also compared to a dog’s barking, according to this midrashic tradition.3 The other vertical line of the same letter ‫ מ‬shows a frontal humanoid head with pointed ears or horns. A hand entwined on the left bar of the letter points at this demonic figure, perhaps a satyr,4 to complete the message of Israel’s deliverance from their hateful enemies. The image may be a grotesque portrayal of the great foe, Nebuchadnezzar.

The Ḥanukkah Feast The feast of Ḥanukkah, also known as the “Festival of Lights,” is considered a minor festival that has no origins in the codified Jewish biblical canon. It commemorates the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem at the time of the Hasmonean Revolt in 164 BCE, on the 25th day of the Hebrew month of Kislev.5 The story of Ḥanukkah, along with its precepts and customs, is conspicuously absent from early rabbinic sources, including the Mishnah, with the exception of a few passing references.6 Later, however, it features extensively in the Talmud, albeit in the context of the laws of kindling Shabbat lights, which then develops into a discussion of the Ḥanukkah candles.7 The observance of Ḥanukkah includes a series of rituals performed daily, privately and communally, throughout the eight-day holiday. The main rite is the kindling of lights in commemoration of those that were lit on the Temple’s sevenbranched candelabrum (menorah) after all of the ritually clean olive oil had been desecrated by the troops of Antiochus IV. Searching for oil to rekindle the menorah, the Hasmoneans discovered only one small flask of undefiled olive oil, still bearing the seal of the High Priest. Normally sufficient for a single day, to their own way, each to his own gain one and all. Come, they say, let us get wine let us fill ourselves with strong drink; and tomorrow will be like this day, great beyond measure.” 3 See the midrashic exegesis in Leviticus Rabbah 33:6, s.v. ‫ואת כלבא שוין‬. 4 Compare the ivory relief with staghorn antlers made around 1625 by Christoph Angermair (ca. 1580–1633), in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, no. R4707, in Glaser, Wittelsbach, vol. II/2, no. 282, 194. 5 BT Shabbat 21b. See the background of the festival also in the chapter on “Judith and Holofernes”, 209–210. 6 M Bikkurim 1:6; Rosh Hashanah 1:3; Ta'anit 2:10; Megillah 3:4; 3:6; Mo'ed Katan 3:9, and Bava Kamma 6:6. 7 BT Shabbat 21b.

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it miraculously kept the menorah burning for eight days until the new oil was processed.8 The gratitude for the delivery from oppression and the miraculous oil flask are the reasons for the special addition to the day’s thanksgiving benediction, 'al haNissim, in the 'amidah. It is included also in the second benediction of the Grace after Meals on the two minor festivals—Ḥanukkah and Purim. Although naturally 'al haNissim is chiefly the retelling of the victory achieved by the Hasmoneans, it concludes with the words “.  .  . and appointed these eight days of Ḥanukkah in order to give thanks and praises unto Your great name.”9 This coda is the source and origin for the introduction of joyous customs for the festival, on which fasting is prohibited “as these are days of feasts and joys.”10 Both minor festivals, Ḥanukkah and Purim, are of secondary importance compared to the other holidays in the Jewish calendar. However, whereas on Purim a mandatory banquet (se'udat miẓvah) is required, the case of Ḥanukkah is more complex. The difference between the two festivals originates in the nature of the oppression from which God delivered the Jews in the respective stories: Purim marks the salvation from the danger of physical extinction, whereas Ḥanukkah is a story of spiritual oppression and subsequent redemption. Thus, while a mandatory banquet is not required on Ḥanukkah, it was nonetheless often celebrated on the Shabbat that is invariably included within the eight days of the festival, as an optional addition of festivity.11 Judaism recognises two main kinds of mandatory meals: one linked to life cycle events such as circumcision, wedding, or funeral, and the other marking a specific accomplishment, like a siyyum, or the completion of the study of a tractate of Mishnah or Talmud. Additional obligatory banquets are part of a particular holiday or fast day. In order to designate such a meal on Ḥanukkah as well, some rabbis suggested honouring the festival and the respective Shabbat through the recitation of hymns of praise commemorating the events, thus ascribing a more religious nature to the feast.12 The late fifteenth century R. Judah b. Nathan Zack (known also as Selkli Zack or Maharaz), with his disciples, composed a rhymed poem in a mixture of Hebrew and Yiddish for the Ḥanukkah feast. Based on the notion that “there is no joy without

8 Loc. cit. and I Macc 4:51–57; as well as the Scholion commetary to Ta'anit, s.v. ‫כסלו‬. Other traditions regarding this festival tell an entirely different story as to its origin and historical setting. See, for example, II Macc 10:8–11; and Josephus, Antiquities, book 12. 9 ‫ּול ַה ֵּלל ְל ִׁש ְמָך ַהּגָ דֹול‬ ְ ‫וְ ָק ְבעּו ְׁשמֹונַ ת יְ ֵמי ֲחנֻ ָּכה ֵאּלּו ְלהֹודֹות‬, according to the Ashkenazi version. 10 Tosafot to Ta'anit 18:2 s.v. ‫הלכה‬. 11 See above, 215, n. 172. 12 As, for example, per Shulḥan 'Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥayyim §670, 20.

The Ḥanukkah Feast 

 271

wine,” Judah b. Nathan comments on the precepts of the day laid down in Sefer Miẓvot Gadol (Heb. Great Book of Commandments, acrosticated “SeMaG”) by the French Tosafist R. Moses b. Jacob of Coucy in first half of the thirteenth century. The book suggests the inclusion in the festival a meal of meat and wine, providing Judah b. Nathan Zack with the justification for his support of celebrating a se'udat miẓvah on Ḥanukkah, while thereby countering the opinions of other halakhists.13 Another authority who promoted the celebration of a festive meal on Ḥanukkah was R. Solomon Luria (Poland, 1510–1573), often referred to by his acronym Maharshal or Rashal. In his major halakhic work, Yam Shel Shlomo (lit. “Sea of Solomon”), he dedicated a discourse to the issue of the mandatory banquet, where he equates the feast of Ḥanukkah to the celebrations of circumcision, Redemption of the Firstborn, and completion of the study of a Talmudic tractate. Maharshal explains that “all these are called mandatory banquets.”14 Relying on Maimonides,15 Maharshal disagreed with Maharam of Rothenburg, who recalled that the purpose of the Ḥanukkah feast is to praise the deliverance and publicise it,16 whereas the point of a mandatory banquet is to indulge in “drink and joy.” Maharshal’s ruling in Yam Shel Shlomo relies on his interpretation of earlier sources, which he re-examines to support his halakhic conclusion.17 First printed in Prague in 1616,18 slightly after the date of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the text must nonetheless have existed in manuscript form and, considering the importance of its author, circulated throughout western Ashkenaz, sustaining a custom established centuries earlier. The section in the Nuremberg Miscellany discussing the festival of Ḥanukkah spans from fol. 30v to 32r. The primary text includes the ritual of the candle lighting with all the additional hymns and piyyuṭim recited on that occasion. The secondary text summarises the customs prescribing the manner of lighting the candles. Prominent within the primary text is the piyyuṭ ‫( ִא ְכלּו ַמ ְׁש ַמּנִ ים‬Ikhlu Mashmanim, lit. Heb. “Eat oily foods”)19 (fols. 31v-32r). The piyyuṭ is essentially a 13 The poem is found in a manuscript in Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. hebr. 205 (Uff. 232). See Moritz Steinschneider, Catalog der hebräischen Handschriften in der Stadtbibliothek zu Hamburg und der sich anschliessenden in anderen Sprachen, mit einem Vorwort zur Neuausgabe von Hellmut Braun (Hildesheim: G. Olms, 1969) (reprint of Hamburg, 1878), no. 205.‬‬ 14 Yam Shel Shlomo §37. 15 Mishneh Torah, Rulings for Ḥanukkah §83, no. 3. 16 Ṭur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim §670. 17 Among them BT Shabbat 21b; Rashi ad loc, and others. 18 The book was published by Abraham b. Simeon ish Heida. 19 The title derives from Neh 9:10, which is a call for consolation and rejoicing, and for faith in God’s deliverance: “Then he said unto them: ‘Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and

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call for festive eating. Only a brief reference in the refrain indicates its role in the Shabbat of Ḥanukkah liturgy.20 Here, in the manuscript, it opens with a formally executed initial word of large-size letters in brown ink beginning with an ornate initial letter ‫( א‬see Figure 108).21 The author of the piyyuṭ, composed in Ashkenaz no later than the early fifteenth century, was a certain Abraham, whose name is acrosticated in it.22

Figure 108: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The enigmatic refrain of the piyyuṭ alludes also to the measured area in which one may sow a specific volume of wheat called Beit Kor (‫)בית ּכֹור‬, ֵ and the actions required for celebrating the special Ḥanukkah banquet. Unlike other Ḥanukkah hymns, though, it contains no reference to national victory or religious expression of praise for deliverance, but rather a call for the material enjoyment of food send portions unto him for whom nothing is prepared; for this day is holy unto our Lord; neither be ye grieved; for the joy of the Lord is your strength.’” 20 The refrain of the piyyuṭ is founded on a passage in Bava Kamma 58b. 21 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, no. 3261, 153. 22 Some maintain that its composer was R. Abraham ibn Ezra, although this assumption is highly unlikely.

The Ḥanukkah Feast 

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and wine, bordering on encouragement of hedonism and gluttony.23 In addition to semolina, turtledoves, and pigeons, the first stanza of the piyyuṭ refers to the tradition of serving fried foods on Ḥanukkah in commemoration of the tiny oil flask that miraculously lasted eight days. Although women are generally exempt from time-bound positive commandments,24 the Talmud specifically prescribes the miẓvah of lighting Ḥanukkah candles to women and men alike “for they [the women] too were involved in the miracle.”25 According to that tradition, Judith was the daughter of Yoḥanan the High Priest, sister of Mattathias the Hasmonean and aunt of Judas Maccabeus. The apocryphal Book of Judith relates the story of her triumph over the enemy’s general, Holofernes, as discussed above.26 Codes of Jewish law suggest a somewhat different version of the story, according to which the Assyrian governor insisted on a privilege similar to the ius primae noctis.27 Hoping to save not only her own honour, but also the virtue of all future brides from sexual abuse, Judith set out to slay the villain. Nissim b. Reuven of Girona (Barcelona, 1320–1376), also known by the acronym Ran, was famous mainly for his commentary of the halakhic rulings of R. Isaac b. Jacob Alfasi haCohen (Algeria, 1013–1103). Probably following earlier traditions, he maintains that Judith fed the villain cheese, thereby arousing his thirst, and offered him wine to quench it. In his drowsiness, she could easily fulfil her plot to decapitate him.28 Based on this version of the story of Judith,29 Jewish custom adds a culinary element to the holiday menu, namely dairy foods, particularly cheese.30 In another version of the narrative, the author of the fourteenth century Kol Bo links the story of Judith with that of the reminiscent biblical story of Yael and

23 In his Responsa §137, R. Israel b. Ḥayyim Bruna remarks that no Torah scholar could have written this piyyuṭ, as he would have known that the Ḥanukkah meal is not considered an obligatory repast, or se'udat miẓvah. 24 I.e., religious obligations requiring action that must be performed at specific times, as discussed above, 41–42. 25 BT Shabbat 23a, according to R. Joshua b. Levi. 26 Pp. 209–219. 27 See Rashi to BT Shabbat 23a. 28 Commentary on Alfasi, BT Shabbat, 10a, s.v. ‫שאף הן‬. See also Moses Isserles, Darkhei Moshe haQaẓẓar, Oraḥ Ḥayyim §606, ‫א‬. 29 For the story of Judith and a different tradition of her life and deeds, see the chapter on “Judith and Holofernes,” 210–219, dealing with the illustration on p. 10v. 30 As per Shulḥan 'Arukh, ‘Oraḥ Ḥayyim 670:2. The development of the special dishes for Ḥanukkah is described by Susan Weingarten, “Medieval Ḥanukkah Traditions: Jewish Festive Foods in their European Contexts,” Food and History 8, no. 1 (2018), 41–62.

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Sisera,31 in which Yael lures the Canaanite general to rest in her tent, serves him dairy food (milk and butter, according to the biblical text), and kills him with a tent peg and mallet. Accordingly, he concludes from the earlier historical victory that dairy foods should be eaten also on Ḥanukkah. The author relates: There are those who explain that, through the hand of a woman, a great miracle happened. Her name was Judith. The midrash tells us that Yoḥanan the High Priest had a beautiful daughter. The Greek king said to her “lie with me.” He ate a cheese dish [that she had prepared] in order that he should become thirsty and drink a lot and become drunk and fall asleep, and it happened in that way. He came to lie down and fell asleep and she grabbed a sword and cut off his head and she brought it with her to Jerusalem, and they saw the strength for she killed a mighty one and they [the enemy soldiers] ran away. Therefore, we are accustomed to make a cheese dish on Ḥanukkah.32

Quoting R. Moses Isserles, the Shulḥan 'Arukh similarly relies on the foodstuffs that Judith offered Holofernes, suggesting a connection between the miracle of salvation and the festive meal of the day: The many meals which we add on [these days] are voluntary meals, since [the Sages] did not establish them as [days of] feasting and joy. But some say that there is somewhat of a miẓvah in adding meals, because during those days was the Dedication of the Altar . . . Some say that cheese should be eaten during Ḥanukkah, because a miracle was done though milk which Yehudit [i.e., Judith] fed the enemy.33

It is surprising that, despite the role of women in the stories underlying the festival and in performing its ritual traditions,34 the illustration related to the Ḥanukkah section in the Nuremberg Miscellany features a man as the only person enjoying the festal repast (see Figure 109). While the prescribed role of women is limited to the candle lighting and they are not obligated to partake in the miẓvah meal, they are nonetheless permitted to participate in it.35 Their absence from the scene is, therefore, noteworthy.36 31 Judg 4:17–22. 32 Kol Bo, chap. 44. 33 Shulḥan 'Arukh, ‘Oraḥ Ḥayyim 670:2. 34 As per BT Shabbat 23a. 35 In a responsum by Maharam of Rothenburg, he refers to the festive meal en passant, his main deliberation being a repentant mother who accidentally caused her son’s death by lying on him. Regarding these particular circumstances, Maharam stipulates that she is required to fast a whole year with some festive exceptions, such as Ḥanukkah, when she is to eat meat and drink wine. The text is brought by Baumgarten, Practicing Piety, 81−82. 36 In another festive setting in the Nuremberg Miscellany, that of the kiddush (fol. 9v), the gender distribution is more balanced, featuring a husband and wife sitting down to a meal. The

The Ḥanukkah Feast 

 275

Figure 109: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliotek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

One explanation of this apparent omission may be the observation that the function of the illustration did not include a specific reference to the narrative behind the historical tradition of the miracle but only to recall the festive meal and its components as such. The visual representation clearly echoes the piyyuṭ whose initial word, first stanza, and refrain appear directly above it, and which provides a succulent description of a sumptuous banquet. Reading the verses of the piyyuṭ, the iconographic importance of the delicacies depicted becomes clear. The bird in the celebrant’s hand alludes to one of the strophes of the hymn: “fattened fowl roasted on spits,” inspired by I Kings 5:3,37 which describes King Solomon’s daily provision that included ‫בּוסים‬ ִ ‫ב ְר ֻב ִרים ֲא‬, ַ translated as “fattened fowl.” In Modern Hebrew, the word ‫( ַב ְרבּור‬barbur) or ‫בּורים‬ ִ ‫( ַב ְר‬plur. barburim) denotes swan;38 however, there is no accepted identification of the biblical bird by that name. Different commentators have made diverse

two scenes share another common iconographic detail: the cooling basin with two pitchers of different forms, one for wine and one for water. 37 The traditional non-Hebrew translation of the Bible follows a different division to paragraphs and verses. The relevant text is, accordingly, in I Kgs 4:22–23: “Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty cors of fine flour, and sixty cors of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, a hundred sheep, besides harts, gazelles, roebucks, and fatted fowl.” 38 Modern Hebrew orthography does not include diacritic marks; rather it employs vowel letters that, together with the consonants, construct the plene spelling of each word. Thus, in this case, ‫ ַב ְר ֻב ִרים‬would be spelled ‫ברבורים‬.

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suggestions, including a rooster, as well as the species mentioned at the beginning of the piyyuṭ—turtledoves and pigeons (Streptopelia) — ‫ּובנֵ י יֹונִ ים‬ ְ ‫ּתֹורים‬. ִ In fact, the Talmud identifies “fattened fowl” as fattened hens, considered the most superb among the fowl.39 Thus, the “fattened fowl” in the piyyuṭ for Ḥanukkah presumably refers to any fowl of delicacy. Another liturgical text mentions the “swans” and “fattened fowl”—the hymn for Shabbat, Mah Yedidut Menuḥatekh (lit. “How Beloved is Your Rest”) by an unknown Menaḥem, as per the acrostic in the piyyuṭ.40 Its refrain lists various viands namely “swans, quails, and fish,” and the second stanza mentions, among other Shabbat specialties, “fattened roosters,” a term often used simply to say chicken. The two piyyuṭim, the one for Shabbat and the other for Shabbat of Ḥanukkah, devote at least part of the text to the joy of eating the specialties of the day. The hymns resemble each other in their wording, especially in their reference to the “swans”. Visually responding to both texts, the artist aptly added two small birds’ heads entwined around the left leg of the letter ‫ א‬at the beginning of the initial word, providing another reference to the theme. In all probability, while setting out to illustrate the Ḥanukkah meal, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany recalled the famous Shabbat piyyuṭ whose content is so similar to the one recited on Ḥanukkah. The refrain of the Shabbat hymn may also explain the inclusion of a fish bowl at the front of the table in the Ḥanukkah meal on fol. 31v. Fish do not appear in the text of the piyyuṭ for Ḥanukkah but are mentioned in the refrain of the one for Shabbat, which refers explicitly to “swans, quails and fish” as the delicacies of the day. Wine, on the other hand, features in the piyyuṭ for Shabbat of Ḥanukkah and was therefore included in the illustration. The cooling tub shows two vessels, denoting the wine that was traditionally diluted with water—hence the two different pitchers.41 The tall green glass beaker on the table starkly contrasts with the precious wine goblets, depicted in other contexts throughout the manuscript. The scene shows a simpler vessel made of “forest glass” (Waldglas in German). This type of tall cylindrical footed beaker, the Stangenglas (lit. from German: “pole-glass”) was characteristic of the Gothic period.42 A specific variant of these beakers is the prunted beaker, known as Nuppenglasbecher, Noppenglas

39 Bava Metzia 86b. See also Yalquṭ Shim'oni to I Kgs §176, s.v. ‫ ויהי לחם‬and Rashi to I Kgs 5:3, s.v. ‫וברבורים אבוסים‬. The image, however, does not allow for a specific identification of the fowl. 40 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 3, no. 373, 86. 41 See the discussion on the cooling tub and consumption of wine on 231–235. 42 See discussion on Waldglas above, 141, n. 246. On the history of glass production in Germany in the Middle Ages, see Franz Rademacher, Die Deutschen Gläser des Mittelalters (Berlin: Verlag für Kunstwissenschaft, 1933).

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 277

or Warzenglas on account of the prunts on its lower stem, intended to secure the drinker’s grip with his or her often greasy hands.43 This type of post-glass became popular in the second half of the fourteenth century in Bohemia, and gradually spread west to the Germanic areas and the Low Countries in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It was used for alcoholic beverages, especially beer.44 The specific glass from which it was made determined its cost: clear glasses of the “Venetian style”, sometimes incised or partly painted, were more valuable and aristocratic than those made of the Waldglas (see Figure 110).

Figure 110: Stangenglas, Germany, mid-sixteenth century [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of  Art, acc. no. 27.185.203 (Munsey Fund, 1927)]

The inclusion of the Stangenglas in the Ḥanukkah-feast scene could be an insinuation that wine is not necessarily the required beverage for the meal, and that

43 The prunts are small glass ornaments attached by fusing to a glass. Beyond serving as embellishments, the prunts or glass threads helped secure the holder’s grip and prevented the glass from slipping down when held with soiled hands. 44 The tall cylindrical beer glass was also known as “Krautstrunk” (cabbage stalk).

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beer is equally acceptable.45 Alternatively, the artist may have merely wished to highlight the lesser sanctity of Ḥanukkah compared to that of Shabbat and other festivals, in which the consumption of wine is recommended, as it is on other occasions of a se'udat miẓvah. The Ḥanukkah banquet is therefore less splendid, accounting for the use of more ordinary tableware in general, including the green Stangenglas.

45 See earlier discussion on the permitted beverages—ḥamar medinah—over which the kiddush may be recited on 262.

Chapter 9  Getting Married in Ashkenaz Entourage of the Bride and the Groom The Jewish lifecycle in the Nuremberg Miscellany is only partially represented. The sequence of rites of passage commences with the wedding, continues with birth and circumcision, and concludes with the unique baby-naming ceremony known as “Hollekreisch”.1 Other important Jewish life cycle events are conspicuously missing, such as the Redemption of the Firstborn (Pidyon haBen), which is closely connected to the other two birth-related events described in the manuscript, as well as death and mourning. A relatively lengthy description of the wedding ceremony, its rites and customs, appears on fols. 33v-36v. Similarly, the visual corpus devoted to marriage in the manuscript is fairly extensive as well and consists of three illustrations and four marginalia. The illustrations show the entourage of the bride and the bridegroom as they approach one another before the wedding, the wedding ceremony under the canopy, and the festive dance and merriment in honour of the bridal couple. In the margin, accompanying the text of the first blessing of the ritual that is recited over wine, the artist inserted an ink-drawn hand holding a large golden goblet (fol. 33v). In addition, beside the discourse on the reasons for placing the wedding ring on the bride’s index finger, a hand with its index finger outstretched is pointing to the text. Another hand, also executed in ink, appears further down in the text, marking the beginning of various topics pertaining to the rituals of the event. Like on many other occasions throughout the manuscript, the artist wished to highlight these exegetical issues in the secondary text, as he did in the third (painted) marginal illustration on fol. 36v, just above the wedding scene. The Torah gives very little instruction on the process of marriage.2 Rulings on finding a spouse, reaching an agreement between the parties, the betrothal, 1 Rites of passage are the English equivalent of the original term “rites de passage,” coined by the French ethnographer and folklorist Arnold van Gennep (1873–1957) in his best-known book, Les rites de passage; étude systématique des rites de la porte et du seuil, de l’hospitalité, de l’adoption, de la grossesse et de l’accouchement, de la naissance, de l’enfance, de la puberté, de l’initiation, de l’ordination, du couronnement des fiançailles et du mariage, des funérailles, des saisons, etc. (Paris: É. Nourry, 1909). Rites of passage, as described by van Gennep, are rituals or ceremonies to mark a person’s milestone transition from one status in life to another. See the English translation of his study: The Rites of Passage, trans. Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). 2 Some details can be surmised, for example, from Gen 24; Gen 25:1; Deut 24:1, and other places. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-010

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the wedding ceremony, and the nature of the marital relationship first appear in the Mishnah, then in the Talmud, and subsequently in medieval rabbinic texts.3 The rabbinic concept of marriage prescribes a two-stage process: betrothal and wedding. Betrothal, or erusin (‫רּוסין‬ ִ ‫)א‬, ֵ is also known as kiddushin (‫ּדּוׁשין‬ ִ ‫)ק‬, ִ literally meaning “sanctification” or “setting apart.”4 Through kiddushin, a man sanctifies and designates a woman to be his wife.5 Legally, this was the actual marriage, reversible only by death or divorce. The wedding, or nisu’in (‫ּׂשּואין‬ ִ ִ‫)נ‬,6 completed and sealed the process. In the past, as much as a year could lapse between the kiddushin and the nisu’in. During that time, the husband would prepare a home for his bride and the prospected new family. By the high Middle Ages, the two events followed one another as part of the same celebration, yet each part of the ceremony retained its specific benedictions. Marriages in Early Modern Germany often brought together under the same canopy—and under the same roof—a bride and a bridegroom from different domiciles. In most of those cases, it was the bride who left her home to join her future husband. Prior to the wedding, she would arrive in the groom’s hometown with an entourage. He and his companions would come out to greet them, escorting the bride for the rest of the journey. In the manuscript, the bifolio illustration occupying the bottom part of fols. 33v-34r shows the encounter of both parties approaching each other, each arriving in a horse-drawn carriage (see Figure 111).7

3 Wedding customs in the biblical era are the topic of the PhD dissertation of Christian Stubbe, University of Jena, later published as a book titled Ehe im alten Testament (Jena: H. Dabis, 1886). On marriage in the ancient Jewish world, see Jacob Neubauer, Beiträge zur Geschichte des biblisch-talmudischen Eheschliessungsrechts: eine rechtsvergleichend-historische Studie (Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatischen Gesellschaft, 24.–25. Jg., 1919–1920) (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1920), and, more recently, Michael. L. Satlow, Jewish Marriage in Antiquity (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2001). For visual representations, see Joseph Gutmann, “Wedding Customs and Ceremonies in Art,” in: The Jewish Marriage Anthology, ed. Philip and Hanna Goodman (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1965), 175–183, 347–350 (reprprinted in Beauty in Holiness; Studies in Jewish Customs and Ceremonial Art, edited by idem, New York: Ktav, 1970), 313−325. 4 In Latin, desponsatio. 5 Cf., in the Roman culture, Karen K. Hersch, The Roman Wedding: Ritual and Meaning in Antiquity (Cambridge / New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 140, especially n. 20. 6 Known as traditio puellae in Latin. 7 A similar setting, also in two parts on facing pages, albeit on horseback and on foot and without carriages, is found in a festival prayer book with other miscellaneous works, made in Reggio Emilia in 1466, London, The British Library, MS. Harley 5686, fol. 27v. A detail is reproduced in Metzger, Jewish Life, 229, illus. 343, and discussion on 240. The authors read the image(s) as the ceremony of the ushering in of Shabbat, for which they provide no support. This identification is refuted on textual grounds by Horowitz, “The Way We Were,” 79–80.

Entourage of the Bride and the Groom 

 281

Figure 111: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 33v-34r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The bride’s journey was not a prosaic, technical matter of transportation, or even a symbolic act denoting a rite of passage, but rather the actual launching of the wedding procedure, known as hakhnasat kallah (lit. “bringing-in [of] the bride”).8 It begins with the bride’s journey from her hometown to her new dwelling, followed by the procession ushering her to the wedding ceremony. While in the first stage she travelled in a litter or a carriage, the parade to the ḥuppah or wedding canopy was often a pageant in which she was escorted by a procession of her relatives and friends, along with entertainers and musicians who marched through the streets. A baraita quotes R. Ele'azar, who expounded on the verse from Michah 6:8, . . . and this is the import of what R. Ele'azar said, What is the implication of the text, “It has been told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord does require of you: Only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” “To do justly” means [to act in accordance with] justice; “to love mercy” refers to acts of loving kindness; and to “walk 8 The history of the custom is discussed by Shmuel Glick, “Le-Gilgula shel Miẓvat Hakhnasat Kalla” (“The History of the Miẓvah of Hakhnasat Kallah”), Sinai 128 (2001): 112–123 (Hebrew).

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humbly with your God” refers to attending funerals and dowering a bride for her wedding, or hakhnasat kallah.9

This ruling emphasises the great importance ascribed to escorting the bride to the wedding canopy in festivity and merrymaking. This custom evolved from a passage in the extra-canonical small tractate Semaḥot—a compilation of texts of mishnahic origin, where it is said that two circumstances may lead to abstaining from studying the Torah: “Our Rabbis taught: The study of the Torah may be suspended for escorting a dead body to the burying place and a bride to the canopy.”10 As in many other cultures, the Jewish marriage customs highlight the bride’s transition from her nuclear family to her newly adopted—and embracing—family. Among many acts symbolising that important transition is the domum deductio, the bridal procession taking her to her new home, known from as far back as the Greek and Roman cultures.11 Once the negotiations between the two parties have been concluded with an oral agreement or a written contract in the private realm, now comes the time for a public proclamation of the union. The domum deductio targeted that objective.12 It is a rite of passage in the most literal sense. Beyond the transition of the Jewish bride from one family to another through marriage, the customs linked to her change of locus offered an opportunity for the community to witness the legal status of bride-to-be also according to the halakhic rulings. The equivalent Roman custom served a similar purpose: “The publicity of the deductio stood as the proof that the wedding had taken place,” says Karen K. Hersch. Moreover, she continues, “the Roman wedding procession displayed, to all who cared to view it, the wealth and importance of the families of the bride and groom. The community, although sometimes a nameless throng, was an integral part of the Roman wedding.”13 The publicity of the nuptials played a significant role also among Christian communities in Germany in the Early modern period – the backdrop of the Nuremberg Miscellany. As Lyndal Roper put it in her study of weddings in Refor-

9 BT Sukkah 49b. See also Megillah 29a; Makkot 24a. 10 Semaḥot 11, §7. The tractate’s name is a euphemism, literally meaning “Joyous Occasions”, “Rejoicings”, although it is dedicated to matters of mourning. It is divided into Evel Rabbati and Evel Zuta. 11 Hersch, Roman Wedding, 140–148, delineates the bride’s journey to her husband’s home and the processions that form part of it. Her account allows for interesting parallels to the customs of the Jewish wedding. 12 Some observances on this matter have been made by Ernst S. Dick, “The Bridesman in the Indo-European Tradition: Ritual and Myth in Marriage Ceremonies,” The Journal of American Folklore 79, no. 312 (1966): 338–347. 13 Hersch, Roman Wedding, 141.

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 283

mation Augsburg, “Dance, feasting and procession were rituals as integral to the creation of a new, socially recognized marriage as were the vows exchanged at the church door.”14 In that, the private event and its public declamation blurred, as it were, the two socio-religious domains. Because of the legal importance of the public bridal procession in Judaism, the bride’s appearance played an essential role in many ways. Hence the detailed rules for her coiffure, which determined and visually demonstrated her prenuptial status, differentiating between a virgin bride and a married, divorced, or widowed woman. The Talmud refers to the bride’s hairdo and head covering as a reflection of her marital status on her wedding day.15 Thus, wearing her hair loose adorned with a special wreath, diadem, or coronet declared her virginity. When married as a virgin, she was entitled to a higher compensation promised in the marriage contract (ketubbah)16 for the case of dissolution of the marriage, whether by death or divorce, to be paid by her husband or his estate. On the other hand, a bride wearing a head covering proclaimed the fact of her having been married before, and would therefore be entitled only to half the remuneration agreed upon in her contract.17 The Mishnah states that, A woman, who becoming widowed or divorced, asserts, “As a virgin I was married,” while he [the husband, or his heir] asserts, “No! As a widow thou wast married,” [in her case]

14 Lyndal Roper, “Going to Church and Street: Weddings in Reformation Augsburg,” Past & Present 106, Issue 1 (February 1985): 62. 15 To be exact, this refers to the day she left her father’s home to be married. See further Elimelech (Melech) Westreich, “The Legal Status of the Wife in Ashkenazi Jewish Legal Tradition: Continuity and Change in the Sixteenth Century,” Early Modern Workshop: Jewish History Resources: Law: Continuity and Change in the Early Modern Period 5 (2008), 1–45. The author highlights some transitions in the legal status of the wife vis-à-vis her husband that grant her more civil and legal protection within the Jewish domain, which exceed the scope of this study. See a discussion on the bride’s coiffure in medieval Ashkenaz and its implications in Avital Davidovich-Eshed, “On Brides and Braids: Bride’s Hair and Virginity in Ashkenazi Wedding Customs,” Zmanim: A Historical Quarterly 118 (Spring 2012): 50–61 (Hebrew). The author further highlights the symbolism of the loose hair in the Greco-Roman and Christian cultures. 16 The ketubbah is a pre-nuptial agreement that outlines the rights and responsibilities of the groom vis-à-vis his bride. According to BT Shabbat 14b, it was instituted by Simeon b. Shetach. 17 According to M Ketubbot 1:2, “[If the person espoused is] a virgin, her ketubbah is two hundred dinar; [if] a widow, [it is] a maneh,” namely—half the sum. Cf. BT Ketubbot 16a. See Gerhard Langer, “Zum Vermögensrecht von Frauen in der Ehe am Beispiel des Mischnah- und Tosefta-Traktates Ketubbot,” Kairos: Zeitschrift für Judaistik und Religionswissenschaft 34–35 (1992–1993): 27–63. See also, from a different angle, Ruth Langer, “The ‘Birkat Betulin’: A Study of Jewish Celebration of Bridal Virginity,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 61 (1995): 54–94.

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should there be evidence to prove that she went [to be married] in a hinnuma’ (veil) and with her hair flowing, her ketubbah is two hundred dinar . . .18

While technically similar, the bridal passage to the groom’s domain and the groom’s journey to welcome his bride and her retinue have very different legal implications. The groom either travelled to escort his bride from her parents’ home to his, or welcomed her near his home at the end of the bridal voyage. The former tradition is reminiscent of the poetic description of Solomon being carried around in the streets of Zion as a bridegroom with a wreath on his head, admired by the maidens of Jerusalem19: King Solomon made himself a palanquin of the wood of Lebanon. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the top thereof of gold, the seat of it of purple, the inside thereof being inlaid with love, from the daughters of Jerusalem. Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, even upon the crown wherewith his mother has crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.20

The Bible mentions the bridal procession in Psalms 45:11–18, relating the procession of a princess about to be wed with a Davidic king.21 A later vivid description is found, for example, in I Maccabees 9:39: After this came word to Jonathan and Simeon his brother that the children of Jambri made a great marriage, and were bringing the bride from Nadabatha with a great train, as being the daughter of one of the great princes of Canaan . . . Where they lifted up their eyes, and looked, and, behold, there was much ado and great carriage: and the bridegroom came forth, and his friends and brethren, to meet them with drums, and instruments of music, and many weapons.22

18 M Ketubbot 2:1. 19 Song 3:9–11. 20 See, however, the reservations of this description being a represention of realia by Cheryl J. Exum, “Seeing Solomon’s Palanquin (Song 3:6–11),” Biblical Interpretation: A Journal of Contemporary Approaches 11, nos. 3–4 (2003): 301–316, especially 305–306. Viewed from a Christian point of view, this passage was interpreted as relating to Jesus and Mary, who was seen as mater Salmonis, as shown by Sarit Shalev-Eyni, “Iconography of Love: Illustrations of Bride and Bridegroom in Ashkenazi Prayerbooks of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century,” Studies in Iconography 26 (2005): 37−39. 21 As the verses of the Psalm may be reflecting a non-specific description, offering no identification of the bridal couple, some scholars claim that the bride is a princess from Tyre, while others maintain that the description is of the marriage of Solomon with Pharaoh’s daughter. 22 A similar custom is recorded in Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Yitro §283, s.v. ‫ויוצא משה את‬. Compare the brief comment in Rashi to Exod 19:17, s.v. ‫לקראת‬.

Entourage of the Bride and the Groom 

 285

The bridal palanquin, ‫א ִּפ ְריֹון‬, ַ was a well-known terminus technicus already 23 in the talmudic era. It appears in a text concerned with me’un (Heb. ‫מאּון‬, ֵ “refusal”), namely a legal process which empowers an underage, fatherless girl, who is about to be married off by her mother or brothers, to reject her designated husband. Under specific circumstances, she could assert her refusal with a beit din (halakhic tribunal), which would annul the arrangement requiring a bill of divorce. She may even express her refusal as late as when she is sitting in her palanquin on her way to her new home. Thus is it described in the Talmud: Our Rabbis taught: What is regarded as me’un? If she said, “I do not want So-and-so as my husband,” or “I do not want the betrothal which my mother or my brothers have arranged for me.” R. Judah said even more than this: Even if, sitting in the bridal palanquin, and being carried from her father’s house to the home of her husband, she said, “I do not want So-and-so as my husband,” her statement is regarded as a declaration of refusal.24

Elsewhere, the Talmud throws light on the importance of the bridal palanquin from an entirely different angle, as the means by which the bride transported her dowry from her father’s house to her new home.25 Another Talmudic reference states: “During the latest war they decreed that a bride should not go out in a palanquin in the midst of the city,26 but our rabbis decreed that a bride may go out in a palanquin in the midst of the city,” due to a change of circumstances. Referring to the Hebrew word ‫א ִּפ ְריֹון‬, ַ 27 Rashi elaborates that they used to transport the bride from her father’s home to her husband’s house in a palanquin behung with curtains, tapestries, or gilded coverlets.28 Reflecting continuity of the ancient tradition down to the Early Modern period, the Nuremberg Miscellany shows the bridegroom riding in a carriage with a coronet on his head (see Figure 112). Inspired by the Song of Songs, the

23 According to Hersch, Roman Wedding, 142, the Greeks used carriages for this purpose, but probably not the Romans. 24 BT Yevamot 108a. See also Rashi ad loc. 25 BT Ketubbot 47a. 26 M Soṭa 9:14 and, in an expanded deliberation, BT Soṭa 49a. The expression “the latest war” is presumably an allusion to the last uprising against the Romans under Bar Kokhba in 135 CE. 27 The word ‫‘( ַא ִּפ ְריֹון‬Apiriyon, Heb. for palanquin) probably derives from the Greek φορεῖον. 28 Rashi to BT Soṭa 49a.

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Figure 112: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 33v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

midrash states that all bridegrooms are like kings,29 as portrayed in the coronet of the groom in the manuscript. Beside him sits a bearded man, presumably his father. The bridegroom’s carriage is an open coach, a state-of-the-art vehicle that came into use in the sixteenth century, with a system of springs that was introduced to improve the travelling experience.30 Its rounded partial top is an evolution that dates back to the Middle Ages. The open carriage indicates that the groom is taking a relatively short trip, since a longer trip would necessitate a fully covered vehicle. A king sitting in a similar carriage features as the main theme of the “One-of-Bells” playing card from a series designed by Hans Leonhard Schäufelein and printed in Nuremberg by Wolfgang Rösch in 1535 (see Figure 113).31

29 Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, Ḥorev, chap. 16, s.v. ‫על שלשה דברים‬. See also Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Judg §70, s.v. ‫ ;וירד שמשון אל‬as well as in the Responsa of Mahari Bruna §93, s.v. ‫ושוב שמעתי‬. 30 For further reading on cart history, see László Tarr, The History of the Carriage, trans. from Hungarian by Elisabeth Hoch (New York: Arco Publication Company, 1969). 31 The card—in fact, the entire series—is reproduced in Hoffmann, Spielkarten, no. 55d, 95, and catalogue entry on 182–184.

Entourage of the Bride and the Groom 

 287

Figure 113: Hans Leonhard Schäufelein, ‘One-of-Bells,’ Nuremberg: Wolfgang Rösch, 1535 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, GNM Sp. 7074–7120]

Apparently, several types of coaches and carriages were used concurrently, representing different social ranks and usages. For example, the depiction of the wedding procession of Emperor Leopold I and Claudia Felicitas of Tirol in Graz in 1673 includes a variety of such vehicles which, in their pomp, represent status symbols.32 In the Middle Ages, carriages were largely used by royalty, aristocracy, and other affluent members of society. These carriages often featured four wheels and were pulled by two to four horses, depending on the number of passengers, the weight of the transported goods, and the weight and lavishness of their decoration that might call for additional horsepower.33 In the Nuremberg Miscellany, the bride is sitting in a magnificent enclosed coach which is similar in form to the earlier sedan chair. Her large coach is drawn 32 See Bernward Deneke, Hochzeit (Bibliothek des Germanischen Nationalmuseum zur deutschen Kunst- und Kulturgeschichte) (Munich: Prestel, 1971), no. 46, 59. 33 Coaches originate from the town of Kocsi, Hungary, where they appeared for the first time in the mid-sixteenth century. They soon gave the name to a new type of vehicle for fast travel throughout Europe. In the late sixteenth century, the coach’s body structure was ultimately changed from a round-top to the “four-poster” carriage that eventually became standard.

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by only one horse mounted by a rider, unlike the two horses in the entourage of her bridegroom. This may be an indication that it is in fact a coach, a lighter vehicle, which replaced the heavy traditional carriages requiring at least two horses, perhaps also attesting to the short distance she needed to travel (see Figure 114).

Figure 114: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The bride is seen through the closed cabin window, sitting apparently by herself, dressed in exquisite attire. Like the bridegroom, she is wearing a coronet, placed over a hairnet set like a cushion headdress, as part of her special wedding coiffure.34 The bride’s hair arranged in a net stands in contrast to the virgin’s common attribute of the flowing hair. It is possible that in the late sixteenth century, this was considered a normative headgear for unmarried women, reflecting fashion and status, as can be seen in the portraits of the young daughters of Graf von Rietberg of 1564 (Figure 118). Through the encounter between the two parties, the artist illustrated both custom and reality. He depicted the bride’s journey as she and her belongings leave her father’s home. Her new life is about to begin when she ceases to stand under his patronage and becomes part of a new family.35 Moreover, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany portrayed the bride and groom meticulously, includ34 A similar hairnet adorns the head of the woman shown on fol. 19r of Simeon haLevi Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh (Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593), showing the preparations for Passover. 35 The same situation prevailed also in the Christian society in Central Europe, according to Ruth Schmidt-Wiegand, “Hochzeit, Vertragsehe und Ehevertrag in Mitteleuropa,” in Die Braut. Geliebt  – verkauft  – getauscht  – geraubt. Zur Rolle der Frau im Kulturvergleich (Ethnologica, n.F., Bd.11), ed. Giesela Völger and Karin v. Welck (Cologne: Rautenstrauch-Joest-Museum, 1985), Bd. 1, 266.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 289

ing their attire, headgear, and carriages. These serve as references to their dignified social status and wealth—iconographic devices used in numerous other instances throughout the manuscript, thus relating the Nuremberg Miscellany, its patron, and its recipient to the contemporary Jewish elite.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy At the bottom of fol. 34v, an illustration shows the bride and the groom standing under the bridal canopy, flanked by an officiator (or rabbi)36 on the right and a lutenist on the left (see Figure 115). This is the second, and thematically the most significant, visual rendering of the wedding cycle in the Nuremberg Miscellany. It depicts the climax of the nuptials from the religious point of view, when the bridal couple officially becomes husband and wife.

Figure 115: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

36 In the seconday text on fol. 34v of the manuscript, the officiator is called ‫—מ ָב ֵרְך‬the ְ one who pronounces the benedictions.

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The illustration shows the bride standing under the canopy on the left from the spectator’s perspective, that is, on the right of the groom.37 This particular mise-enscène has ancient roots, founded on Psalm 45:10, “Kings’ daughters are among your favourites; at your right hand stands the queen in gold from Ophir.” Like the groom, who is considered as a king on his wedding day, Jewish lore likens any bride to a queen. Consequently, she must be “staged” appropriately to the right of her bridegroom-king. The literary reference for this custom is inscribed in the secondary text on fol. 33v. Poetic descriptions such as the quote from Psalms notwithstanding, the relative position of the bride and groom in the wedding ceremony was not formalised in biblical, rabbinic, or even medieval times. R. Simḥa of Vitry, a pupil and later colleague of Rashi, does not mention it in the description of marriage rites in his Maḥzor Vitry. R. Zalman of St. Goar, synagogue beadle in Mainz and assistant to the local rabbi and head of the yeshivah Jacob b. Moses Möllin (ca. 1365–1424, also known as Maharil), provides one of the earliest detailed descriptions  of a wedding ceremony. In his book of customs, Minhagei Maharil, R. Zalman describes a wedding officiated by Maharil at the Worms synagogue. The bride and groom, he says, stand on the bimah at the centre of the synagogue hall facing south, while Maharil recites the Betrothal Benedictions and the Seven Benedictions (Sheva' Berakhot) of the wedding facing east.38 Concluding the recitation of these blessings, he turns to face the couple, holds a wine glass to the groom’s lips and then to the lips of the bride. Thereupon he hands the glass to the groom, who turns northwards and casts it against the wall.39 Despite this meticulous portrayal of the wedding ceremony, though, Maharil’s assistant does not specify the respective positioning of the bride and bridegroom under the canopy. Among other stipulations, Maharil—according to R. Zalman—draws a spatial distinction between a first-time wedding, held inside the synagogue, and that of a divorcee or a widow, held in the synagogue’s courtyard, in the open.40 Another

37 In his study, Max Katten is taking this custom beyond the realm of biblical tradition, linking the positioning of the bride to the right of the bridegroom also to the folk rite of the “Brautraub.” See Max Katten, “Die jüdische Hochzeit. Eine folkloristische Betrachtung,” Bayerische Israelitische Gemeindezeitung 24 (1934), 524. 38 The Seven Benedictions are are the wedding blessings, recited under the canopy for the bridal couple. They are recorded for the first time in BT Ketubot 7b-8a, although they are presumably older. 39 Jacob b. Moses Möllin, Sefer Maharil, Rulings for the Wedding, fol. 83r. On the significance of the north with regards to breaking the glass at weddings and its relation to medieval Christian marriage rituals, see Naomi Feuchtwanger, “Interrelations between the Jewish and Christian Marriage Customs in Medieval Ashkenaz,” Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, D2: Art, Folklore, Theatre, Music (Jerusalem: World Congress of Jewish Studies, 1986), 33. See further Eugen Fehrle, Deutsche Hochzeitsbräuche (Jena: Diederichs, 1934), 15–16. 40 Sefer Maharil, loc. cit.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 291

possible venue for the marriage ceremony was the communal “wedding house,” mentioned already in the Talmud.41 In medieval and Early Modern Ashkenaz, though, the so-called Brauthaus or Tanzhaus (or even Spielhaus) was usually the location of the wedding party rather than of the actual religious ceremony.42 The Second Nuremberg Haggadah (Germany, ca. 1470) illustrates a wedding with similar iconography to that of the Miscellany of more than a century later.43 Here, too, the officiator and a lutenist to their left and a female figure—perhaps the bride’s mother—to their right, flank the bridal couple. The artist drew this scene on a blank parchment background, with no architectural detail or any other clue to the location of the event. The Yahuda Haggadah, in fact a “sister” to the Second Nuremberg Haggadah, has similar features (see Figure 116).44

Figure 116: Yahuda Haggadah, [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Judaica Department 180/50; B55.01.0109] (Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama)

41 BT Megillah 5b and BT Ta'anit 14b. 42 The dance house was an important venue that served the Jewish community on various public and private occasions. See Zvi Friedhaber, “The Tanzhaus in the Life of Ashkenazi Jewry during the Middle Ages,” Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Folklore 10 (1988): 49–60 (Hebrew). See also idem, “Dance in Judaism in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,” Proceedings of an International Seminar on Physical Education and Sports in the Jewish History and Culture, edited by Uriel Simri (Netanya: Wingate Institute for Physical Education and Sport, 1981), mainly 47–48. 43 Formerly in Jerusalem, Schocken Institute Library, ms. 24087, fol. 12v. The Haggadah is currently in the collection of David Sofer, London. See Naomi Feuchtwanger, “The Coronation of the Virgin and of the Bride,” Jewish Art 12–13 (1986–1987): 221 (detail), and in colour in Metzger, Jewish Life, 230, fig. 344 (detail). 44 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Judaica Department 180/50; B55.01.0109, fol. 11v. The image here shows a group of three entertainers.

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As is the case with all the illustrations in the Nuremberg Miscellany, here, too, on fol. 34v, the background is the neutral parchment, and the wedding scene lacks any clear contextual indication as to whether it takes place inside a given venue or outdoors. The bridal couple stands on an intriguing green patch that is hardly suggestive of any unequivocal setting. The lower part of the ground between the poles of the canopy spread over the heads of the bride and the groom is coloured in green, evoking grass or other vegetation. Yet that same area also bears a diagonal hatched pattern that does not easily comply with such an identification, but may alternatively denote a tiled floor. The confusion is increased by the fact that the rest of the plane in which the scene is occurring, outside the perimeters of the canopy, shows no hint suggestive of either greenery or a floor. The low stool on which the lutenist stands may provide a possible hint, as a stool would stand more steadily on a hard surface, supporting the tiled floor option in an interior space. Notwithstanding the hatching of the green patch, the artist seems to have played a visual pun, insinuating a garden that is allegorically associated with the “bride” in the Song of Songs. In that sense, it stands for what Sarit Shalev-Eyni describes as an “amorous atmosphere of the scene” that prevails in some Medieval Ashkenazi Maḥzorim and prayer books.45 By the sixteenth century, setting up the wedding canopy in the open had become common practice. R. Moses Isserles (1520–1572), the eminent Ashkenazi Talmudist and authority on minhag, favoured holding wedding ceremonies under the open sky “as a good omen,” so that the offspring of the bridal couple be as numerous as the stars in heaven.46 This preference is visually corroborated in Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh. One of its woodcut illustrations shows a wedding celebration held under the cloudy sky (see Figure 117).47

45 Such as in 4:12, “a garden locked is my sister, my bride”, or 5:1, “I came to my garden, my sister, my bride.” Cf. Sarit Shalev Eyni, “Iconography of Love,” 40. 46 Even ha'Ezer, 61. 47 Fol. 75r.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 293

Figure 117: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 75r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

Further evidence for the prevalence of outdoor wedding ceremonies in the Early Modern period comes from the writings of the Christian Hebraist, theologian, and Orientalist Johannes Buxtorf the Elder (1564–1629). Buxtorf, the first professor of Hebrew Studies at the University of Basel, wrote a comprehensive treatise on Jewish rites and rituals, Synagoga Iudaica (German title: Juden Schul), first published in Basel in 1603.48 The English edition (London, 1657)49 reads: “That their 48 Johannes Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudaica: das ist Jüden Schul darinnen der gantz Jüdische Glaub und Glaubensubung . . . gegeben . . . (Basel: S. Henricpetri, 1603). 49 Johannes Buxtorf and A. B., The Jewish Synagogue, or An historical narration of the state of the Jewes: at this day dispersed over the face of the whole earth . . . London: Printed by T. Roycroft for H. R. and Thomas Young, 1657. The 1663 later edition, by the same publisher, is identical in pagination to the earlier one, and in that sense is merely a reprint. Its bibliographic details are: Johann Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, or An historical narration Of the State of the Jewes, At this day dispersed over the face of the whole Earrh (!), in which their Religion, Education, Manners, Sects, Death and Burial are fully delivered, and that out of their own Writers. Translated out of the Learned Buxtorfius, Professor of the Hebrew in Basil, and diligently compared with the Talmud and other Writers, out of which it had its Original. Also furnished with divers Marginal Notes,

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marriage or coupling together is celebrated abroad in open aire without covert, the reason is because they ought to multiply even as the stars of heaven for multitude.”50 Earlier in the text, Buxtorf deals with the four-post canopy—the ḥuppah— placed above the bridal couple, The time being come when the blessing due unto the married couple to be given unto them, foure boyes take the Canopie which is fastened to foure posts and wooden pillars, and carry it into the street or garden where the solemnity is to be kept: whither the bridegroom comes, being attended with many man following him at his heels. After him followes the bride and her damsels, with sackbuts, timbrels, and other musical instruments, seating herself by her spouse under the Canopie. This Canopie they call by the name of Chuppah which signifies a cover or shelter.51

The Talmud discusses canopies that existed in the Garden of Eden. It says, in the name of R. Ḥama b. Ḥanina, “The Holy One, blessed be He, made ten canopies for Adam in the Garden of Eden, but Mar Zuṭra says: Eleven.”52 A little later, it says, albeit without any allusion to weddings: “This teaches us that the Holy One, blessed be He, will make for everyone a canopy corresponding to his rank.” A thirteenth-century teaching by R. Asher b. Yehi’el (a.k.a. Asheri or Rosh, of Germany and Spain, ca. 1250–1328), follows earlier midrashim, and transposes this exegesis to the context of nuptials, stating that God made seven wedding canopies for Adam and Eve.53 He is thereby equating the Seven Benedictions

very profitable and necessary. By A.B. M.A. of Q. Col. in Oxford. London, Printed by T. Roycroft for H. R. and T. Young at the Three Pigeons in St. Paul’s Church-year. Anno Dom. 1663. 50 Ibid., 293. Buxtorf’s German text, Synagoga Iudaica, 582, reads: “. . . daβ sie under dem offnen Himmel die Eynsegnung halten/ ist ein zeichen/ daβ sie sich sollen vermehren/ wie die Sternen am Himmel . . .” As is often the case with translated texts, in some places, the translataion slightly deviates from the original. 51 Ibid., 291. Translated from Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudaica, 578–589: “Wen die offentliche Eynsegnung geschehē soll/ so tragē vier junge Knaben ein Hiṁel oder Decke an vier Stangen angemacht/ an dz ort/ da die Eynsegnung geschehē soll/ an die Gasse oder in ein Gartē und dem blossen Himmel/ folget der Breutigam mit etlich Måṅern/ uṅ die Braut mit den Weibern hernach/ mit Lauten und anderm Seitenspiel/ unter denselben Hiṁel (Sie nennen es Chuppah ein Decke) . . .” The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, though, chose an abbreviated depiction of the scene and refrained from showing the four boys holding the posts. 52 BT Bava Batra 75a. 53 Leviticus Rabbah, section 20, s.v. ‫ד´א אחרי‬, maintains that there were thirteen canopies, as does Ecclesiastes Rabbah, section 8, s.v. ‫ד´א מי‬, while other sources present different numeric traditions.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 295

recited as part of the wedding ceremony and the primeval canopies in the Garden of Eden.54 This idea was later repeated by numerous rabbinic authorities, including the Kol Bo—an anonymous fourteenth-century compendium clearly influenced by the earlier ‘Orḥot Ḥayyim by Asher b. Yehi’el on this and other issues.55 The green patch on which the bridal couple stands in the Nuremberg Miscellany may be the artist’s way of implying exactly this tradition, alluding to the canopies erected in the greenery of the Garden of Eden, the hatched imprint on it notwithstanding. Examination of the secondary text on fol. 34v supports this hypothesis. Reflecting on the creation of Eve out of Adam’s rib, the compiler of the text draws a parallel between two words from the same tri-consonantal root, .‫ע‬.‫ל‬.‫—ק‬rib (‫יע ָתא‬ ֲ ‫ ְק ִל‬in Aramaic) and braiding (‫יעה‬ ָ ‫ ְק ִל‬in Hebrew) of the bride’s hair before the wedding.56 In a somewhat convoluted interpretation, he then explains that the origin of the custom is in a midrash stating that God “braided” Eve’s rib and thus presented her to Adam,57 evidently in the Garden of Eden. It is plausible that the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany deliberately combined the two interpretations—the earthly and the heavenly. He therefore included a green patch in the illustration alluding to the Garden of Eden and shaped it like a tiled floor that simulates the synagogue courtyard.58 Thus, symbolically, his image shows a “marriage made in Heaven.” As befitting a king, the groom is clad in all his finery, which includes notably a white ruffled collar and a Shabbat cloak, reserved for festive occasions. Later, the 1767 Fürth Jewish community customal book, for example, stipulated that On the day of the sivlonot (exchange of bridal gifts) and when he goes to the synagogue for minḥah (the afternoon services), the bridegroom wears his fine clothes including a white collar (Yiddish ‫[ )לבן קראגן‬but] without the Shabbat cloak, as he does when he goes

54 R. Asher b. Yehi’el, Orḥot Ḥayyim, Rulings for Kiddushin §21, s.v. ‫ולברכת נישואין‬. 55 Kol Bo §75. 56 See BT Berakhot 61a. 57 Ecclesiastes Rabbah, section 7:2, s.v. ‫אמר רבי‬. This tradition was known also to the anonymous author of Yalquṭ Shim'oni, as proven by the repeated reference to this midrash, in a lengthy or abbreviated version, for example in his exegesis to Gen §20, §23; or Ps §702. 58 Although the artist could have simply indicated the tiled floor by drawing it in ink and leaving the background bare, adding the green tint clarifies this detail.

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to the Meien.59 When he goes to the wedding canopy (ḥuppah), however, he also wears his Shabbat cloak (Yiddish ‫)מנדיל‬.60

The bride, too, wears an extravagant attire. Buxtorf describes her apparel and the preparations for her procession in the public realm, from her home to the synagogue, as follows: Upon the day whereon the Bride is to be led into the Synagogue to receive a blessing, she puts on her wedding garments, decking, trimming, and dressing herself in the Jewish fashion, as finely as she can possibly: She being ready dressed, she is led along by her Maids and Damosels, who sing Marriage Songs and Bridal Ballads, bringing into a certain chamber or closet, and placing her in a rich and costly Chair, where they comb her head, truss up her locks, deck her with Fillets, adorn her with Ribbands, beautifie her with Garlands, put a veil over her face, and that for modesties sake, as Rebeckah did when she was to meet her husband Isaac.61

The illustration of the bride on fol. 34v of the manuscript includes some of these elements and trinkets, mainly the hairstyle but not the veil. She is shown wearing

59 The Meien is described by Maharil in his Sefer Maharil, Rulings of Marriage, fol. 82v. See also Roqeaḥ §352–353. The term “Meien” seems to be of early origin. Its etymology and, in fact, its performance, differed from one community to the other. R. Moshe Mintz (a.k.a. Maharam Mintz, ca. 1415–1480), who served in Mainz, Landau, and Bamberg, and finally moved to Posen, relates in his Responsa that in the morning the bridal couple and their entourage go to the synagogue accompanied by musicians and torchbearers for the Meien, which is celebrated according to the local custom. See Moses ben Isaac Mintz, She'elot u-teshuvot Rabenu Mosheh Mints [Maharam Mints], ed. Yonatan Sheraga Domb (Jerusalem: Mif'al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 5751/1991), §109 (Hebrew). In the seventeenth century, R. Yuzpi, the synagogue beadle from Worms, describes the custom in further detail in his Book of Customs, including a description of the dress code of the bridal couple and that of the bride’s two escorts. He further draws the distinction between the celebration of the Meien for a virgin, who is being wed for the first time, and a widow (or divorcee). His account of the ceremony is found in Jousep Schammes, Minhagim deḲ.Ḳ. Ṿermayśa le-Rabi Yozepa Shamesh, mofi'a la-rishonah bi-shelemut mi-kitve ha-yad shel ha-meḥaber: kolel hashlamot ṿe-hagahot me-Rabenu Ya’ir Ḥayim Bakharakh; im meḳorot, be’urim u-fetiḥah kelalit al yede Binyamin Shelomoh Hamburger; hakhanat ṭeḳsṭ u-mavo hisṭori al yede Yitsḥaḳ Zimer (Jerusalem: Mif'al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 1988), part 2, §231 (Hebrew). 60 Sefer Minhagim deQehillatenu Yz’u. Minhagei Kol haShanah deQ’Q Fiorda (Fürth: Ḥayyim ben Ẓvi Hirsch, 5527/1767; reprint, 1973), fol. 17b (Hebrew). 61 Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 289. Idem, Synagoga Iudaica, 575–576: “Am tag/ wenn sie soll eyngesegnet werden/ legt sie ihre Hochzeitliche Kleider an/ unnd muβet sich auffs schỏnest nach jůdischer weise: wird darnach auch von den Weibern in ein besonder Gemach gefůhrt/ die singen liebliche Hochzeitlieder vor ir her/ setzen sie auff einen schỏnen Såssel, strålen ihr das Haar/ machen ihr schỏne Flåchten oder Zỏpffe/ setzen ihr schỏne Hauben auff/ und machē ihr den Schlåyer fůr die augen/ daβ sie den Breutigam nit ansehen soll/ von Zucht unnd Schamm wegen/ wie Rebecca auch gethan hat/ da ihren der Breutigam entgegē kommen ist.”

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 297

a hairnet or netted snood under a coronet. Its patrician splendour, suggestive of nobility, is reminiscent of the details in the depiction of Ermengard and Walburg von Rietberg, daughters of the Graf Johann II of Rietberg, in a 1564 family portrait by Hermann tom Ring (1521–97) (see Figure 118).62

Figure 118: Hermann tom Ring, Family Portrait of John II of Rietberg, Germany, 1564 [Münster, LWL-Myseym für Kunst und Kultur (Westfälisches Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte, Inv. No. 993 LM, 1022 LM, 1941 LM]

Setting crowns on the heads of the Jewish bridal couple dates back to biblical times. Song of Songs 3:11 reads: “Go forth, O daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon, with the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, on the day of the gladness of his heart.” While this text refers to crowning of the bridegroom, and perhaps does not reflect historical truth,63 bridal crowns are mentioned in other biblical passages, such as in Ezekiel 16:8–14. Dealing with the beautification of Israel, the bride of God, the accoutrements are listed in detail: When I passed by you again and looked upon you, behold, you were at the age for love . . . yea, I plighted my troth to you and entered into a covenant with you, says the Lord God, and you became mine . . . I clothed you also with embroidered cloth and shod you with leather, I swathed you in fine linen and covered you with silk. And I decked you with ornaments, and put bracelets on your arms, and a chain on your neck. And I put a ring on your nose, and earrings in your ears, and a beautiful crown upon your head.

62 Münster, Westfälisches Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte, Inv. No. 993 LM, 1022 LM, 1941 LM. 63 The varied readings spanning generations of the Song of Songs as an allegory for the love between God and His people, exceeds our scope. See, however, the references brought by Sara Offenberg, “Staging the Blindfold Bride,” 291, n. 15.

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The right to wear expensive fabrics, furs, and jewellery in Christian Europe was sometimes restricted by sumptuary laws or a princely command. Similar limitations existed also in the Jewish world, albeit for different reasons. Aimed at controlling individual expenditures on food and clothing, sumptuary laws existed as early as Jewish Antiquity, in the first centuries of the Common Era. These laws were usually a measure taken by the community to promote social equality, but at times responded to specific historical occurrences. The Mishnah describes several early wedding customs that were abolished in order to avoid the display of riches at times of national distress. For example, During the war of Vespasian the use of crowns by bridegrooms and the beating of the drum [at weddings] were forbidden; during the War of Titus the crowns of brides . . . were forbidden; during the last war (i.e., the Bar Kokhba revolt) it was decreed that the bride should not be carried throughout the city in a palanquin [hung with curtains]; but our masters (R. Judah the Patriarch and his school) permitted it.64

Discontinued during the Roman occupation of the Land of Israel, the Jewish custom of crowning the bridal couple was resumed sometime in medieval Ashkenaz under unknown circumstances, possibly following similar customs in the non-Jewish society. At medieval Christian weddings, brides wore crowns as a symbol of their virginity.65 An Early Modern visual depiction of this custom

64 M Soṭah 9:9. Different views are expressed in BT Soṭah 49b. One teacher claims that the bridegroom’s crown is forbidden only when made in the old style of rock salt and brimstone, but permits a wreath of myrtles and roses. Another sage prohibits even such a wreath, but allows one made of canes and reeds. A third teacher bans even this. The bride’s crown is explained as a golden image of a city wall. See above 224–225, n. 7. The use of the palanquin in which the bride was taken to and from the wedding is said to have been reintroduced from motives of modesty, to guard against the gaze of the crowd. 65 Otto Lauffer, “Jungfraukranz und Brautkrone,” in Zeitschrift für Volkskunde 40 (N.F., Band II) ed. Fritz Boehm (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1931), 25–29. See also Otto Bramm, “Deutsche Brautkränze und Brautkronen. Ein Beitrag zu ihrer Typologie und der Symbolik ihres Schmuckes,” Jahrbuch für historische Volkskunde, Bd. 3/4: Die Sachgüter der deutschen Volkskunde, ed. Oswald A. Erich (Berlin: Herbert Stubenrauch Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1934), 163–185; as well as idem, “Brautkranz, Brautkrone,” Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte, ed. Otto Schmitt et al., (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1937), Bd. 2, 1948, Sp. 1125–1130. For a more specific geographic realm, see M. Bringemeier, “Brautkronen im Münsterland,” Rheinisch-Westfälische Zeitschrift für Volkskunde 14 (1967): 73–78. The nomenclature of bridal crowns in the German vernacular is discussed from a historical perspective by Adolf Spamer, ed., Die Deutsche Volkskunde, (Berlin: Herbert Stubenrauch Verlagsbuchhandlung AG; Leipzig: Bibliographisches Institut AG., 1935), 2. Bd., 73. The author mentions also crowns worn by the bridesmaids as symbols of their virginity, and relates a common distinction between the coiffure of the bride, whose hair is knotted into one braid, and her maidens who all wear two braids.

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in a 1506 miniature from the life of Mary, probably by a Heidelberg Master, shows a crowned groom placing a ring on the index finger of a crowned bride.66 Another Christian illustration of coronets adorning both bride and groom is included in the Commentary on the Song of Songs by Stefano Tagliaci, Venice 1510, currently in the Biblioteca Marciana in Venice.67 It shows an allegorical wedding between the “sponsvs” and the “sponsa,” labelled with a caption below the woodcut illustration and complemented by another inscription equating the figures with “christvs” and “ecclesia.” Notably, the bridegroom is also haloed. The same holds true for a series of woodcuts by Jost Amman (1539–1591),68 included in Hans Weigel’s Trachtenbuch,69 published in Nuremberg in 1577.70 Among other images, they portray brides and bridegrooms and their consorts in their festive attire, wearing various types of crowns, coronets, wreaths, or diadems on their heads. Woodcut VII, entitled SPONSVS PATRICIVS Norimbergensis, for example, shows a patrician groom, a floral wreath set on his head, led to church by two men of the upper class (see Figure 119).

66 See Hans Rott and Gustav Rommel. Quellen und Forschungen zur südwestesdeutschen und schweizerischen Kunstgeschichte im XV. und XVI. Jahrhundert, 3: Der Oberrhein Text (Stuttgart: Strecker und Schröder, 1938), 15, Fig. 9. 67 Max Engammare, “Das Blockbuch ‘Canticum canticorum’—die erste Serie von Abbildungen des Hohenliedes,” in Schneider, Blockbücher des Mittelalters, 323, fig. XIII.4. Compare ShalevEyni, “Iconography of Love”, especially 31–38. 68 On the artist, see mainly Andreas Andresen, Jost Amman, 1539–1591; Graphiker und Buchillustrator der Renaissance, Beschreibender Katalog seiner Holzschnitte, Radierungen und der von ihm illustrierten Bücher. Mit einer biographischen Skizze und mit Registern seines Werkes und der Autoren illustrierten Bücher (Amsterdam: G. W. Hissink, 1973 [(© 1864]). 69 On the genre of costume books against the backdrop of interest in the “other” in the Renaissance, see Leonie von Wilckens, “Das ‘historische’ Kostüm im 16. Jahrhundert. Spiegel des historischen Begreifens”, Waffen- und Kostümkunde 3, 1961, 28–46. A detailed history of printed costume books is found in Isabel Kuhl, “Cesare Vecellios Habiti antichi et moderni: Ein Kostüm-Fachbuch des 16. Jahrhunderts”, PhD Diss., (University of Cologne, 2008), especially 33–47. 70 The full title is Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm, Tam Virorvm, Qvam foeminarum Singulari arte depicti. Trachtenbuch: Darin fast allerley vnd der fürnembsten Nationen, die heutigs tags bekandt sein, Kleidungen, beyde wie es bey Manns vnd Weibspersonen gebreuchlich, mit allem vleiß abgerissen sein, sehr lustig vnd kurtz-weilig zusehen [mit Holzschnitten nach Zeichnungen Jost Ammans geschnitten von Hans Weigel] (Nuremberg: Hans Weigel, 1577).

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Figure 119: Jost Amman, “SPONSVS PATRICIVS Norimbergensis”, in: Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm . . ., Nuremberg: Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut VII (Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 40 Lr 157/1]

In other woodcuts, Amman depicted brides with magnificent coronets as part of their garb. Virgins or brides are systematically depicted with an entirely different headgear than those of married women and those who have previously been married. Depending on their status and place of origin, they all share the iconographic features befitting their virginity. In the accompanying inscriptions, a distinction is made between brides of different social strata as in woodcut IX captioned SPONSA PATRICIA NVRENBERGENSIS QUAE a duobus Senatoribus junioribus in templum deducitur (see Figure 120), and woodcut XXII, showing the MEDIOCRIS CONDITIONIS SPONSA, wearing only a modest wreath.

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Figure 120: Jost Amman, “SPONSA PATRICIA NVRENBERGENSIS”, in: Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm . . ., Nuremberg: Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut IX (Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 40 Lr 157/1]

For our discussion, however, woodcut XII in the Trachtenbuch is of the utmost importance, along with its title and inscriptions (see Figure 121). Above the figure on the left is the inscription SPONSAE PATRICIAE ORNATVS, quando ad choreas ducuntur, while the woman on the right is identified as VIRGINIS ILLAM COMItantis ornatus.71

71 See also, a similar image of a “Sposa ornata di Norimberga” from 1590, taken from Cesare Vecellios, Habiti antichi et moderni, Venice: Damiano Zenaro, 1590, (fol. 307v), reproduced in Kuhl, Cesare Vecellios, Abbildungen: Abb. 12.

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Figure 121: Jost Amman, “SPONSAE PATRICIAE OR. natus”, in Hans Weigel, in: Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm . . ., Nuremberg: Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut XII (Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 40 Lr 157/1]

The above-mentioned Mishnah (Soṭah 9:14) laconically states that the custom of wedding crowns was banned during the days of Vespasian and Titus, respectively. Several centuries later, the sages of the Talmud were no longer familiar with this custom and sought to explain it. It took still more generations for an interpretation of this short mishnahic passage to be provided. The date and circumstances in which donning a crown of sorts in the Jewish wedding, either only by the bride or by the bridegroom as well, is unclear. Centuries after it had been abolished, it surfaced again in Ashkenaz at the latest in the eleventh century in Rashi’s commentary to a passage in the Babylonian Talmud that refers to the mishnahic prohibition against donning crowns in weddings.72 According to Rashi, “They were accustomed to make crowns for bridegrooms of gold and silver, decorated with niello.”73 Moreover, he states that it was customary for brides to go forth from their parents’ homes to be wed wearing a crown over their loose hair. In fact, the crown and the loose hair were both attributes of the

72 Gittin 7:a. A detailed discussion of the custom is in Feuchtwanger, “ Coronation,”: 213–224. 73 Commentary to Gittin 7:a.

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bride’s marital status—a virgin—prior to her nuptials, a distinction that had legalfinancial ramifications in case the wedding ended through divorce or death.74 This latter passage in Rashi seems to be visually reflected in a marriage contract from Krems from 1391–1392 (see Figure 122).75 It is the only illuminated ketubbah that has come down to us from this cultural-geographic area.76 The bridegroom is shown here donning a pointed Jewish hat, handing over a large wedding ring to his bride, who is wearing her hair down and adorned with an elaborate coronet.77

Figure 122: Ketubbah, Krems, 1391/2 [Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. hebr. Ms. 218] 74 See above chapter, “Entourage of the Bride and the Groom,” 282–283. 75 Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. hebr. Ms. 218. 76 Shalom Sabar has shown that, in many cases, the ketubah decorations were imbued with magical-apotropaic charges. See Shalom Sabar, “Words, Images, and Magic: The Protection of the Bride and Bridegroom in Jewish Marriage Contracts,” in Jewish Studies at the Crossroads of History and Anthropology: Authority, Diaspora, Tradition, ed. Raanan S. Boustan, et al. (Philadelphia: Penn Press, 2011), 102–132, 361−365, especially 110−131. Being the only known illustrated example from Ashkenaz, this statement can hardly be applicable here. 77 Ido Noy, “The Fleuron Crown of Mrs. Zemah Daughter of Rabbi Aaron: Concepts of Royalty, Nobility and Virginity among Ashkenazi Brides in the Late Middle Ages,” Chidushim, Studies in the History of German and Central European Jewry 12 (2019), 83−112 (Hebrew). In his article, Noy takes the ketubbah from Krems as a point of departure for an extensive discussion on the exposure to and use of fleuron coronets by the Ashkenazi Jews in the Middle Ages.

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Although Rashi’s text provides no proof of the custom being practised again already in his days, a group of prayer books for the festivals—maḥzorim—penned and illustrated in Ashkenaz from the mid-thirteenth to the late fourteenth century testify to an established custom whose roots may have been much earlier. In an illustration appended to a hymn that is recited as part of the ritual of the Shabbat preceding Passover, a man and a woman are often shown seated side-by-side. The hymn, composed in the eleventh century by Benjamin b. Zeraḥ,78 is founded on the verse from Song of Songs 4:8, beginning with the words ‫ִא ִּתי ִמ ְּל ָבנֹון ַּכ ָּלה‬ (“Come with me from Lebanon, my bride”). Following the traditional exegesis to this phrase as an allegoric love song between God and his chosen people, the artists of these manuscripts depicted the women as brides, with crowns, coronets, diadems, and other headgear on their heads. Most of the prayer books of this group are decorated with a similar iconography, which calls to mind depictions of the Coronation of the Virgin—a well-known theme in Christian imagery from the Romanesque period onwards.79 One of them, the Leipzig Maḥzor from Southern Germany, dated to about 1310, shows the bridegroom on the right with a pointed Jewish hat, while the bride is portrayed on the left (and to his right) with a coronet on her head (see Figure 123).80 Evidently, the crown, the coronet, or the wreath served as iconographic attributes for a virgin also in Jewish art, as did the long loose hair.

78 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, 403, no. 8821. The biography of the author of the piyyuṭ is debated among scholars. See Shalev-Eyni, “Iconography of Love,” 49, n. 3. 79 This iconography became widespread in this period as part of the Marian adoration. See examples in Feuchtwanger, “Coronation,” 213 and n. 1 there. 80 Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/I, fol. 64v. The manuscript and its background have been researched by Katrin Kogman-Appel, “Der Leipziger Machsor und die jüdische Gemeinde von Worms,” in Die SchUM-Gemeinden Speyer – Worms – Mainz; auf dem Weg zum Welterbe. Herausgegeben von der Generaldirektion Kulturelles Erbe Rheinland-Pfalz, ed. Pia Heberer and Ursula Reuter (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2013) 207−220.

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Figure 123: Leipzig Maḥzor, Southern Germany, 14c., fol. 64v [Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/I]

It seems safe to infer that in the Middle Ages, Christian brides, perhaps also grooms, were wedded with crowns, wreaths, diadems, or other types of head decoration. For example, a close look at the painting “Peasant Wedding” by Pieter Brueghel the Elder of around 1567 shows at the centre the seated bride wearing a wreath, while another one is suspended from atop, against the hanging fabric. Here, the bride‘s hair is left loose (see Figure 124).81

81 Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv.No. GG_1027.

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Figure 124: Pieter Brueghel the Elder, “Peasant Wedding,” ca. 1567 (detail) [Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv. No. GG_1027]

Apparently, the crown, the loose hair and virginity connect to a local Germanic celebration of the First of May. On that day, the most beautiful of the village virgins was chosen as the local queen. Later on, after the recognition of Mary as Mater Domini had been established, the day was dedicated to the cult of Mary, the epitome virgin.82 Hence the general preference of performing weddings in May in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period. The crown adorning the Virgin Mary has ultimately become an attribute of virginity in general. As such it was employed, among other iconographic usages, in portrayals of the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins.83 The brides, all virgins, are typically shown holding torches in their hands with their loose hair held by a wreath. This theme became especially popular in northern church transepts, as in the Cathe-

82 Herbert Thurston, “Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 15 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912), http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15459a. htm (accessed March 17, 2020). 83 Matt 25:1–13.

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dral of Magdeburg,84 or the northern, so called Jungfrauenportal (Virgin Portal) of the Cathedral of St Mary at Erfurt, created around 1330 (see Figure 125a-b).85

(a)

(b)

Figure 125a-b: Erfurt, Cathedral of St Mary, Jungfrauenportal (Virgin Portal), ca. 1300 (details). Shutterstock Royalty-free stock photo ID: 203187625/203187649, by Anton Ivanov

The loose hair, often coupled with the crown, was further employed by many artists to distinguish, at the scene of the Visitation, between Mary the virgin and Elisabeth, already the mother of John. Furthermore, from the etchings of Jost Amman, mentioned earlier, it is clear that these were not only symbolically adapted for religious art but were representational of daily life. In the etchings he made for the famous Trachtenbuch by Hans Weigel, virgins or brides are systematically depicted with an entirely different headgear than those of women who have previously been married. Similarly, the bridegroom is portrayed being led to his wedding with a wreath on his head, as are the bride and her maids. One is, of course, tempted to compare Amman’s representation with the bride in the wedding scene in the Second Nuremberg Haggadah from Germany, dated ca. 1470—just about the time in which Amman made his etchings.

84 The sculptures and their symbolism are discussed by Jacqueline E. Jung, “Dynamic Bodies and the Beholder’s Share: The Wise and Foolish Virgins of Magdeburg Cathedral,” in Bild und Körper im Spätmittelalter, ed. Kristin Marek et al. (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 2006), 135–160; and more recently, idem, “Die Klugen und Törichten Jungfrauen am Nordquerhaus des Magdeburger Doms und ihre Stelle in der Geschichte der europäischen Kunst,” in Der Magdeburger Dom im europäischen Kontext, ed. Wolfgang Schenkluhn and Andreas Waschbüsch (Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner, 2011), 197–212. 85 Frank Matthias Kammel, Kunst in Erfurt 1300–1360. Studien zur Skulptur und Tafelmalerei (Berlin: Lukas Verlag, 2000), 74−80, and figs. 7, 19−20. The parable figures and the adjacent sculptures of Synagoga and Ecclesia are compared with similar depictions in other contemporary church portals.

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Similar to Christian iconography, the Jewish typology for a virgin went beyond the context of marriage, and, in fact, emanated from the common ancient attribute for a virgin in general, or the astrological symbol Virgo. Thus, the symbol for the month of Elul, the Virgo, is portrayed accordingly in Jewish Antiquity, such as in the floor mosaic of the fourth-century synagogue of Hammat Tiberias or in the Beth Alfa synagogue floor mosaic of the sixth century.86 This tradition became part and parcel of Jewish iconography, mainly in the Ashkenazi cultural realm. In the group of manuscripts from medieval Germany discussed above, the special Blessing for Rain and the Prayer for Dew recited on the first day of Passover are embellished with the signs of the zodiac and the labours of the months. The Worms Maḥzor (see Figure 126) and the Dresden Maḥzor, to mention but two,87 carry the depiction of the Virgo for the month of Elul with the same iconography as in the synagogue of Hammat Tiberias and elsewhere in the ancient Jewish world many centuries earlier.

Figure 126: Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 96v (detail) [Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, Ms. Heb. 4°781/1]

86 See 208, n. 147. 87 On the role of the zodiac signs in medieval Ashkenazi prayer books, see Shalev-Eyni, “Cosmological Calendar.” Unlike most other depictions for Virgo, the female figure representing this zodiac sign in the Oppenheim Maḥzor, Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford Opp. 161, fol. 84r, is wearing a hairnet on her head. See ibid., 10, fig. 4.

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It is therefore clear that in both the Christian and Jewish worlds virginity had to be seen. That this had more than physiological implications is clear, at least in the Jewish realm, determining the dowry to be paid as compensation by the bridegroom, respective of his bride’s having been previously married or not. Breaking the glass marks the culmination of Jewish weddings. In most Jewish communities, the bridegroom smashes a glass by stepping on it.88 However, the Jews in western Ashkenaz, specifically along the Rhine and the Main rivers, followed a different local custom. As mentioned earlier, it is told of a wedding in the synagogue of Worms in which Maharil officiated, where the bridegroom dashed the betrothal glass against the synagogue wall at the conclusion of the ceremony. After the wedding moved from the synagogue hall to its courtyard, these communities adopted the custom of casting the glass against the synagogue’s exterior wall, next to which the ḥuppah stood. Later, a special stone was designated for that rite, aptly named Ḥuppahstein (ḥuppah stone), Hochzeitsstein (wedding stone), Traustein or Ehestein (marriage stone) (see Figure 127).89 Paradoxically, through this deed, shattering of the glass denotes the union of the epoused and the breakage is followed by a benediction, as befitting the exclamation of good wishes to the couple that is uttered immediately after this particular moment— “mazal ṭov”!

88 The Jews of Portuguese origin for example, dashed the glass onto a silver tray placed on the floor. See Feuchtwanger, “Interrelations,” 31. 89 Of the numerous studies dedicated to this ceremony, see a small selection (in alphabetical order): Israel Abrahams, Jewish Life in the Middle Ages (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1993 [©1896]), 177–210; Feuchtwanger, “Interrelations,”; Jacob Zallel Lauterbach, “The Ceremony of Breaking a Glass at Weddings,” Hebrew Union College Annual 2 (1925): 351–380; J. Motschmann, “‘Masel Tow.’ Zur Bedeutung des Hochzietssteins an der Synagoge von Altenkundstadt,” Von Main zum Jura 3 (1985): 51–57; and Falk Wiesemann, “‘Masal tow’ für Braut und Bräutigam. Der Davidstern auf Hochzeitssteinen,” in Der Davidstern. Zeichen der Schmach— Symbol der Hoffnung. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Juden, ed. Wolf Stegmann and S. Johanna Eichmann (Dorsten: Dokumentationszentrum für Jüdische Geschichte und Religion, 1991), 86– 91. ‬See also idem, “Jüdische Hochzeitssteine – Zum Funktionswandel des Synagogenbaus vom 18. zum 19. Jahrhundert in Süddeutschland”, Frankenland. Zeitschrift für fränkische Landeskunde und Kulturpflege 60 (2008), 236–251.

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Figure 127: Heinsheim Synagogue: Marriage Stone, 1796

The practice of breaking the glass in Talmudic times is attested to in two parallel accounts. One describes how Mar, son of Ravina, was so displeased with the boisterous joy of the guests at his son’s wedding ceremony that he took an expensive glass and shattered it so as to shock them, thus engendering sobriety and decorum. The other source tells a similar story about the wedding of R. Ashi’s son, relating an equally strange course of events.90 The Talmud does not indicate the origin or significance of this custom, nor does it describe it as a mandatory component of the ceremony. It is curious to note the absence of disapproval of the waste of the glasses in compliance with the prohibition against senseless damage.91 Moreover, the admonition of “excessive joy” seems peculiar and without proper context, particularly at a wedding feast. Finally, it is hard to see why destroying a precious object belonging to the host would temper the gaiety of the wedding guests. These bizarre Talmudic passages did not draw much attention from early commentators such as Rashi, with the exception of R. Eli'ezer b. Nathan of Mainz (Ra‘aven), who wrote, I wonder if for this [reason] the early sages decreed to break a glass at the wedding, for what sadness is there in [breaking] something worth only a p’ruṭah (i.e., a coin of minimal

90 BT Berakhot 30b–31a. 91 The prohibition, called ‫בל תשחית‬, is based on Deut 19:19−20. See also BT Shabbat,129a.

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value). Moreover, I also wonder why they were of the custom to disgrace the cup [used] for benediction and pour it all to waste.92

While Ra’aven does not accept the seemingly wasteful Talmudic smashing of the glass, his comment may perhaps suggest that he was familiar with the ancient custom, although he does not mention it explicitly and is persistently using the past tense. It is therefore not clear whether he is referring to a contemporary practice with which he is familiar in his cultural milieu or beyond, or theoretically questioning an ancient custom. Only two generations later, in the twelfth–thirteenth century, the Tosafists added in a brief gloss to the Talmudic passage, stating: ‫כּוכית‬ ִ ְ‫ִמ ָּכאן נָ ֲהגּו ְל ַׁש ֵּבר ז‬ ‫ּׂשּואין‬ ִ ִ‫ּבנ‬, ְ “Hence they became accustomed to break [a] glass at weddings.”93 The Tosafists were familiar with the writings of R. Simḥa of Vitry expressed in his Maḥzor Vitry in the late eleventh century. The author states that after drinking the first glass of wine, the bridegroom “fills it again and recites the Seven Benedictions over it, drinks it and offers a drink [of it to the bride], empties it and casts it against the wall and breaks it” at the conclusion of the ceremony.94 It seems that the custom, first recorded by Simḥa of Vitry in the eleventh century and hinted to by Ra’aven slightly later, seems to have already become common practice in the days of the Tosafists.95 The unique manner of performing the ritual of breaking the glass features also in the wedding customs described verbally in the Nuremberg Miscellany (see Figure 128). The secondary text following the Seventh Benediction (fol. 35v) describes how the groom smashes the glass “against the wall or where it is customary to break [it].” This phrasing suggests that the groom aimed at a specifically designated and demarcated spot for casting the glass and shattering it, at least in the religious-cultural area of the compiler of the manuscript and his patron. This is, in fact, the earliest known indication of a prescribed place for performing this deed, probabaly alluding to a special stone embedded in the synagogue wall (see Figure 1).

92 Even ha'Ezer (Prague: Moshe Katz, 1610), fol. 44v, §167. See also R. Ele'azar of Worms, Sefer haRoqeaḥ (Cremona: Vincenzo Conti, 1557), §353, fol. 64r. 93 Tosafot to BT Berakhot 31a, s.v. ‫אייתי כסא דזוגיתא חיורתא‬. 94 Maḥzor Vitry §470, s.v. ‫אחד מן‬, ed. Horowitz, p. 589. 95 On the similarity between the Jewish custom and the Germanic “Polterabend” and its performance of breaking dishes, see Feuchtwanger, “Interrelations,” 35.

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Figure 128: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The consolidation of the custom of breaking the glass against the synagogue wall was surely a process and its implementation was not uniform all over Ashkenaz. There is even evidence that both casting the glass against the wall and smashing it on the ground were accepted in the late sixteenth century, as reported by Johannes Buxtorf, “. . . als denn wirfft der Breutigam das erste Glas an ein Wand/ oder wider die Erde/ daß es zerbricht/ zu, gedechtnuß zeichen des zerstỏrten Tempels zu Jerusalem.”96 The difference between the two customs is clarified in Simeon haLevi Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh, printed in Venice in 1593 as an unattributed quote: ‫אין עטליֿכן קהילות ווארֿפט דער חתן דז גלאז אן דיא וואנט ווען עש איין בתולה איז אונ' צו איינר אלמנה ווארֿפט עש ווידר דיא ערד‬

The author asserts that in some communities the glass is cast against the wall when the bride is a virgin, whereas if she is a widow, the vessel is dashed onto the earth.97 The English version of Buxtorf’s book, Jewish Synagogue, however, mentions only the custom of breaking the glass against the wall as the sole option. The difference between the two texts may be the result of the fact that while the German edition appeared already in 1603, the English edition was printed in London as late as 1657. As stated in its title page, the book was, “translated out of the learned Buxtorfius . . . by A.B., Mr. A. of Q. Col. in Oxford,” who probably also edited and re-worked it. According to this version, after drinking the first cup, In the next place, he (the Rabbi) takes a glass of wine, which they call (the bride-boule) blesseth it, giving thanks unto God that the Bride and the Bridegroom by his instinct, have given their consent to be joined together in the bond of matrimony, and reaching out the Cup unto them, commands them to drink thereof. If the Bride be a virgin, then the cup must have narrow mouth, if a widow a large one, at Wormes they use an earthen cup, as

96 Johannes Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudaica, 601–602. 97 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 76r.

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also in other places . . . Then reaching them the Cup and bidding them drink thereof, which when they have done accordingly, the Bridegroom takes the Cup and throws it against the wall in remembrance of the ruinated temple of Jerusalem.98

It seems, therefore, safe to assume that by the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, the custom of breaking the glass against the synagogue wall was already well established. At the same time, the designation of a specific stone against which it should be cast was becoming commonplace. Two points that remain obscure are the time and the reason for the transition of the wedding ceremony in Ashkenaz from the synagogue interior to the courtyard.99 In order to reconstruct this process, it might prove useful to examine the history of marriage in Christian Europe. Outdoor ceremonies have been common in Christian traditions for centuries. After numerous attempts to impart a religious character to weddings, which used to be a private secular affair, the 1215 Fourth Lateran Council ruled that the civil part of the ceremony be held in the presence of a priest, in facie ecclesia (lit. “in the face of the church”).100 An illustration of this practice can be seen, for example, in the wooden panel by an artist from the region of Lake Constance in Southern Germany around 1400–1410. It shows the marriage of Mary and Joseph with the two of them kneeling at the church portal with a priest standing between them.101 The “Brautmesse” or Wedding Mass following this part of the ceremony then takes place inside the church – a distinction that still prevailed in some Christian communities well into the Early Modern era. Initially, the wedding was celebrated in front of the church, literally following the canon. Later, a special entrance was instituted in the northern transept of the church for use in weddings, which came to be known in Germany as Brauttür (“bridal door”), Brauttor (“bridal gate”), Ehetür (“wedding/marriage door”), or Brautportal (“bridal portal”).102 The idea behind it was to allow for an uninter-

98 Ibid., 292. 99 An interesting point to consider that lies beyond the scope of this current study has to do with the ancient Germanic marriage ceremony, which was celebrated out of doors under the sky. See Franz Falk, Die Ehe am Ausgang des Mittelalters (Freiburg: Herder, 1908), 3f. 100 Ottfried Jordahn, “Wedding Ceremony,” in The Encyclopedia of Christianity, ed. Erwin Fahlbusch and Geoffrey William Bromiley (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmann / Leiden: Brill, 2008), vol. 5, 725–726. 101 Reproduced in Feuchtwanger, “Coronation,” 215, fig. 4. 102 See Friedrich Zoepfl, “Brauttüre,” in Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte Bd. 2, 1948, Sp. 1134–1138. Although particularly favoured, the location of the special bridal portal in the north was not universal. In some churches it was a later introduction into the church structure, or the result of changes that took place in the edifice for various reasons. See, for example, the historical analysis of the Martinskirche in Neckartailfingen and its bridal portal by Günter Eckstein and Andreas Stiene, “Die Martinskirche in Neckartailfingen – ein Gotteshaus in Bewegung

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rupted routine in the church order while, at the same time, enabling the wedding celebration to be performed at a different part of the church complex. The bridal portal soon acquired a distinct iconographic scheme, including depictions such as the parable of the wise and the foolish virgins,103 of the first couple, Adam and Eve,104 or scenes related to the Virgin Mary. The tympanum of the bridal portal in the St. Andreas Parish Church in Weißenburg (Bavaria), for example, incorporates two Marian scenes as a backdrop for wedding ceremonies: the Coronation and the Dormition of the Virgin (see Figure 129).

Figure 129: Weißenburg (Bavaria), Germany, St. Andreas Parish Church, bride portal, typmpanum, 1425

Some medieval synagogues, too, may have had a special entryway for weddings, which provided direct access from the prayer-hall to the community hall. It served

Messtechnische Dokumentation und Verformungsanalyse,” Denkmalpflege in Baden-Württemberg 39, no. 2 (2010) 99−106 and fig. 4. 103 Matt 25:1–13. 104 Such as in the late medieval churches in Bamberg (Obere Pfarrkirche), Bayreuth (including the Brautgasse), Braunschweig (St. Martin), Friedberg i. Oberhessen, Kaufbeuren (St. Martin), Mainz (St. Quintin), Munich (Frauenkirche), Nuremberg (St. Lorenz and St. Sebald), Rothenburg o. d. T. (St. Jakob), Ulm, and other places. See, Zoepfl, “Brauttüre,” Sp. 1137–1138.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

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for both public and private celebrations and was often called “Wedding House” or “Dance House” (Tanzhaus). After the ceremony in the synagogue, the bridegroom, escorted by the male guests, would go to the Tanzhaus, where the festive meal and the merriment were to take place in the company of the bride and the female invitees. Our knowledge regarding Jewish wedding portals is very limited. One such door reportedly existed in the synagogue of Worms, as noted in the customal book of Yuzpi (also spelled Juspa, 1603–1678), the local synagogue beadle. Yuzpi relates that the bridegroom entered the synagogue through this so-called “bridegroom door (lit. aperture)” (‫)ּפ ַתח ֶה ָח ָתן‬ ֶ on his wedding day. He then used it again at the termination of the ceremony on his way to the community wedding hall (or “Breithoiz”, ‫ברייט הויז‬, as Yuzpi calls it).105 The author does not specify the location of this door, but from the ground plan and history of the synagogue complex, it is clear that it could not have been in the northern wall. The construction of a Women’s Synagogue (Frauenschul) perpendicular to the Men’s Synagogue in the north (ca. 1212–1213) left room only for the main portal for entering the synagogue. Instead, the special marriage door was opened in the southern synagogue wall of the men’s prayer hall and is known to have still been in use in the nineteenth century.106 In many cases, Jewish marriage stones were embedded in the northern wall of the synagogue. This preference reflects a popular belief that evil spirits “reside” in the north.107 It was probably further strengthened by the Christian custom that evolved in the thirteenth century, of holding the civil part of the wedding at the northern transept of the church, as described earlier. In smaller, mainly rural Jewish communities, however, due to the reduced size of the synagogue, the construction of an additional portal in the preferred northern wall was not always feasible and wedding ceremonies were held in front of the single entrance. In such cases, the Hochzeitsstein or marriage stone was often installed in the north-eastern corner buttress, in the entrance wall or, more frequently—as the keystone of the entrance portal (see Figure 127). Similarly, in provincial churches, 105 Fol. 61a. See Shlomo Eidelberg, R. Juspa, Shammash of Warmaisa (Worms): Jewish Life in 17th Century Worms (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1991), 188, and op. cit., 31 (Hebrew). The Brauthaus seems to have been used also in other Jewish communities in Ashkenaz, such as Ulm. See Lehnertz, “Katavti al ha-Tsetel”, 6–7. 106 Otto Böcher, Die alte Synagoge in Worms am Rhein (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1963), 6–8, and ground plan on the back cover of the brochure. 107 This notion is founded on the verse in Jer 1:14, “Then the Lord said to me, ‘Out of the north evil shall break forth . . .’”. See further, Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, 3. See also Pesiqta Rabbati (ed. Friedman), 188, and other sources cited by Lauterbach, “Breaking a Glass,” 369, and n. 31 there.

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there was no specially designated Brauttür in small churches and the wedding took place by the single entryway. The change in the location of the Jewish wedding ceremony may have been the result of a transformation of rites of passage from a private event, observed within the family fold, to a public affair, celebrated among the community.108 Thus, all the participants in the ceremony could witness the ritual with all its details, explicitly noting the external appearance of the bride as indicators of her status on the day of her nuptials, such as her hairdo or the shape and material of the vessel broken on that occasion.109 The customal book Minhagei Maharil draws a distinction between the wedding of a virgin marrying for the first time, and that of a previously married woman. In the case of a virgin, he maintains, the jar or vial that is broken during the ceremony is made of glass and shaped with a thin mouth to symbolise her virginity, whereas for a widow or a divorcee, the ceremonious “breaking the glass” a wide-mouthed clay dish is used. The substance of the receptacle has acquired special importance as legal evidence for the event of a terminated marriage, in case of doubt.110 Jewish law protects women by requiring the husband or his estate to pay compensation to the divorcee or the widow in the case of annulment of the marriage or the husband’s death, so as to ensure her daily needs. This amount is double for a woman in her first marriage than that for one who was married before. The particulars of the vessel that had been broken in the ceremony are visual confirmations of the status of the bride prior to her nuptials, by which not only those present, but also latecomers to the wedding or even passers-by can testify, if necessary, to the status of the bride. Hence, beyond the coiffure, the crown, and the bridal veil (hinnuma’), the dish broken during the wedding was considered as legal evidence. Already the Talmud underlines the importance of clarifying a woman’s status on her wedding, and the way in which this could be verified in public in case of contention. In other words, if there is an eyewitness for at least one of the 108 As described by Ivan G. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, mainly 106. 109 These moments were documented by Christian artists, although it is not clear to what extent they were intimately familiar with the distinction between the vessles or other halakhic and customal details. See, for example, the etching, drawn in 1705 by the German artist J. A. Bönner, depicting a wedding celebration that is taking place at the synagogue courtyard of Fürth. The captions beneath the respective buildings portrayed in the scene identify them as the “new synagogue” built in 1697 on the left, and the “old synagogue” on the right. Interestingly, the ceremony is held near the northeastern buttress of the old, stone structure, which was consecrated in 1617. Standing slightly apart from the ingathered guests, the bridegroom is about to cast a flask or glass at the marriage stone embedded in the buttress. 110 Maharil, Sefer Maharil, fol. 83r.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

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following external signs, the woman shall be considered as having married as a virgin,111 and the compensation, according to the sum stated in her marriage contract (ketubbah), could thus be determined: if they danced before her [and] played before her, passed before her the cup of [glad] tidings, or the cloth of virginity, [and] if she has witnesses with regard to one of these [things], her ketubbah is two hundred [zuz].

Deliberating on the meaning of the “cup of [glad] tidings,” the form of the flask or cup is specified, as it is said, R. Judah says: One passes before her a cask of wine. R. Adda the son of Ahaba said: [If she was] a virgin, one passes before her a closed one, [and if] she has had intercourse with a man, one passes before her an open one.112

The apostate Anthonius Margaritha (ca. 1500–1561) describes the exact type of vessel used in Jewish weddings in Early Modern Germany. Son of R. Jacob Margaliot of Regensburg, Margaritha converted to Catholicism and later embraced Lutheranism. He devoted his life to the publication of impassioned works against the Jews, their beliefs and customs. Defused of their polemics, his observations nonetheless constitute an important and fairly reliable sources of information.113

111 BT Ketubbot 16a–b. 112 Op. cit., 16b. See also David Sperber, “Minhagei Ḥuppah baOmanut haYehudit” (Ḥuppah Ceremonies in Jewish Art), Rimmonim 6–7 (1989): 50–64 (Hebrew). 113 This view is expressed, among other scholars, by Michael T. Walton, “Anthonius Margaritha – Honest Reporter?” Sixteenth Century Journal. The Journal of Early Modern Studies 36, no. 1 (Spring, 2005): 129–141, who examined Margaritha’s discourse on some major issues, mainly the 'aleinu prayer and the anti-Christian polemic it aroused. Many other studies support this conclusion. Similar notions are expressed by Yaacov Deutsch, Judaism in Christian Eyes, 2, who goes as far as stating that “almost all the accounts of Jewish customs are accurate”. See, however, the criticism of both these studies expressed by Marc Saperstein, “Learning about Judaism from Apostate Writings,” The Jewish Quarterly Review, 104, no. 2 (Spring 2014): 315–322. Saperstein’s rule of thumb, namely “. . . it would have been useful to be referred to Jewish sources confirming or refuting the reliability of such reports . . .” (316) is crucial in assessing the accuracy of Margaritha’s report – a recommendation to be broadened also to corroboration with other sources and adopted with regards to other texts as well. See also Stephen G. Burnett, “Distorted Mirrors: Antonius Margaritha, Johann Buxtorf and Christian Ethnographies of the Jews,” The Sixteenth Century Journal 25, 2 (Summer, 1994): 275–287. Examining Margaritha and Buxtorf as ethnographic writers, Burnett writes (p. 267): “Margaritha and Buxtorf were not disinterested ethnographers who sought to provide a balanced and fair appraisal of Jewish life and religion, but were Christians who were violently opposed to Judaism, and their descriptions were to some degree skewed by their theological and social agendas. However, their portrayals of observant Jewish life are sufficiently accurate and detailed to give at least a semblance of objectivity”.

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In one of his major works, Der gantz Jüdisch Glaub, published in Augsburg in 1530, Margaritha describes the breaking of the glass by the bridegroom in the following words, . . . und dann gibt er disen gutter dem breuttigam in die hand/ unnd so geet dann der preüttigam gůts můts/ unnd wirfft disen angster mit wein an ein wand das er zů klainen trümmern prichtt . . .114

Margaritha illustrates the moment in which the rabbi hands over the glass to the bridegroom, who then dashes it, with some of the wine still in it, against the synagogue wall. The terms he uses for the vessel are Gutter and Angster. The following year, the book came out again. In the new edition, published in 1531 by a different publisher,115 the nomenclature is slightly different, preferring the term Guttrolff rather than Gutter, yet the details of the rite remained unaltered in essence: . . . darnach gibt der Rabbi der brauwt und breutigam abermal zutrinkē/ und deṅ gibt ehr diesen guttrolff dem brewtigam ynn die handt/ und so gehet/ den der breutigā guts muts/ und wirfft diesen angster mit wein wider eyne wandt/ das ehr zu kleynen drůṁern bricht . . .116

Although Margaritha does not differentiate between closed- and open-mouthed receptacles, he does provide important information, showing his familiarity with the specific glass used for the marriage of a virgin. The object he names Guttrolff, better known as Kuttrolf, is interchangeable with Angster in his description.117 This term refers to a belly-shaped bottle with a long and usually curved neck, composed of two or more twisted pipes. This particular form allows for slow pouring of the contents of the bottle in a trickle. It was common in the Roman world as early as the third–fourth centuries, and its name may have derived from the Latin guttus, meaning a drop of water. The term Angster denotes the same idea, prob-

114 Anthonius Margaritha, Anthonium Margaritham . . . beschriben vnd an Tag gegeben (Augsburg: Durch Heynrich Steyner, 1530): H(v) (unpaginated). The copy consulted here is kept in Munich, Bayerische Sataatsbibliothek, Res/4 Jud. 13 [VD16 M 973]. Compared to the wording in the Nuremberg Miscellany, Margaritha is making a general statement whereas the Miscellany suggests a specifically determined place against which the vessel is dashed. 115  In that same year, the book was published in a different edition, presumbably in Augsburg. A copy is kept in Munich, Bayerische Sataatsbibliothek, Rar. 1598 [VD16 M 974]. 116 Anthonius Margaritha, Der Gãtz Jüdisch glaub mit sampt eyner grůntlichẽ vnd warhafftigen anzeygunge/ aller Satzungen/ Ceremonien/ Gebeten/ heimliche vṅ ỏffentliche gebreuch/ deren sich die Jůden Haltē/ durch das gantz Jar/ mitt schỏnen vṅ gegrůndten argumēten wider yhren Glaubē/ durch Anthonium Margaritham . . . beschrieben vnd an tagk gegeben. Durch yhn selbst/ gemehrt vnd gebessert/ vnd fleiβigk Corrigirt (Leipzig: Melchior Lotther, 1531), Hiiii-Hiiii(v) (unpaginated). 117 The nomenclature includes also Kutterolf, Gutterolf, Guttrolf, or Gluckerflasche. Some of the variations in spelling may reflect local particularities or different pronounciations.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 319

ably related to the Latin term angustus, namely thin. Following developments in European material culture in Early Modern Europe, this shape became popular with German glassblowers (see Figure 130).118

Figure 130: Kuttrolf (Filigrana Bottle), Venice, late 16c or early 17c [Los Angeles, The J. Paul   Getty Museum, 84.DK.661]

For our study, one of the most important sources that mention the Kuttrolf is Johannes Buxtorf the Elder in his Synagoga Iudaica. Describing in 1603 the form of the vessel that the Jewish bridegroom breaks at the end of the ceremony, he says: “Wen die Braut ein Jungfraw ist/ neṁen sie gemeinlich ein Gutter oder eng Glaβ/ zu einer Wittib ein weit Glaβ, und zu Wormbs ein Erdē Geschirr . . .”119 In other words, if the bride is a virgin, a Gutter or a narrow glass is broken, but for a widow they take a broad-mouthed glass. In Worms, however – he adds – they 118 See Brigitte Klesse and Gisela Reineking von Bock, Glas (Cologne: Kunstgewerbemuseum der Stadt Köln, 2. Erneuerte Auflage, 1973), 111, no. 183, Inv. No. F 190, dated to the sixteenth– seventeenth century, or two examples from the seventeenth century, 112, nos. 184–184, Inv. No. F 651 and F 223, respectively—the latter made of clear glass. See also Rainer Kahsnitz and Rainer Brandl, eds., Aus dem Wirtshaus zum Wilden Mann: Funde aus dem mittelalterlichen Nürnberg; eine Ausstellung des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 5. Juli–16. September 1984 (Exhibition catalogue) (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1984), 49. On more technical issues, see Hans Löber, “Guttrolfe, Formgebung und Herstellungstechnik,” Glastechnische Berichte 39, no. 12 (1966): 539–548. 119 Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudaica (1603), 633.

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use an earthenware vessel. In the 1604 edition of Buxtorf’s book, augmented with copper engravings, one image shows the casting of the glass at a wedding. The depicted vessel has a narrow neck, in accordance with the text.120 The use of a narrow-mouthed glass for the wedding of a virgin is illustrated on fol. 34v of the Nuremberg Miscellany (see Figure 131). On the right, the officiator holds a green onion-shaped object with a curving neck, which is none other than a Waldsglas Kuttrolf. It serves as a visual rendering of the text: “And after all that, the one reciting the benediction takes the second glass, that is a receptacle with a narrow mouth, and recites the following seven benedictions over it.”

Figure 131: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058   (Rl. 203)]

120 Op. cit., 513. See a later testimony in Paul Christian Kirchner, Jüdisches Ceremoniel, oder, Beschreibung derjeninigen Gebräuche, welche die Juden sowohl inn- als ausser dem Tempel, bey der Beschneidung, bey Hochzeiten, Auslösung der Erst-Geburt, im Sterben, bey Begräbniss und dergleichen, in acht zu nehmen pflegen . . . nunmehro aber bey dieser neuen Aufl. mit accuraten Kupfern versehen; nicht weniger aus den besten Scribenten sowol, als aus Erzehlung glaubwürdiger Personen und selbst eigener Erfahrung um vieles vermehret und mit Anmerkungen erläutert von Sebastian Jacob Jungendres (Nuremberg: Peter Conrad Monath, 1724), 23. Kupf., 185; as well as in the engraving by Paul Georg Nusbiegel printed in Johann Christoph Georg Bodenschatz, Kirchliche Verfassung der heutigen Juden (Frankfurt: Auf Kosten des Auctoris, 1748–1749), fig. XI, 127 and the small vignette at the top right.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

 321

The rabbi or officiator, standing outside the ḥuppah, holds another, seemingly insignificant object in his left hand. Merely an ink-drawn rectangle, it is undoubtedly the ketubbah that he is about to publicly recite and then hand to the groom to give to his bride. The Mishnah delineates the ways in which a man “takes a woman” as his wife, that differ from the biblical custom of requesting paternal consent and a financial arrangement between the two parties involved.121 According to the Mishnah, a woman is “acquired” in three ways: through money, through a contract, or through sexual intercourse.122 As with other ancient cultures, Hebrew and Israelite biblical society employed rings as ornamental jewellery or official signets,123 but there is no evidence of it playing a role in weddings. The rabbinic tradition, which prevails to the present day, maintains the notion of “acquisition” at least symbolically, but restricts the process to a contractual arrangement through the ketubbah. This contract enters into force by the transfer of ownership of an object “worth at least a penny,” nowadays generally understood as a ring. At the conclusion of the wedding ceremony, the bridegroom places a ring on the index finger of the bride’s right hand, while reciting, “Behold, you are betrothed unto me with this ring, according to the Law of Moses and Israel.”124 For this tradition, there are detailed descriptions in the Nuremberg Miscellany, including several explanations for the insistence on the index finger (fol. 34r-v) and an assertion that the ring must be made of gold and not studded with stones.125 The illustration of the bride indeed shows her stretching out her right arm towards the groom, who holds a plain ring in his left hand, ready to place it on his bride’s index finger.126 An impressive number of Jewish wedding rings have survived,127 but only few date from earlier than the sixteenth century and even fewer are dated with scien-

121 Such was, for example, the case with Moses’ parents, as it is told in Exod 2:1: “And there went a man of the house of Levi, and took to wife a daughter of Levi.” 122 M. Kiddushin 1:1. 123 Exod 35:22, for example, speaks of “nose-rings, and ear-rings, and signet-rings” that were donated by the Israelites for the construction of the Tabernacle and its appurtenances. 124 The bridegroom’s declaration is founded on BT Kiddushin 5b. Like the Romans, the Jews do not exchange rings, and only the bride receives one from her bridegroom. 125 According to Tosafot, Kiddushin 9r, s.v. ‫והלכתא שיראי‬. 126 After the ceremony, the bride may wear her ring on the ring finger. 127 Some bibliographic references are found in Joseph Gutmann, “‘With this Ring I You Wed’: Unusual Jewish Wedding Rings,” in For Every Thing a Season. Proceedings of the Symposium on Jewish Ritual Art, ed. idem (Cleveland: Cleveland State University, 2002) 136, n. 5. Gutmann, however, expresses doubts regarding the ascription of the extant rings as Jewish and the dating of some of them. See additional examples in Catalogue of the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition,

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tific credibility or have been uncovered in reliable archaeological excavations that place them in historical context.128 Most of the earliest examples from Ashkenaz are crowned with a hoop in the shape of a building – perhaps a symbol of the Jerusalem Temple, a synagogue, or the new home of the couple.129 Some costly specimens have enamel decorations, and several medieval rings bear the inscription mazal ṭov (Heb. lit. “good planet/constallation”, denoting “good luck,” – a traditional greeting for happy lifetime occasions). One such ring of unknown provenance belongs to the Kölnisches Stadtmuseum in Cologne. It was originally dated to the nineteenth century.130 It surprisingly shares common features with a thirteenth-century specimen found in Colmar (Alsace, France) in 1863.131 Both rings are made of gold, decorated with enamel and inscribed mazal ṭov. Another ring, uncovered in the excavations of the Jewish quarter of Erfurt, is similarly dated (see Figure 132).132 A ring from the late sixteenth century, probably made

Royal Albert Hall, London, 1887, ed. Joseph Jacobs and Lucien Wolf (London: F. Haes, 1888), nos. 1822–1831 and 1949–1963. 128 See the study on Ashkenazi Jewish wedding rings by Maria Stürzebecher, “Der Schatzfund aus der Michaelisstrasse in Erfurt,” in Die mittlealterliche jüdische Kultur in Erfurt, Bd. 1: Der Schatzfund: Archäologie-Kunstgeschichte-Siedlungsgeschichte, edited by Sven Osteritz (Weimar: Thüringisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie / Langenweißbach: Bier & Beran, 2010), 94–99. See recently idem, “The Medieval Jewish Wedding Ring from the Erfurt Treasure: Ceremonial Object or Bride Price?” Erfurter Schriften zur Jüdischen Geschichte, Band 6: Ritual Objects in Ritual Contexts, ed. Claudia D. Bergmann and Maria Stürzebecher (Jena/Quedlinburg: Bussert & Stadeler, 2020): 72–79. 129 As on the ring, currently in the Schatzkammer of the Residenz in Munich, mentioned in writing already in 1598, thus determining its a terminus ante quem. See Gutmann, “With this Ring,” 133, and fig. 2 on 139. Cf. Mann, “‘New’ Examples,” 13–14 and nn. 10–17 on p. 23. Another such example, allegedly from northern Italy, dated to the fifteenth century, is in Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Stieglitz Collection, no. 102/110; B86.0264. See Benjamin, Stieglitz Collection, no. 220. 130 The ring was acquired in 1928 by the Kölnisches Stadtmuseum. It was published by the museum as the “Find of the Month” on September 10, 2010, http://www.museenkoeln.de/ archaeologische-zone/default.asp?s=4382. 131 Paris, Musée de Cluny, Colmar Treasure, MNMA, Cl. 20658. See Christine Descatoire, ed., Treasures of the Black Death (London: The Wallace Collection, 2009), 62–63. The ring is ascribed to Italian workmanship. 132 Erfurt, TDLA 5067/98. See Descatoire, Treasures, 60–61. See also the ring from Halle, Staatliche Galerie Moritzburg, Mo-LMK-E-162, dated to the first half of the fourteenth century, op. cit., 62–63. This ring, though, does not share the pyramidal roof with the other rings, but has a rectangular structure as its bezel. Other rings with a similar feature are reproduced in Gutmann, “With this Ring,” 140–141, figs. 3–4. Note also 139, fig.2, for a supposedly later ring. See also 133 and n. 9 for the registry of the ring in 1598.

Ḥuppah: The Bridal Canopy 

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Figure 132: Jewish wedding ring, Germany, late 13c-early 14c [Erfurt, TLDA 5067/98]

in France, is made of gold and decorated with enamel and bears the initials ‫מ ט‬ (initials of mazal ṭov).133 The only extant illuminated ketubbah from medieval Ashkenaz is the abovementioned manuscript from Krems, Austria. Although missing parts of the contract, including the day and the month, it bears the year equivalent to 1391/1392. Flanking the text, the illustration shows the bridegroom on the right extending an impressive ring, astoundingly studded with a stone, to the crowned bride, who stands on the upper left margin, pointing her right index finger towards him (see Figure 122).134 In contrast to such elaborate objects mounted with architectural structures or stones, the simplicity of the ring depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany is striking. It strictly complies with the halakhic ruling prescribing a simple ring without a stone, mentioned also in the secondary text. Illustrations of such rings are found in the fifteenth-century haggadot—the Second Nuremberg Haggadah, the Yahuda Haggadah, and the Ḥileq and Bileq Haggadah.135 Both types of rings seem to have coexisted, possibly implying an understanding of the rabbinic prohibition

133 Paris, Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Inv. 32536. 134 The date of the illustration respective of the text is unclear and needs to be carefully examined. 135 See details in Feuchtwanger, “Coronation,” 221.

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as pertaining to the addition of other constituents (the illustration in the Krems ketubbah notwithstanding), but not to the shaping of the ring itself. Another explanation of the simple, round form of the ring in the Nuremberg Miscellany and in the haggadot could be that the small size of the illustrations and limitations of the artist’s skills made the representation of a more elaborately formed ring impractical. It is, moreover, important to note that most of the Ashkenazi wedding rings that have survived are visual testimony of goldsmithery of the finest quality that only affluent individuals could afford—unless they were the public property of the local Jewish community, as suggested by some scholars. Naturally, the large majority of the Jewish population had to do with simple bands made of lesser materials. In cases where such bands have survived, there is no clear-cut proof of their designation as wedding rings or of their having been in Jewish use at all. The transition of Jewish weddings from the synagogue to the outdoors was only one of several transformations that took place in the celebration of originally private rites of passage. Another was the introduction of the custom of holding a portable wedding canopy—a ḥuppah—above the bride and groom, thus creating a defined space symbolising the new home they are about to build.136 The earliest known mention of the portable ḥuppah is in the writings of R. Moses Isserles (1520–1572).137 Its origins may be in an earlier custom of spreading a ṭallit (prayer shawl) over the heads of the couple. Some medieval Hebrew manuscripts contain illustrations that show this custom. For example, the late thirteenth-century Worms Maḥzor,138 like the Second Nuremberg Haggadah, the Ḥileq and Bileq Haggadah, and the Yahuda Haggadah, show images of the bride and groom with a ṭallit serving as a canopy above them.139 Other visual depic-

136 Joseph Gutmann, though, suggests that a similar custom already existed in Christian wedding rituals in the early medieval period. He mentions the “pallium” or “velum” that was sometimes spread above the heads of the bridal couple without further reference or support. See his published lecture, What Can Jewish History Learn from Jewish Art? (The Joseph and Ceil Mazer Institute for Research and Advanced Study in Judaica. Occasional Papers in Jewish History and Thought 3) (New York: The Center for Jewish Studies, 1989), 13–14. 137 Moses Isserles to Shulḥan 'Arukh, Yoreh De'ah, 391, and Even ha'Ezer 51:a. See above, 292–294. Portable canopies have existed in non-Jewish contexts such as Corpus Christi processions. For a sixteenth-century example, see the procession shown on a double-page in The Hours of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, Rome, completed in 1546, in New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, M69, reproduced in John Harthan, Books of Hours and Their Owners (London: Thames and Hudson, 1977; reprint, 1982), 168 and reproduction on 166–167. 138 Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, Heb 4° 781/1, fol. 34v. See reproduction in Shalev-Eyni, “Iconogrpahy of Love,” 29, fig. 1. 139 Fol. 12v in the Second Nuremberg Haggadah and fol. 11v in the Yahuda Haggadah. See reproductions in Feuchtwanger, “Coronation,” 221.

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tions reflect different customs, often documented also in contemporary customal books and responsa.140 The illustration of the ceremony in the Nuremberg Miscellany does not visually feature a ṭallit, although the compiler indicates on fol. 33v that It is customary, during the ḥuppah, when the wedding benedictions are recited, to spread the ṭallit above the bridegroom and the bride, as it is said “spread therefore your skirt over your handmaid . . .”

which are Ruth’s words to Bo'az when she sought his protection in a levirate marriage.141 We see a similar idea in the prophetic words of Ezekiel describing the brideand-groom relationship between God and His people, cited previously in a different context, When I passed by you again and looked upon you, behold, you were at the age for love; and I spread my skirt over you, and covered your nakedness: yea, I plighted my troth to you and entered into a covenant with you, says the Lord God, and you became mine . . .142

Around the sixteenth century, alongside the growing tendency to hold the wedding ceremony in the open, the use of a portable wedding canopy also spread. It was a square or rectangular cloth attached to or borne on four posts at its corners, often symbolically made of blue fabric and decorated with stars. This iconography represented at the same time the heavens and the covenantal promise of proliferation made to the biblical Patriarchs.143 Another popular form of decoration was the embroidery of biblical verses, such as an excerpt from Jeremiah 33:10–11,144 or—as in the Miscellany—the greeting “mazal ṭov.”

140 See, for example, Rema to Shulḥan 'Arukh, 'Even ha'Ezer, 61a. For an image of such a ḥuppah from a later period, see Kirchner, Jüdisches Ceremoniel, 181. 141 Ruth 9:3. 142 Ezek 16:8. 143 As in Gen 22:17; 26:4, and Exod 32:13. 144 “Thus saith the Lord: Yet again there shall be heard in this place . . ., even in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem . . . the voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride . . .” The same particle of the verse is rendered on three other occasions by the prophet: 7:34, 16:9, and 25:10—all in the negative context of destruction and demise, but also as the epitomy of gladness of wedding. In BT Ketubbot 8a, this phrase appears already as a binding part of the benedictions uttered during the ceremony: “Blessed art You, O Lord our King, God of the universe, who has created joy and gladness, bridegroom and bride, rejoicing, song, mirth, and delight, love, and brotherhood, and peace, and friendship. Speedily, O Lord our God, may be heard in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the

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The expression “mazal ṭov”, used on personal celebrations, is rooted in astrology and folk belief. Its common meaning, “good luck” derives from one interpretation of the Hebrew word mazal (‫)מזָ ל‬ ַ or “luck,” which also means “planet” or “constellation.” Thus, when speaking these words, one is actually wishing that the event be blessed with a good (ṭov) astrological constellation, or “good destiny.” The Talmud discusses at length the effect of the luminaries on physical reality and human destiny. A homily on the characteristics of people born on specific days of the week, each of which is equivalent to one of the days of Creation, and the importance of the hour of birth concludes with a theological deliberation on whether or not “[The Folk of] Israel is dependent on the planetary influence.”145 This lengthy discourse illustrates the permeation of astrological beliefs into the Jewish world defying earlier prohibitions of ascribing such powers to the planets.146 Despite attempts to refute these currents,147 the generally accepted view

voice of the bride, the voice of the singing of bridegrooms from their canopies and of youths from their feasts of song. Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who maketh the bridegroom to rejoice with the bride.” 145 BT Shabbat 156a-b. See also above, 115 and n. 155 there. 146 The fundamental prohibition against any form of worship of the celestial bodies is spoken in the Second Commandment (Exod 20:3–5 and Deut 5:7–9) and reiterated in Deut 4:15–19. God emphatically warns the Israelites against worshipping any form of graven image, including the celestial bodies, “. . . even the form of any figure, the likeness of male or female, the likeness of any beast that is on the earth, the likeness of any winged fowl that flieth in the heaven, the likeness of any thing that creepeth on the ground, the likeness of any fish that is in the water under the earth; and lest thou lift up thine eyes unto heaven, and when thou seest the sun and the moon and the stars, even all the host of heaven, thou be drawn away and worship them, and serve them, which the Lord thy God hath allotted unto all the peoples under the whole heaven.” See also above, 114–116. 147 In other places in the Talmud, though, contradictory views are expressed. See, for example, Sanhedrin 65a and Pesahim 113b, where it is stated that Jews may not consult an astrologer, whereas in 'Avodah Zarah 5a it is told how Abraham bore upon his breast an astrological tablet on which the fate of every man might be read. See further (in alphabetical order) David Feuchtwang, “Der Tierkreis in der Tradition und im Synagogenritus,” Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums, LIX, 5 (1915), 241–267; Ronald Kiener, “The Status of Astrology in the Early Kabbalah: From the Sefer Yesirah to the Zohar,” in The Beginnings of Jewish Mysticism in Europe: Proceedings of the Second International Conference on the History of Jewish Mysticism (Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought VI), ed. Joseph Dan (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1987), 1*–42* (English section); Y. Tzvi Langermann, “Maimonides’ Repudiation of Astrology,” in Maimonides and the Sciences, ed. Robert S. Cohen and Hillel Levine (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Press, 2000), 131–157; Raphael Levy, The Astrological Works of Abraham ibn Ezra (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1927); Shlomo Pines, “To Behold the Stars and the Heavenly Bodies,” Immanuel 20 (1986): 33–37; and a summary of rabbinic literature on

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resonates in the words of R. Ḥanina, “The planetary influence [i.e., astrological influence of the constellations] gives wisdom, the planetary influence gives wealth, and Israel stands under planetary influence.”148 The words “mazal ṭov” on the wedding canopy in the Nuremberg Miscellany image flank a spectacular coronet studded with precious stones. Although there is no scriptural reference to the presence of actual crowns in the wedding ceremony in the manuscript, the artist placed them prominently over the heads of the bride and groom. The coronet on the canopy serves as the vertex of a virtual triangle, along with those of the bridal couple. Beyond compositional considerations, it also suggests a moralistic inference. It hints at the dictum discussed earlier, ascribed to R. Simeon,149 recorded in M. Avot: “R. Simeon said, there are three crowns: the crown of [the study of] the Law, the crown of priesthood and the crown of royalty, [but] the crown of [a] good name is superior to them all.”150 Although the Mishnah mentions four coronets altogether, there are only three depicted in the scene, yet the positioning of one above the couple and their respective coronets may imply that it symbolises the “crown of [a] good name.” It might further suggest that erudition, priesthood, or royalty cannot be fully actualised without a “good name,” good standing, and conduct that are dependent solely on the individual and not on lineage. Thus, the moralistic message from the first pages of the Nuremberg Miscellany is once again invoked to remind the couple of their duty to live a life of respect for their Jewish heritage and of honour for their parents, thereby granting them the “crown of [a] good name.”151 Along with the main protagonists of the wedding scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the illustration includes also a lutenist, standing on a low bench or

the subject by Reimund Leicht, “The Reception of Astrology in Medieval Ashkenazi Culture,” Aleph: Historical Studies in Science and Judaism 13, no. 2 (2013): 201–234, to mention but a few studies. 148 BT Shabbat 156a. 149 Actually referring to R. Simeon bar Yoḥai, who flourished around the period of the Bar Kokhba War (132–135 CE). 150 M. Avot 4:17 (according to other divisions: 4:13). 151 See above, 68–88.

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stool to the left of the wedding canopy, playing his lute.152 His presence there is explained by the fact that music has always played an important role in the marriage festivity, from the bridal entourage bringing the bride to the wedding down to the festivities following the ceremony in honour of the couple, as shown on fol. 35v. The lute was one of the most prevalent medieval and renaissance musical instruments, especially for song accompaniment.153 Most of its music was improvised, resulting in the scarcity of musical scores specifically written for it. By the sixteenth century, the lute had become the premier solo instrument, alongside its role of accompanying singers.154 The one depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany wedding illustration has four strings and five pegs, unlike those typical for the fifteenth and early sixteenth century, which featured a minimum of six strings.155 Otherwise, it shows characteristics of the pre-Baroque type, complete with its near right-angled pegbox (compare Figure 133, no 3).156

152 Cf. the Second Nuremberg Haggadah from Germany, formerly in Jerusalem, Schocken Institute Library, ms. 24087, fol. 12v, currently in the David Sofer Collection, London, and the Yahuda Haggadah of the same period and origin in Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/50; B55.01.0109, fol. I1v. Both are reproduced (in detail only) in Feuchtwanger, “Coronation,” 221. Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudaica, 579, explicitly mentions the “Laute und anderm Seitenspiel” (lute and other string instruments) as the musical instruments entertaining the bridal couple that sets to stand under the ḥuppah. 153 See a historical survey by Douglas Alton Smith, A History of the Lute from Antiquity to the Renaissance (Lexington: Lute Society of America, 2002). 154 Mary Rasmussen, “The Case of the Flutes in Holbein’s ‘The Ambassadors’,” Early Music 23, no. 1, Flute Issue (1995): 116, discusses the lute as symbol of harmony. 155 This inaccuracy may be the result not only of negligence on the part of the artist or his concentration on the main characteristics rather than on particularities, but also due to the small size of the illustration. 156 See the depictions of the lutenist from both printings of Sebastian Virdung’s Musica getutscht, in Ripin, “Reevaluation,” 203; and the title page of Guillaume Vosterman, “Livre plaisant” of 1529, ibid., 206, fig. 7.

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Figure 133: Michael Praetorius, Syntagma musicum, Bd. 2: De Organographia, Wolfenbüttel, 1619–20, panel XVI

Dancing for the Bride and Groom Tradition has it that the bride and groom are led to the ceremony “in festive merriment,”157 suggesting dance and music. R. Judah b. 'Elai, a tanaitic sage who 157 See, for example, R. Asher Ben Yeḥi’el, Orḥot Ḥayyim, Rulings of Kiddushin §21, s.v. ‫ולברכת נשואין‬.

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lived in the second half of the second century, is known to have danced in front of brides with a branch of myrtle.158 His conduct, although disputed by some rabbis, is quoted within the context of the discourse on “How does one dance before the bride?” Be the interpretations and views regarding the custom as they may, they nonetheless reflect the importance of merrymaking at Jewish weddings.159 Of the three illustrations dedicated to the wedding cycle in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the illustration of the entourage of the bride and bridegroom on fols. 33v-34r of the Nuremberg Miscellany does not reflect this tradition in any way. Nonetheless, musicians do appear in other contexts in the wedding cycle: the lutenist accompanying the wedding ceremony discussed earlier (fol. 34v) is surely part of the custom, as is the illustration showing the wedding dance on fol. 35v (see Figure 134).

Figure 134: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

158 BT Ketubbot 17a. 159 Op. cit., 16b–17a. See also Masekhet Kalla Rabbati, chap. 9, §1; and Masekhet Derekh Ereẓ, Pirqei Ben Azai, chap. 4, §4. A different tradition is brought in JT Pe’ah 1, 15:4:5, and yet another in Genesis Rabbah (Vilna), 29, §4. The midrash even goes as far as to ascribe the performance of this miẓvah to the vicious Queen Jezebel. See Yalquṭ Shim'oni to II Kgs 9, §232.

Dancing for the Bride and Groom 

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The compiler-scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany refers to the merrymaking through music in the secondary text, inscribed within the text-space. In this short discourse preceding the actual reference to the wedding dances, he is alluding to the biblical description of the Giving of the Law on Mt. Sinai, as it is told, “On the morning of the third day, there were thunders and lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast.”160 From this he infers, “It is customary that women take with them candles and perform dances: firstly the bride with the groom, and then the [invited] people with the bridegroom, and then the women with the bride. [This custom] is called Meien.” The wedding dance was of special significance in the Germanic local Christian society. Whereas in some parts of this geo-cultural area the dance had a legal effect of “sealing” the agreement between the bridal couple, it generally assumed religious symbolism as well. The so-called Brauttanz (“bride’s dance” or “bridal dance”) therefore followed strict regulations and was regarded, like the wedding procession, as a public assertion of the new bond between husband and wife.161 Similarly, the Jewish custom of playing music and “dancing before the bride” was an additional way of proclaiming the bride’s marital status on the eve of her wedding, making visible the distinction between first and subsequent marriages. So was the recital—or chanting—of piyyuṭim for that occasion.162 Deliberating the external signs by which the bride’s virginity can be determined for legal purposes, BT Ketubbot quotes the Mishnah (“If there are witnesses that she went out with a hinnuma' . . .”)163 and in particular recalls a polemic between R. Abbahu and R. Papa earlier in the text, cited above, If they danced before her, played [music] before her .  .  . [and] if she has witnesses with regard to one of these [things], her ketubbah is two hundred [zuz]. . .,

as these are deeds that are only done at the marriage of a virgin.164 Thus, dance, music, and other visible actions that indicate the bride’s virginity at the time of the wedding constitute evidence of her right to receive a com-

160 Exod 19:16. 161 Cf. Dick, “The Bridesman,” 341, and, more specifically, Schröder, “Brautlauf,” 17–34. 162 Chanting of piyyuṭim for the lifetime events is described from a historical-ethnomusicological aspect by Geoffrey Goldberg, “Maḥzor haḤayyim: Life-Cycle Celebration in the Song of the Ashkenazic Synagogue,” AJS Review 33, no. 2 (2009): 305–339. 163 M. Ketubbot 2:1. 164 BT Ketubbot, 16b. Later on in the text, the rabbis ask what it is that one sings or recites before the bride on her wedding feast. A lesson was taught by R. Dimi, who came from Eretz Israel to Babylonia. “He said: Thus they sing before the bride in the West: no powder and no paint and no waving [of the hair], and still a graceful gazelle.”

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pensation of two hundred zuz in case of a divorce, twice the amount paid to a previously married woman. Other external signs are the coiffure and the crown, wreath, or diadem on her head, and the shape and type of the vessel broken by the bridegroom mentioned earlier.165 At the bottom of a page containing the liturgical text of the marriage ceremony that continues overleaf (fol. 35v), an illustration shows a wedding dance with four figures, two of whom are musicians clad as a wolf and a bear (see Figure 135). The wolf-clad musician plays a transverse fife or keyless cylindrical flute.166 The earliest reference to such a musical instrument is of the mid-twelfth century,167 in

Figure 135: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

165 Some sages argue that the condiments and sweetmeats served at the wedding also vary according to the marital status of the bride prior to her nuptials. 166 See Adam Carse, Musical Wind Instruments: History of the Wind Instruments Used in European Orchestras and Wind-Bands From The Later Middle Ages up to the Present Time (London: Macmillan, 1939; unabridged republication, New York: Dover, 2002), 81–83. On the significance of the flute in general and on its role in sixteenth-century art, see Rasmussen, “Holbein’s Ambassadors,” 114–123. 167 Max Wade-Matthews, Music. An Illustrated History. An Encyclopedia of Musical Instruments and the Art of Music-Making (London: Hermes House, 2001), 144–145.

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Hortus Deliciarum—a book written by the Abbess Herrad of Landsberg. This type of instrument was popular in Renaissance Europe (ca. 1500–1650).168 Throughout the sixteenth century, the flute was one of the most popular instruments of the Italian musical scene. It had a very simple structure, consisting of a cylindrical tube with a cork stopper at one end, a blowhole, and six finger holes. The flutes’ musical span was limited, and they existed in different sizes in order to handle the complete range of the tunes being performed. The form and mode of playing the flute in the illustration raise a few issues. Contrary to what the artist painted, contemporary flutes did not have the bulges at either end of the instrument, but did have a mouthhole (embouchure) and six small tone holes,169 fewer than those visible in the image, and normally only the end above the embouchure hole would have a cork stop. The placement of the hands and mouth in relation to the fife is problematic as well, and there is hardly a way in which the instrument could be played in such a position. In fact, the figure is blowing into a tone hole around the middle of the tube rather than into the mouthhole, which is typically found further towards its upper end.170 The musician in the bear hide, standing behind the one guised as a wolf, plays the snare drum or a side drum.171 The tabor, a precursor of the side drum, came into military use in Central and Western Europe through the instruments used by the Ottoman Empire’s armies in the 1500s, which, in turn, influenced Swiss mercenary troop drummers. The main role of the tabor was to set the rhythm for dancing. While traditionally the side drum would be fastened to the drummer’s chest or suspended at his side, this feature is missing in our

168 To date, the most frequently quoted history of the flute is the one by Richard Shepherd Rockstro, A Treatise on the Construction, the History, and the Practice of the Flute: Including a Sketch of the Elements of Acoustics and Critical Notices of Sixty Celebrated Flute-Players; the Greater Part of the Biographical Information Collected and the Whole of the Extracts from the German and the Italian, trans. Georgina M. Rockstro, Flute Library, 2nd series, vol. 23 (Buren: F. Knuf, 1986; reprint of London: Rudall & Company, 1890). 169 Flutes with six tone holes along their cylindrical tube were fashioned already in the Middle Ages. See Carse, Musical Wind Instruments, 81. 170 See Wade-Matthews, Music, 192–193. 171 James Blades, Percussion Instruments and Their History (London: Bold Strummer, 2005), 210–220, provides a detailed history of the side drum based on textual and visual sources. Fig. 100 shows a Swiss side drum from 1575, housed in the Historisches Museum in Basel, which compares to the one in the Nuremberg Miscellany.

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illustration172: Here, the drum is not swung at the side or supported by a shoulder strap or body belt.173 The bear-clad percussionist uses two relatively heavy sticks, but contrary to normal practice, the way the hands hold the mallets does not conform to contemporary usage. Moreover, the maws of the bear playing the drum are slightly agape with bared teeth, possibly showing it singing along with the thudding beats of its drum. Fifes and side drums share a long history of use in the military and other parades, as recorded, for example, in the City Chronicles of Basle as early as 1332. Together, they were (and still are) used to produce drum cadences that accompany infantry on the march as well as to convey signals for the troops on various occasions.174 The drummer who played the tabor sometimes played a fife as well. The other dancers in the image, too, seem to part of the entertainment team (see Figure 136). The female dancer wears a hairnet entirely containing the fall

Figure 136: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

172 James Blades, “Percussion Instruments of the Middle Ages and Renaissance: Their History in Literature and Painting,” Early Music 1, no. 1 (1973): 11–18. 173 Blades, Percussion Instruments, 211. For comparison, see, for example, Gillis Congnet’s portrait of Pierson la Hues, city drummer of Antwerp, painted in 1579. It is currently kept in Antwerp, Musée Royale de Beaux-Arts, shown in fig. 101. 174 The technical aspects of such music-making are described by Jeremy Montagu, “Was the Tabor Pipe Always as We Know It?” The Galpin Society Journal 50 (1997): 16–30.

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of her coiled or plaited hair.175 This is a crespine, crespinette, or caul, which became fashionable in the late thirteenth century. This type of headdress, meant to contain the woman’s hair, was usually made of silver or gold wire or knitted mesh, and was often studded with pearls or decorated with in-woven threads and sequins, although knitted silk, or later, even cotton mesh crespines were also in use.176 Married women wore them on either side of the head in medieval and Early Modern Europe until they fell out of fashion in the seventeenth century.177 The term “caul” appears in its Hebrew form, ‫( ָּכּבּול‬kabul), as early as the time of the Mishnah, where it is listed as one of the types of headgear a woman is discouraged from wearing in public on Shabbat Wherewith may a woman go out, and wherewith may she not go out? A woman may not go out with ribbons of wool, linen ribbons, or fillets round her head . . . [She may not go out] with frontlets, garlands, if they are not sewn, or with a hairnet (kabul) into the street, or with a golden city, or with a necklace . . . Yet if she goes out [with any of those], she is not liable to a sin offering.178

To the sages of the Talmud, the amora’im, some centuries later, this term was no longer clear, and they deliberated its meaning: R. Yannai said: I do not know what it [kabul] is . . . Said R. Abbahu: Reason supports the view that we learnt of a wool hairnet. And it was taught likewise: A woman may go out into a courtyard with a kabul and a clasp. R. Simeon b. Ele'azar said: [She may go out] with a kabul into the street too. R. Simeon b. Ele'azar stated a general rule: Whatever is [worn] beneath the net, one may go out therewith: whatever is [worn] above the net, one may not go out with it.179

175 See, in the seventeenth-century book of customs authored by Yuzpi the Beadle, relating to the bride’s clothing in the seven days before her wedding, in Benjamin Shlomo Hamburger and Yitzhak Zimmer, Minhagim de-K.K. Vermaysa le-Rabi Yozepa Shamesh, mofi'a la-rishonah bi-shelemut me-khitve ha-yad shel ha-mehaber, kolel hashlamot ve-hagahot me-Rabenu Ya’ir Hayim Bakharakh, 'im mekorot, be’urim u-fetihah kelalit 'al yedei Binyamin Shelomoh Hamburger, hakhanat tekst u-mavo histori 'al yedei Yitshak Zimer (Jerusalem: Mif'al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 1982), 227 (Hebrew). 176 This type of medieval headgear, known also in other variations as crisp, crispine, crespinette, is sometimes represented as projecting greatly in bosses or in horn-shaped protuberances in front of the ears. See Hilda Amphlett, Hats: A History of Fashion in Headwear (New York: Dover, 2003), 25, 31–32. 177 Katherine Lester and Bess Viola Oerke, Accessories of Dress: An Illustrated Encyclopedia (Dover Books on Fashion) (Peoria, Ill: Manual Arts Press, 1940; unabridged republication, New York: Dover, 2004), 124–125. 178 M. Shabbat 6:1, as well as 6:5. 179 BT Shabbat 57b.

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It is likely that the medieval crespine is a later development of the kabul of Antiquity as a headgear worn by married women in public. The female dancer illustrated in the manuscript is attired in similar garb to other women in the book, such as Rebecca (fol. 41r), with her modish ruffled chemise (or camicia) worn underneath her puffed-out sleeved bodice or jacket and an apron over her fully gathered skirt.180 In her right hand, just below her waistline, she holds a strap from which a small bulge dangles at her side. Her male partner is also clad in a manner frequently depicted throughout the manuscript, wearing a short hose or Pluderhose (also called Puffhose)—slops or loosely fitting baggy trousers puffed up and slashed according to contemporary Spanish style. The musician playing for the couple in the marriage scene on fol. 35r of the Nuremberg Miscellany is wearing a similar hose, as well as a camicia (shirt), with a doublet or jerkin serving as an overgarment. Musicians and dancers have been an integral part of the Jewish wedding ceremony since Antiquity.181 The earliest allusion to them comes from the Psalms, describing the king’s bride-to-be: “In many-coloured robes, she is led to the king, with her virgin companions, her escort, in her train. With joy and gladness they are led along as they enter the palace of the king.”182 More explicit are the words of Jeremiah, who, epitomising days of “healing and cure,” “abundance of peace and truth” in the days to come, says in one of his consolation prophecies to the People of Israel, Thus says the Lord, “In this place . . . in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem . . . there shall be heard again the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride.”183

Voices of joy and gladness and “the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride” are not unequivocally seen as two sides of the same coin in the biblical

180 Called “Röckly” (‫ )רעקלי‬in Jewish sources, such as the account by Yuzpi the synagogue beadle, quoted in Hamburger and Zimmer, Minhagim de-K.K. Vermaysa, §227. 181 The earliest reference of a rabbinic debate about the nature of the entertainment before the bride is a discourse between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai, held around the end of the first century BCE or early first century CE, and the deeds ascribed to R. Aḥa dating to the fourth century CE, all recorded in BT Ketubbot 17a. On the role of dance in Jewish antiquity with regards to gender issues, see Tal Ilan, “Dance and Gender in Ancient Jewish Sources,” Near Eastern Archaeology 66, no. 3 (2003): 135–136. 182 Ps 45:15–16. Scholars have argued that Gen 31:27, in which a procession “with mirth and with songs, with tabret and with harp,” pertains to wedding, despite the fact that Jacob had already taken both Leah and Rachel as his wives. 183 Jer 33: 10–11. Similar phrases occurs four times in Jer 7:32–34, 16:3–9, and 25:8–11 in a negative context, but only in 33:4–11 is it mentioned in a positive tone.

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verse. Nevertheless, already in the Talmud the two were interpreted as one and the same descriptive, indicative of a procession of dance or song, perhaps of music, in honour of the couple about to be wed: R. Ḥelbo further said in the name of R. Huna’: Whosoever partakes of the wedding meal of a bridegroom and does not felicitate him does violence to “the five voices” mentioned in the verse: The voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the voice of them that say, Give thanks to the Lord of Hosts.184

After the destruction of the Second Temple, the rabbis decreed that the bridegroom should go to the synagogue on Shabbat prior to his wedding accompanied by members of his community who were engaged in merrymaking in his honour.185 The celebrants were typically professional entertainers, whose role was to amuse the guests before the wedding ceremony and during the marriage feast with drollery, riddles, and jests. The Talmud provides a hint to that effect in the story of two men who have presented themselves as jesters, albeit not in the context of weddings: “We are merrymakers (badoḥei) and cheer up the sad. Wheresoever we see two men at enmity, we try to make peace between them.”186 From the Middle Ages, there is ample evidence indicating the existence of professional Jewish performers—possibly along the lines of the troubadours of their time—who replaced unprofessional entertainers at weddings. Their task was to provoke joviality by jest, music, and humorous song. This phenomenon had its opponents, who advocated serenity at wedding feasts based on the mishnahic statement that with the siege of Jerusalem, bridal processions lost their festive nature, and that after the fall of Jerusalem they assumed even the hue of mourning.187 One should consider the role of performers in Ashkenazi weddings against the backdrop of contemporary non-Jewish local custom as well.188 In the early Middle Ages, popular sacred dances emerged in conjunction with church ceremonies and festivals.189 In the course of time, Christian religious dance in general 184 BT Berakhot 6b. 185 Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer §17. 186 BT Ta'anit 22a. See also Rashi ad loc, s.v. ‫בדוחי‬, who explains the term ‫ בדוחי‬or jesters as “merry and making people merry.” 187 M. Soṭah 9:13. 188 One of the earliest rabbinic sources regarding dance and entertainment in honour of the bride and groom in medieval Ashkenaz is Maḥzor Vitry, who maintains (§ 496, ed. Horowitz, 602) that once the official procedures that take place during the wedding ceremony have been concluded, the bride and the groom are seated facing one another and people dance in their honour. 189 The role of dance as part of Christian religious observance has been studied by numerous scholars, such as Doug Adams, Congregational Dancing in Christian Worship (Austin: Sharing,

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was highly ritualised, theatrical, and dramatic and confined to the church. Dance was included in the processional or “round dances” that were performed by the clergy mainly on saints’ days, Christmas and Easter. Other sacred dances of a more popular nature became part of weddings or customs related to funerals. With the development of city life in Europe, the demand for culture in general, and of folk festivals of music and dance in particular, was on the rise.190 Municipal authorities engaged musicians and other types of entertainers on various occasions already in the thirteenth century.191 Gradually, they became part of the cultural milieu of most large cities in Europe. In Germany, for example, the phenomenon of musicians employed by a public authority—such as the Stadtpfeifer (town pipers)—has been around from the late fourteenth century. The Stadtpfeifer provided the music for civic and religious functions.192 There was, however, a distinction between public music and public dancing. The Reformation, in its extreme forms, brought more restrictions to the sacred dance and sought to do away with Christian dance and limit religious festive performance to music.193 Subsequently, religious dance disappeared, giving way to folk expressions. Dance thereby remained confined to the secular realm and mainly to weddings or funerals.194 Following the ancient Jewish custom of public gaiety and dance at weddings, Jews in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period adhered to the custom of musical entertainment and dancing primarily at weddings, most importantly

1980); Marilyn Daniels, The Dance in Christianity: A History of Religious Dance through the Ages (New York: Paulist, 1981); R. Gagne, T. Kane, and R. Ver Eecke, Dance in Christian Worship (Washington, D.C.: Pastoral, 1984), mainly 24–36, to name but a few. 190 Barbara Ehrenreich, Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2007). Ehrenreich argues throughout her book that mass festivities were indigenous to Western civilisation from the ancient Greeks to medieval Christianity. Ultimately, however, church officials drove the festivities into the streets, bringing about an upsurge, or “carnivalisation,” of folk festivities incorporating dance and music. 191 The first indication of a municipally hired musician comes from 1227 from the city of Braunschweig in Germany, as recorded by Wade-Matthews, Music, 42. 192 See Stephan Rose, “From Stadtpfeifer to Kapellmeister,” Early Music 34, no. 2 (2006): 324–326.  193 Margaret Taylor, “A History of Symbolic Movement in Worship,” in Doug Adams and Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, Dance as Religious Studies (New York: Crossroad, 1990), 25. 194 The most common religious dance in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was the “Dance of Death” or danse macabre. Its increasing popularity was closely connected with people’s preoccupation with death during the period of the Black Death (1347–1373). See Richard Kraus and Sarah Alberti Chapman, History of the Dance in Art and Education (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: PrenticeHall, 1981), 59.

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during the bridal pageant.195 As described earlier, the bridal procession—the domum deductio—was an essential part of the consecration of marriage, marking and symbolising the bride’s migration from one household to another in the physical and particularly the legal and religious senses.196 Beyond its role as a rite of passage for the couple, the bride’s procession assumed a role of public and communal dimensions. Her attendants, relatives, and friends dressed her and gave special attention to her coiffure before she left her parental home to marry.197 As shown above, her uncovered hair and the crown set on her head were of crucial legal-financial and religious importance, testifying to the bride’s virginity and determining the sum indicated in her ketubbah as her right upon termination of the marriage. Passing through town, the entire community could observe the bride. In that context, the role of entertainers and musicians went beyond simple merrymaking, adding the vocal measure to the visual by loudly inviting the community to come and scrutinise the bride as potential witnesses. Musicians and dancers became a standard feature in Jewish wedding celebrations in medieval Ashkenaz, so much so, that in his commentary on Ecclesiastes 3:4, “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance,” Rashi, in the eleventh century, makes a brief comment to something so

195 The issue of dancing in mixed company during weddings, thereby coming in immediate contact with the bride, according to rabbinical writings from Eastern and Western Europe, is discussed by Zvi Freidhaber, “The Dance with the Separating Kerchief,” Dance Research Journal 17, no. 2 (Autumn, 1985): 65–69. It is told, for example, in Pardes Rimonim, written in 1476 by Modechai b. Yechiel in Ashkenaz, that the king of Antioch expressed his will, as ruler, to dance with the bride, while later, after the conclusion of the marriage ceremony, all the invitees sang and danced before the wedded couple. See Zvi Malachi, “Description of a Wedding in the Novel ‘Pardes Rimmonim’ (Ashkenaz, 15th century),” Yeda Am 27, nos. 61–62 (2001): 36, 41–42, 45 (Hebrew). 196 One should bear in mind that the marriage was not considered official before the domum deductio took place, in which the bride was brought to her new home in a festive, public procession. Dick, “The Bridesman,” 338, correctly points out that “most of the words for ‘to marry’ originated in this special ceremony; one of the major terms for the procession (G Brautlauf, OHG Brûtlouft, OE brydhlōp) came to designate the whole wedding . . ..” See also David R. Mace, Hebrew Marriage. A Sociological Study (New York: Philosophical Library, 1953), 180; András Borgó, “Volksinstrumente der jüdischen Landbevökerung in Ostmitteleuropa,” Studia Musicologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae T. 44, Fasc. 1/2 (2003): 181–196, for a much later period; as well as Edward Schröder, “Brautlauf und Tanz,” Zeitschrift für deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 61 (1924): 17–34. 197 A similar role of clothing the bride is assigned to the bridesman and the bride’s friends in the Indo-European culture in general, including covering her with an overcoat. See Dick, “The Bridesman,” 340.

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common that it required no further explanation. Clarifying the words ‫וְ ֵעת ְרקֹוד‬ (“and a time to dance”), he explicitly indicates: “. . . and a time to dance: with bridegrooms and brides.”198 The customs of dancing and playing music for the bride and groom remained the norm in Ashkenaz well into the Early Modern period.199 In his responsa, the seventeenth-century Rabbi Ya’ir Chayim Bacharach of Koblenz, Worms, and Metz, mentions a learned man with musical skills, who asked whether he might play the violin for the bride and groom during their procession to the ḥuppah or during the wedding feast. While Bacharach ruled against playing in principal, as this would be a disgrace to the man’s erudition, the very question illustrates the prevalence of playing music at weddings in that cultural milieu.200 Also in the Nuremberg Miscellany, music and dance are an integral part of the wedding ceremony. Yet, whereas the image of the man playing the lute in the wedding scene on fol. 35r201 is self-explanatory in its context, the dancing couple accompanied by the wolf and bear musicians presents an enigma and requires a probe beyond the Jewish realm.202

198 See also the discourse on the bridal dance in BT Ketubbot 17a, ‫כיצד מרקדין לפני הכלה‬. Note, however, that Midrash Rabbah to Ecclesiastes, Parashah 3, §6 and 11, relates the dance to mourning, as does Midrash Zuta’, Parashah 3. 199 On the importance of music at weddings, see Maharil, Sefer Maharil, Rulings for 'Eruvei Hatzeroth, fol. 40r. Following the death of the local ruler’s wife, Maharil decreed that a bridal couple should marry outside Mainz so that their wedding could be accompanied by music without it being offensive to the king’s regulation that no music be played in his province for a whole year as a sign of mourning. On exceptional occasions, the rabbinic authorities even permitted Jews to engage Christian musicians to play for the bridal couple and the invitees on the day following the wedding. See Hayyim Schauss, The Lifetime of a Jew throughout the Ages of Jewish History (Cincinnati: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1950), 166 and n. 198; as well as Sidney Steiman, Custom and Survival. A Study of the Life and Work of Rabbi Jacob Molin (Moelln) Known as Maharil (c. 1360–1427), and His Influence in Establishing Ashkenazic Minhag (Customs of German Jewry) (New York: Bloch Publishing Company, 1963), 49–50 and n. 27. Cf. Markus J. Wenninger, “Nicht in einem Bett – aber doch auf einer Hochzeit. Zur Teilnahme von Christen an jüdischen Festen im Mittelalter,” in Nicht in einem Bett, 10–17, who presents original documentation on the participation of non-Jews in Jewish weddings. 200 Yair Chayim Bacharach, Havvot Yair §205. 201 Another lute-player at a wedding is part of the scene at the bottom of fol. 12v in the Second Nuremberg Haggadah of around 1470, reproduced in Metzger, Jewish Life, no. 334, and in the “sister” Yahuda Haggadah from Franconia, ca. 1465–1470, fol. 11v. 202 One should note that the bear is mentioned in the Bible and in later Jewish sources only sporadically, typically with negative connotations. See some sources brought by Marvin J. Heller, “The Bear Motif in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Hebrew Books,” Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 102, no. 2 (2008): 341−361.

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The scene on fol. 35v may be an anachronistic allusion to a dance parade that was popular in Nuremberg mainly in the fifteenth century: the Schembartlauf.203 It was performed in honour of the city’s butchers’ and knife-makers’ guilds, who were permitted to perform a pre-Lental dance in the streets of the city, and was still evidenced in the sixteenth century. This dance procession took place in the spring as part of a carnival, characterised by elegant and sophisticated costumes and pageants, even when they were based on folk motifs that were popular mainly outside the local urban setting.204 As the etymology of the words suggests, their nature developed from the masks and beards worn by the celebrants in a festive pageant, who were clad in frightening costumes of demons. After 1475, these dressed-up masked men acquired the designation Schembartläufer (lit. “bearded mask runners”.)205 The Schembartläufer served originally as guards for the dance of the butchers’ guild. A mob of devil masqueraders followed them, terrifying the crowd with their rough, beast-like outfits and the fire and ashes they threw. Thus, they cleared the

203 The Schembart carnival was studied mainly by Samuel Leslie Sumberg, The Nuremberg Schembart Carnival, With Sixty Reproductions from a Manuscript in the Nuremberg Stadtbibliothek (Ms. Nor. K. 444) (New York: Columbia University Press [Columbia University Germanic Studies, New series, no. 12], 1941). See also Jürgen Küster, Spectaculum Vitiorum. Studien zur Intentionalität und Geschichte des Nürnberger Schembart-Laufes (Remscheid: Kirdorf-Verlag, 1983); Hans-Ulrich Roller, Der Nürnberger Schembartlauf. Studien zum Fest- und Maskenwesen des späten Mittelalters (Volksleben. Untersuchungen des Ludwig Uhland-Instituts der Universität Tübingen im Auftrag der Tübinger Vereinigung für Volkskunde, herausgegeben von Hermann Bausinger unter Mitarbeit von Rudolf Schenda und Herbert Schwedt, 11. Band) (Tübingen: Tübinger Vereinigung für Volkskunde, 1965). 204 Our knowledge on the Schembartlauf is based on the existing Schembartbücher (Schembart books), many of which have been studied by Samuel L. Sumberg, “The Nuremberg Schembart Manuscripts,” PMLA (Publication of the Modern Language Association) 44, no. 3 (1929): 863–878. See also Christiane Lauterbach, “Schembartbücher aus der Sammlung Merkel,” Kulturgut 9 (2006): 1-3 205 See the extensive study by Samuel Kinser, “Presentation and Representation: Carnival at Nuremberg, 1450–1550,” Representations 13 (Winter, 1986): 1–41, and the explanation of the nomenclature on 34, n. 8. Similar features, including masquerading and the mummer’s dance, are typical for other kinds of carnivals that were celebrated in Catholic Germany (and in other parts of the world), and described by Jean Amspoker Cole, “Carnival and Social Interaction: A Study of the Upper Social Stratum of a German City,” PhD diss., (Rice University, Houston, Texas, 1973), 31–42. The author (42–44) focuses on Augsburg and deals with the way in which it was celebrated in the sixteenth century. Nowhere, though, does the author mention animal-clad dancing musicians, which seem to be a unique feature of the Schembartlauf of Nuremberg. For another example of a carnival celebration, this time in a rural setting in the Black Forest, see Peter Tokofsky, “A Tale of Two Carnivals: Esoteric and Exoteric Performance in the Fasnet of Elzach,” The Journal of American Folklore 113, no. 450: Holidays, Ritual, Festival, Celebration, and Public Display (Autumn, 2000): 357–377.

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way for a troop of dancers wearing pleasant masks who came leaping through the streets to the rhythmic jingle of strings of bells attached to their clothes. Fife and tabor music accompanied their dance, marking the movement of the dancers and setting the pace of the pageant.206 Although the exact form of the cavalcade, the number of Schembartlauf participants, and the costumes of the dancers changed each year, their main characteristics were constant. According to the illustrations in about eighty surviving books on the Schembartlauf,207 one dominant characteristic was a ringlet of bells worn around one knee or both and another around the waist, sometimes also hung on the dancer’s body (see Figure 137).

Figure 137: Schembartbuch, Nuremberg, ca. 1590 and ca. 1640 [Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford MS. Douce 346], 257v-258r 206 Kinser, “Presentation and Representation,” 5. 207 Most of the Schembartbücher bear no colophon providing the signature of the scribe or artist or the date of production. Some of the early examples are assumed to have been produced around 1524 and 1550, while others should be ascribed to a much later date, down to the eighteenth century. Yet, they all report events that took place between 1449 and 1539—the period in which the Schembartlauf was performed in Nuremberg.

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Admittedly, the scene on fol. 35v of the Nuremberg Miscellany differs in some ways from the common Schembartlauf procession and antedates the final termination of the processions in 1539 by fifty years.208 It is, however, conceivable that it reflects its adaptation and incorporation into the contemporary Jewish custom, in which merrymaking in honour of the bride and groom took a similar external form. It could furthermore indicate that the transition of the entertainment in honour of the bride and groom from the private into the public realm in Jewish practice was inspired by its development in the local non-Jewish society.209 Thirdly, the influence of the Schembartlauf of Nuremberg, whose fame went far beyond the immediate local and temporal perimeters, can account for the depiction of musicians disguised as animals in the manuscript and further illuminate details of the dancing couple’s habit, while shedding light on the particular selection of the musical instruments in the scene. The belt with a bell dangling from it, swaying from the woman’s hand, is reminiscent of strings of bells visible in every depiction of the Schembartläufer in the Nuremberg Schembart carnival miniatures. Similarly, the diagonal brownish stripe painted on the male dancer’s green garment may be an indication of a band of bells, meant to strike a carnival note for the entertainers in the festive event depicted in the Miscellany. Another kind of strap with bells attached onto it was the Schellengürtel (lit. “belt of bells”), which was part of the Schellentracht, a type of costume worn by the court jesters (Hofnarren) along with the feather-adorned Gugel or Kugel hat. In its early form, the Schellentracht was used by the nobility in the High Middle Ages as a positive status symbol. An early fourteenth century wall tapestry hanging showing the love story of William of Orleans and Princess Amelie of England is an exemplary depiction of noblemen wearing various forms of bands of bells in a festive celebtration (see Figure 138). Such accessories became fashionable in the

208 The Schembartlauf was initially banned in 1525, and was celebrated again one last time, in 1539. The festive tradition came to an end following a series of restrictions placed on the manner in which the pageant was celebrated by the Nuremberg preacher Andreas Osiander and his complaint to the city council about it. 209 Michael S. Berger, “Two Models of Medieval Jewish Marriage: A Preliminary Study,” Journal of Jewish Studies 52, no. 1 (spring, 2001), 59–84. Dealing with the development in Ashkenaz in the High Middle Ages and Early Modern Period, especially 78–80, the author emphasizes the tendency towards “standardization and control of its practices” and regarding the marriage as a communal event.

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Figure 138: History of William of Orleans and Amelie of England, wall hanging, Middle Rhine area, 1410–1430 [Frankfurt am Main, Museum für Angewandte Kunst, Inv. No. 6809] (detail) (formerly in the Fürstl. Hohenzollernschen Sammlung Schloss Sigmaringen)]

second half of the fourteenth century in German cities, despite local attempts to minimise presentations of indulgence (Luxusverbot).210 Gradually it went out of fashion and remained in use exclusively by court jesters. The bell thus became a symbol of vulgarity and was attached all over the jesters’ clothes, often including

210 In another context, a belt of bells is an iconographic attribute of the black St. Maurice (Mauritius von Agaunum, a.k.a. ‘Schellenmoritz’), the alleged builder of the Moritzkirche in Halle a.d. Saale. His sculpture, located in the local Moritzkirche, was made by Conrad v. Limbeck in 1411. See https://www.flickr.com/photos/68282140@N04/16741190251 (accessed 27 February 2020). Similarly, a painted stone sculpture of Kaspar the moor, the youngest of the three Magi, placed atop a column in the Mohrenbrunnen on Fronwagplatz in Schaffhausen, Switzerland, is fitted with straps of bells around his knees and elbows. See https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mohrenbrunnen_(Schaffhausen)#/media/File:Schaffhausen_Mohrenbrunnen_Figur.jpg (accessed 27 February 2020).

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a strap of bells carried like a bandolier crosswise over the chest and back,211 comparable to the one worn by the male dancer in the Nuremberg Miscellany. A similar custom is, perhaps, implied in a fifteenth-century responsum, Terumat haDeshen by R. Israel Isserlein. The issue at hand has to do with a belt that a certain Reuben hired from Simeon in order to wear it on his hip during a wedding entertainment.212 Reuben indulged in dance at that wedding, wearing the belt on his hip, when he was asked by a certain unmarried woman to lend it to her for two or three dances. Reuben agreed to do so, under the condition that she would marry him with this belt. Returning the belt after the dances, Reuben gave the woman the belt in front of witnesses, thereby, in fact, espousing her. In all likelihood, Isserlein refers here to a belt used specifically for such joyous events, adorned with bells such as those worn by the Hofnarren for their dance.213 In most other respects, and in the absence of comparative images with similar iconography, the illustration of the entertainers in the Nuremberg Miscellany is unique in Jewish art. While the rabbinic sources remain vague about the particulars of the Early Modern Jewish wedding pageant and dance, a short non-Jewish text offers a missing link. A near-contemporary of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the Synagoga Iudaica (Basel, 1603) is the aforementioned compendium of Jewish customs by Johannes Buxtorf. Buxtorf’s description of the Jewish wedding includes references to music and dance performed before the bride, associated with a midrash mentioned in the Talmud,214 according to which “God himself made braids for Eve in Paradise, sang to her, and danced with her.” Buxtorf explains (in the English translation), While the women are combing her head (!), they expresse a great deal of mirth and jollity, skipping, singing, laughing, dancing . . . And that the women may more easily believe it, that God did the like to Eve, when she was to be given to Adam, plaiting her hair, dressing her

211 For one of the early works on the Hofnarren, see, for example, Karl Friedrich Flögel, Geschichte der Hofnarren (Liegnitz: David Giesert, 1789). Flögel discusses the habit of the Hofnarren on 51–74 and deals at length specifically with the bells on 61–74. Cf. also Werner Mezger, Hofnarren im Mittelalter. Vom tieferen Sinn eines seltsamen Amtes (Konstanz: Universitätsverlag Konstanz, 1981); and Jan Taussig, Hofnarren im Mittelalter, Hausarbeit im Fachbereich ältere Deutsche Literaturwissenschaften der Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main (Munich: GRIN, 1999), including a description of the dress code on 6. 212 “Reuben” and “Simeon” are the Jewish version of the generic use of names, such as “Peter borrows from Paul.” 213 Israel Isserlein, Terumat haDeshen (Warsaw, 1882), §210. See also Shlomo Eidelberg, Jewish Life in Austria in the XVth Century as Reflected in the Legal Writings of Rabbi Israel Isserlein and His Contemporaries (Philadelphia: Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning, 1962), 73–74. 214 BT Niddah 45b. See also a hint to that effect in 'Eruvin 18b.

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head with locks, and also did sing, foot it, and dance with her in Paradise, which they strive to prove out of the words of Moses, And he brought her to Adam [Genesis 2:22], as though he had brought her skipping, and leading the dance, as a Bride is now wont to be brought to her husband.215

At least a partial explanation for the image on fol. 35v of the manuscript comes from slightly further in Buxtorf’s description: It is recorded also in Pirke Eliezer (!), that God attended upon Adam and Eve like Servingman while the marriage was in finishing, and that he made the Canopie with his own hands under which they were to receive the blessing, that the Angels became the Minstrels, playing divers tunes upon Trumpets, Pipes, and other instruments, that Adam, Eve, and God himself might dance.216

It should be noted that of all the illustrations in the Nuremberg Miscellany, only the figures of the animal-clad musicians were left uncoloured. Could they be symbolic representations of the angels that sang and danced before Adam and Eve, as in Eli'ezer? In an exposition on Ezek 28:13, the midrash relates that “The Holy One, blessed be He, made ten wedding canopies for Adam in the Garden of Eden. . . The angels were playing upon timbrels and dancing with pipe, as it is said, ‘The workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was with thee’” 217 The fife and drum feature frequently in post-Reformation Christian wedding rituals.218 Speaking of weddings in Augsburg, Bavaria, Lyndel Roper argues that The public wedding processions to the church and the new home of the couple—“going to church and street”—accompanied by the music of pipe and drum, were perhaps socially

215 Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 290. Buxtorf is, in fact, quoting from midrash Tanḥuma. See the Buber edition, Parashat Vayyera §4, s.v. ‫ד'א וירא‬, or Midrash Aggadah (Buber), Gen. chap. 18, s.v. ‫וירא אליו‬. For the German text, see Synagoga Iudaica, 578: “Da nun Moses deutlich nit mit dunckeln wortē redt/ Vṅ Gott bawete auβ derselbē Rippen/ die er auβ Adam genoṁen hatte/ ein Weib/ und fůhrete sie zu Adam/ daβ muβ nacht der hochweisen Rabbinē verstand heisse/ Gott habe der Eve Zỏpffe gemacht/ und sie mit springen und tantzen zu Adam gefůhrt.” 216 Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 290 . This reference does not appear in the original German text and is probably the translator’s own insertion. See also the custom in Jewish Catalunia, as related by R. Menaḥem haMe’iri (1249–1315), Beit haBeḥirah (Commentary) to Soṭah, 47a. On the wedding dance in Central Europe, see mainly Richard Wolfram, Die Volkstänze in Österreich und verwandte Tänze in Europa (Salzburg: Otto Müller, 1951), 98–100, 103–104, 108, 118–119, 122–123. See also I. von Düringsfeld and O. Freiherr von Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Hochzeitsbuch, Brauch und Glaube der Hochzeit bei den Christlichen Völkern Europa’s (Leipzig: J. G. Bach, 1871), 117, 126, 140–141, 187. 217 Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, chap. 12, 10. See Pirke d’Rabbi Eli'ezer (Friedlander), 88–89. 218 Praetorius, Syntagma musicum, panel XXIII, nos. 2 (drum) and 3 (fife).

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more significant than the service at the church,219 to such extent that the Augsburg city council imposed a fine of 100 Gulden for holding “non-public marriages”220

The similarities between the sixteenth-century customs of the Reformed Church and those of the Jews in Southern Germany are striking. Although the origin of such processions was neither Christian nor Jewish, both religious groups have incorporated into them folk custom and rituals. The insistence on entertainment and music, specifically by fife and drum—played by the bear-and-wolf musicians depicted on fol. 35v in the Nuremberg Miscellany—is of particular importance in this context. It seems, therefore, that the scene on fol. 35v is a composite depiction of a wedding procession, led by entertainers and musicians, following ancient Jewish custom and traces of midrash. The animal-clad musicians and the dancers, with their unique iconographic features, represent the troops of dancers frolicking in the streets to the rhythm of bells worn on their clothing and the music of fife and tabor, reminiscent of the local Schembartlauf carnival.221 While the carnival itself was banned in Nuremberg in 1539, precisely fifty years before the completion of the Nuremberg Miscellany as mentioned earlier,222 the Nuremberg burghers and other Schembartlauf fans kept its memory very much alive in oral, literary, and visual renditions for decades despite the ban. In fact, the earliest literary reference to the Schembartlauf came from the poet Hans Sachs in Der Scheinpart-Spruch in 1548, nine years after its annulment, and other descriptions are dated as late

219 Roper, “Going to Church,” 65–66. On the significance of the public procession see N. Belmont, “The Symbolic Function of the Wedding Procession in the Popular Rituals of Marriage,” in Ritual, Religion, and the Sacred: Selections from the Annales – Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations, ed. Robert Forster and Orest Ranum, trans. Elborg Forster and Patricia M. Ranum (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982), vol. 7, 1–7. 220 Roper, “Going to Church,” 68 and nn. 19–20. That the wedding song-dance, the “Brauttanz,” had a long tradition in European culture, can be surmised from a reference made by the Gallo-French rhetor Appolinarius Sidonius in 460 CE, in which he mentions such a dance performed by heathen Germanic Franks in France. See Richard Wolfram, “European Song-Dance Forms,” Journal of the International Folk Music Council 8 (1956): 32–36. 221 Humans masked as animals featured in other festive events, such as in the mythologicalthemed wedding festivity of Archduke Charles and Maria of Bavaria in 1571. Part of the merrymaking was an entourage of Diana, goddess of the hunt, the moon and childbirth, accompanied by riders dressed up as various wild animals: lions, panthers, bears, and wolves—all of them riders in costume. See Robert Lindell, “The Wedding of Archduke Charles and Maria of Bavaria in 1571,” Early Music 18, no. 2 (1990): 265 and n. 57. 222 Without doubt, the Reformation was constructive in bringing an end to this tradition. The last procession took place after an interim of sixteen years in which it was not celebrated.

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as the seventeenth century and beyond.223 Portrayals of the Nuremberg carnival from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were often on sale at the Nuremberg market place, keeping it in folk reminiscence for generations.224 Thus, banned and abandoned, the Schembartlauf, with its special festivity and flair, was still an essential part of local culture, Christian and Jewish alike. Moreover, the inclusion of details directly deriving from the original celebration in the Nuremberg Miscellany’s iconography seems to propose, once again, an affinity to Nuremberg or its environs, where this tradition was still part of the communal memory in the late sixteenth century. As such, the illustration of the musicians and dancers is another reflection of the influence of the surrounding society on the Jews and the reception of its folk customs into (local) Jewish life.225

223 Sumberg, Nuremberg Schembart Carnival, 3. 224 Ibid., 18. 225 On the affinity to Nuremberg and the local rulers, see above, 81–86.

Chapter 10 A New Jewish Life Entering the Covenant of Circumcision The ruling to “be fruitful and multiply” is regarded as the first commandment of the Bible.1 The Mishnah further states: “. . . was not the world created for the sake of procreation.”2 Its goal, however, is to fulfil the biblical injunction of proliferation while avoiding adversity as much as possible. Yet danger may befall both mother and child upon this first rite of passage in human life. Jewish attitude to childbirth therefore revolves around these two axes—of joy on the one hand and of fear and vulnerability on the other. The following text from the medieval midrash Yeẓirat haValad includes a short homily on the perils facing the emergence of a new human being, from conception to birth:3 For the first three days, one should pray to God that the infant would not decompose; from the third to the fortieth days he should pray that it would be a male; from the fortieth day to the end of three months, he should pray that it would not be a sandal;4 and from three months to six months, he should pray that it would not be a still-born; and from the sixth to the ninth months he should pray that the baby would be born safely. And can a man bring the baby out safely? No, rather the Holy One, Blessed be He creates for the infant doors and hinges and brings him out safely.5

In the Jewish religious context, the birth of a boy differs in many ways from that of a girl, in both halakhah and minhag.6 While some rituals are of ancient origin, 1 Gen 1:28. 2 M. Gittin 4:5 and 'Eduyot 1:13. The translation is found in Rochelle L. Millen, Women, Birth, and Death in Jewish Law and Practice (Hanover: Brandeis University Press, 2004), 15. 3 Jellinek, Bet haMidrash, Bd. 1, XXVII, no. XVII, text on 153–158. The quotation is also found in Eisenstein, Otsar Midrashim, vol. 1, 243–245. 4 BT Niddah 25b: “Our Rabbis taught: A sandal is like a sea-fish [of the same name]. At first it is a normal foetus but later it is crushed.” 5 Quoted from Elisheva Baumgarten, Mothers and Children: Jewish Family Life in Medieval Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004), 21. See the original Hebrew text in Eisenstein, Otsar Midrashim, vol. 1, 244. Raphael Patai, ‬On Jewish Folklore (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1983), deals with the folk customs meant to protect both the mother and her offspring in various parts of the Jewish diaspora, 395–412. 6 Gender reading into the circumcision is extensively discussed by Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, and Eva Frojmovic, “Reframing Gender in Medieval Jewish Images of Circumcision,” in Framing the Family. Narrative and Representation in the Medieval and Early Modern Periods, ed. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-011

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others have evolved throughout the generations in various parts of the Jewish Diaspora and often took in elements from the non-Jewish world. Thus, many customs surrounding birth that belong to the category of folklore, folk belief, and folk art are not originally Jewish but embraced from the local cultural surroundings.7 Within the cycle of Jewish life dispersed in the leaves of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the description of the circumcision extends from the benedictions recited on that event on fol. 37r, to the midrashic regulations and a compilation of the relevant customs on fols. 38v-39r. Interrupted by various kiddushim (benedictions; plur. of kiddush) for Rosh Ḥodesh and the Pilgrimage Festivals, the text continues with the rituals of kapparot and Birkat haGomel (blessing for surviving an illness or danger). Only on fol. 43v does it turn again to childbirth and to the baby-naming celebration of the Hollekreisch.8 The reason for the compiler’s disconnection between the two ceremonies remains elusive. Presumably, he wanted to make a clear distinction between the public, religious ritual of circumcision, which, in Europe, was carried out in the synagogue since the Middle Ages,9 and the secular Hollekreisch folk rite that is celebrated in the private domain. He was certainly well aware of the differing origins of the rites and also of the impact of the obligation or custom to perform them. He therefore deliberately separated the indigenous Jewish covenantal ritual from the practice of baby naming, which most likely had been inspired by local German folklore and adapted for the Jewish home festivity.10 Although the Nuremberg Miscellany belongs to a rather late age of Hebrew manuscript production in Ashkenaz, long after the invention of printing and the nascence of production of printed books in Hebrew, it contains several unique representations that are rarely found in earlier codices. One of these, on fol. 36v, shows a composite circumcision scene—one of the earliest of its kind. A survey of the history of circumcision scenes in Ashkenazi manuscripts is crucial for understanding the importance and innovation of the illustration in the Miscellany.

Rosalynn Voaden and Diane Wolfthal (Temple, AZ: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005), 221–243. 7 The Christian attitude towards circumcision has been summarised by Michael Signer, “To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Circumcision in Pagan Antiquity and the Christian Middle Ages,” in Berit Mila in the Reform Context, ed. Lewis Barth ([New York?]: Berit Mila Board of Reform Judaism, 1990), 111–127. 8 See 373–396. 9 Gradually, the private event assumed a more formal quality and moved to the public realm, to be celebrated in the synagogue in the presence of a minyan – a religious quorum. This change is first documented in the eighth century, as recorded in Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, 8:19. See also Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 106–107. 10 This distinction, so clearly pronounced in the Nuremberg Miscellany, had been argued on the general level by Frojmovic, “Reframing Gender,” 221.

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 351

In analysing the depictions of the circumcision, one must bear in mind that, in general, despite the fact that they are abbreviated and clearly imbued with a certain degree of symbolism, the images must nonetheless be considered as a reflection of historical realities, especially when it comes to the existence or absence of key elements or protagonists in the scene. As will be shown later, the analysis pursued in this study is categorically different from the argument proposed by Eva Frojmovic, that . . . the images are not unmediated records of reality at all, but symbolic representations, which reveal fault lines inviting us to reconsider specific historical questions about identity, agency, and viewership. The images under discussion make ideological claims and register traces of cultural struggles, such as the changing roles of women in the circumcision ritual.11

The earliest known illustration of a circumcision scene from the Germanic cultural realm is found in the Laud Maḥzor from Southern Germany, probably from around 1250–1260.12 The illustration is appended to the piyyuṭ for the Ne'ilah liturgy of Yom Kippur, (‫ ָאב יְ ָד ֲעָך ִמנ ַֹער‬Av Yeda'akha miNo'ar),13 composed in Eretz Israel by Ele'azar haQalir (ca. 570–ca. 640).14 The contextual interpretation of the piyyuṭ, which alludes to Abraham circumcising his son Isaac,15 suggests reading the image accordingly, namely that it is, indeed, a portrayal of Abraham and the

11 Op. cit., 223. 12 Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Ms. Laud Or. 321, fol. 303r, reproduced in Sed-Ranja, Mahzor enluminé, pl. XXIV, fig. 48, and description on 64–66, with bibliographic references on 66. For comparison with circumcision portrayals from the non-Jewish world, see Henry Abramson and Carrie Hannon, “Depicting the Ambiguous Wound: Circumcision in Medieval Art,” in The Covenant of Circumcision. New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, ed. Elisabeth Wyner Mark (Lebanon, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003), 98–113; and Elisheva Baumgarten, “Circumcision and Baptism: The Development of a Jewish Ritual in Christian Europe,” in ibid., 114–127. See also idem, “Marking the Flesh: Circumcision, Blood, and Inscribing Identity on the Body in Medieval Jewish Culture,” Micrologus 13 (2005), 313–330. 13 The liturgical hymn, beginning with the words ‫“( ָאב יְ ָד ֲעָך ִמּנ ַֹער‬the Father who knew you from the time of your youth”) is a qedushta (piyyuṭ for the first three benedictions of the 'amidah) for Ne'ilah). See Daniel Goldschmidt, Mahazor laYamim haNora’im Lefi Minhagei Benei Ashkenaz (Jerusalem: Koren, 5730/1970), vol. 2, 728–732 (Hebrew). See also Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, no. 47. Davidson, however, erroneously describes it as a “qerovah.” The qedushta was formerly ascribed to Simeon b. Isaac b. Avun (Mainz, tenth–eleventh century). I owe the information on the qedushta to Prof. Elisabeth Hollender, who also kindly shared with me her interpretation of the piyyuṭ. 14 Ele'azar haQalir was one of the earliest and most prolific of the liturgical poets. Many of his hymns have been incorporated into festive prayers of the Ashkenazi Jews’ synagogal rite. 15 Gen 21: 3–4.

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infant Isaac.16 Without going into the symbolic significance of the extraordinary inclusion of a circumcision scene as part of this particular initial word decoration in the maḥzor, the scene itself is of little value for our discussion. In its extremely general iconography, it focuses on the performance of the act itself by a man, presumably Abraham, depicted frontally. He seems to be sitting on a chair, with the infant on his lap. Furthermore, the two figures are positioned in an awkward, unconvincing manner in relation to one another, with the circumciser inconveniently looking away from the infant’s member. In fact, he is officiating as both the sandaq (from the Greek σύντεκνος, “child’s companion”)17 and circumciser at the same time—two roles that, by nature, are performed by two different personages.18 The sandaq is entrusted with holding the infant on his lap, thereby assisting the mohel during the operation. Barely half a century later, around 1300, the representation of this rite of passage appeared in the southern German Regensburg Pentateuch,19 following Parashat Vayyera (Genesis 18:1–22:24), which tells the story of the Binding of Isaac (see Figure 139).20 In a multi-scene full-page panel, divided into two registers,21

16 The piyyuṭ does not explicitly mention the circumcision, but refers to “the heat of the day” (‫)ּכחֹם ַהּיֹום‬, ְ an expression included in the description of the visit of the heavenly messengers to Abraham (Gen 18:1). The reading of the image, therefore, is not unequivocal, but is rather founded on contextual exegesis and midrashic tradition. 17 Although the term ba'al brit (Master of the Covenant [of Circumcision]) is commonly used in Ashkenaz for this function, the designation “sandaq,” also found in medieval and Early Modern Ashkenazi sources, is preferred here due to its appearance in the superscript of the illustration in the manuscript, and the fact that this is the nomenclature more frequently used by modern scholars. The question of terminology is discussed by Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, 65–77. The term “ba'al brit” is founded on Mal 3:1, a verse that speaks of Elijah the Prophet: “Behold, I send My messenger, and he shall clear the way before Me; and the Lord, whom ye seek, will suddenly come to His temple, and the messenger of the covenant, in whom ye delight, behold, he cometh, saith the Lord of hosts.” According to tradition, Elijah is present in every cirucumcision, as will be explained later. The expression ba'al brit as designation of Elijah appears, inter alia, by Isaac b. Moshe, Or Zaru'a, part II, §107 in the name of R. Sherira’ Ga’on, quoted in Benjamin Manasseh Lewin, ed., Otzar haGeonim (Haifa: Mossad Harav Kook, 1928–1930) (M. Shabbat, Responsa §424, 139) (Hebrew). 18 Commenting on Gen 50:23, “. . . also the sons of Machir the son of Manasseh were born on the knees of Joseph,” Targum Pseudo-Jonathan translates: “. . . also when the sons of Machir the son of Manasseh were born, Joseph circumcised them,” implying that Joseph circumcised them while they were on his lap, as a sandaq. Whether or not this tradition influenced the artist of the Laud Maḥzor is a matter that goes beyond the discussion here. 19 Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/052, B05.0009, fol. 18v. 20 The inscription ‫( חיי שרה‬Ḥayyei Sarah, Gen 23:1–25:18)—the name of the subsequent Torah portion, which appears above the full-page illustration, is a later addition—not by the scribe’s hand. 21 The bottom scene shows the Binding of Isaac—the climax of the Torah portion.

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 353

Figure 139: Regensburg Pentateuch, Regensburg, Bavaria, Germany, ca. 1300 [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/052; B05.0009], fol. 18v (Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama)

the upper image shows a group of women,22 one of whom is bringing an infant into what seems to be a synagogue for circumcision.23 Inside the synagogue, the sandaq is sitting on a bench,24 his feet resting on a footstool, with the infant on

22 The complete interpretation of this scene exceeds the scope of this study. See, however, the argumentation by Frojmovic, “Reframing Gender,” 227–238. Compare an alternative reading of the circumcision as it was conceived of in the Middle Ages, by Simha Goldin, 'Alamot Ahevukha, 'Al-Mot Ahevukha (The Ways of Jewish Martyrdom) (Lod: Dvir, 2002), 172–179 (Hebrew). 23 Typically, medieval synagogues in Ashkenaz had a special door connecting the women’s section to the main prayer-hall, through which the godmother would bring in the child to be circumcised. See Sefer Maharil, §22, 487 (Hebrew). This entrance was known in the vernacular as Jiddisch-Tür/Tir or Jiddisch-Türchen/Tirchen. It is mentioned, for example, by Yuzpi (Juspa), the synagogue beadle from Worms in the seventeenth century. See Eidelberg, R. Juspa, 101 and nn. 7–8, as well as idem, Medieval Ashkenazic History, 117–153. Cf. Hamburger and Zimmer, Minhagim de-K.K. §240, 70. 24 Benches were habitually used for sitting until the Early Modern period, along with the chest and the stool, while chairs were mainly reserved for members of the higher social strata, such as royalty, clergy and nobility. Only from the sixteenth century did they became commonplace also for other members of society.

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his lap, while the circumciser is bending over the child, performing the ritual. As prescribed in various halakhic regulations, the mohel is standing,25 while the sandaq is sitting on the single seat depicted in the scene. A rather unique depiction of childbirth appears in a North Italian Yiddish customal book dated to ca. 1503, representing the Ashkenazic custom.26 Whereas the text of the manuscript treats the ritual of circumcision in great detail, it does not include an image of the actual act but only of the lying-in of the parturient mother. She is shown confined to her bed with the infant next to her, while another woman is attending to it. A woman servant displays wine and food, alluding to a festive meal.27 Chronologically, the Nuremberg Miscellany provides the third known image of an actual circumcision scene from the Ashkenazi realm. The illustration precedes the textual “chapter” on circumcision in the manuscript. It is enclosed within a frame—the only one in the manuscript—and represents the ceremony in detail.28 As elsewhere in the manuscript, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany chose to depict only the protagonists, the furniture, and the furnishings necessary for the beholder to be able to decipher the scene. Indeed, the iconographic attributes of each figure were carefully selected, and, in this case, captions identifying them were added as well (see Figure 140). Three protagonists occupy the centre of the panel. Seated on an elaborate high-backed chair, the crowned sandaq holds the infant on his lap, while the circumciser performs the procedure. Inscriptions in semi-cursive script identify the circumciser (‫ּמֹוהל‬ ֵ ‫)ה‬ ַ and the sandaq (‫)סנדיק‬,29 respectively. A woman standing 25 Some references to this custom are found in Elfenbein, Sefer Minhagim, 80–81. 26 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, ms. Héb. 586, fol. 115v. See Zofja Ameisenowa, “An Illustrated Manual of Ritual From the Late Middle Ages (Paris Or. 586),” Tarbiz 28 (1959): 197–200 (Hebrew); and, more recently, Diane Wolfthal, Picturing Yiddish: Gender, Identity, and Memory in the Illustrated Yiddish Books of Renaissance Italy (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 49–50 and 247. 27 Ibid., fig. 63. 28 Like the arches containing the moralistic text at the beginning of the book and the one marking the commencement of the liturgical part of the manuscript, the frame of the circumcision scene is also an indicator of the special importance of the image enclosed in it. 29 The unusual spelling of the word ‫סנדיק‬, which should read ‫ ַסנְ ָּדק‬in the modern Hebrew orthography, may be a result of a Yiddishism, in which the word would be pronounced as “sandeq” with the stress on the first syllable rather than on the last, as the Hebrew pronunciation demands. One should note, however, that the term was not spelled uniformly in Ashkenaz, with a number of variations used concurrently. Alternatively, what seems prima facie to be a diversion from the normative orthography may be a somewhat corrupted derivative of the Latin “syndacus,” a term that has penetrated and been incorporated into Jewish texts, such as Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Ps §723, s.v. ‫ ;יהי דרכם‬or Midrash Tehillim (midrash to Psalms, also called Midrash Shoḥer Ṭov) 35:2. See Hillel I. Newman, “Sandak and Godparent in Midrash and Medieval Practice,” The Jew-

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 355

Figure 140: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 36v-37r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

on the right holds in her right hand a tall object placed in a vase-shaped vessel. A small chair is situated at the far left with the inscription ‫( ִּכ ֵּסא ֶׁשל ֵא ִלּיָ הּו‬Elijah’s chair) above it (see Figure 141). The illustration in the Miscellany provides no architectural clue for locating the scene in the privacy of a home or at a synagogue. Conversely, the secondary text of the circumcision liturgy does place the ceremony within the synagogue. Historically, the ritual was a private family affair and, like the wedding, was ultimately moved to the public realm. The culmination of this process was probably in the ninth century,30 although later evidence from various parts of the Jewish Diaspora indicates that this was not the case everywhere. In Germany, ish Quarterly Review 97, no. 1 (Winter, 2007): 10–14. See a similar spelling in the fourteenth century in Avraham Klausner, Sefer Minhagim leRabenu Avraham Kloizner (Jerusalem: Mif'al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 5766/2005–2006), §147, 134 and ibid., no. 15: ‫סנדיקים‬ ‫( שקורין קואטיר פי' בעל ברית‬Hebrew). Compare also reference to the spelling of the word ‫שתדלין‬ above, 49, n. 96. 30 As suggested by Schauss, Lifetime of a Jew, 34–37.

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Figure 141: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 36v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

for example, the custom was to hold it at the synagogue,31 although it seems to have been acceptable to conduct it at home as well. Such practice is reported by Johannes Buxtorf in his meticulous study of Jewish rites and rituals, Synagoga Iudaica, who says: “This is done either in the Synagogue, or common School, or in some private Conclave.”32 An intriguing iconographic detail appears in the portrayal of the sandaq. Unlike the earlier examples of circumcision scenes, in the Miscellany he is wearing a coronet. This can be explained in two ways: associative allusion and midrash. The allusion is to special traits required from the person appointed to serve as sandaq. R. Isaac b. Moses of Vienna, one of the greatest halakhic authorities in medieval Ashkenaz, author of Or Zaru'a, discusses the need to search after a “worthy man” for this role (actually using the alternative term “ba'al brit”).33

31 Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 106, proposes that this was part of a general trend in the Christian European society. 32 Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 46; Synagoga Iudaica, 108: “.  .  . entweder in der gemeinē Synagog oder Schulen/ oder daheim . . .” 33 Isaac b. Moses of Vienna, Or Zaru'a, part II, Rulings for Circumcision, §107, s.v. ‫)ה(מנהג‬. See also above, 347, n. 17.

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Maharil (Jacob b. Moses Möllin), who lived in the second half of the fourteenth and early fifteenth century, is more explicit: not only must the man honoured as sandaq be an observant Jew, but his status is considered superior to that of the mohel, granting him priority in being called up for the Torah reading.34 The relative social stratification of the protagonists taking part in the act of circumcision echoes R. Simeon’s words in M. Avot: “Rabbi Simeon would say: There are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of sovereignty, [but] the crown of [a] good name is superior to them all.”35 The supremacy of the metaphoric “crown of good name” may have led the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany to place a crown, or rather a coronet, on the head of the sandaq, symbolising his merit to enjoy the honour. An entirely different alternative source of inspiration for the artist may have been founded on a conjoined biblical-midrashic exegesis. A midrash on Isaac’s circumcision says: “He who hands his son over for circumcision is like the High Priest who makes his offering and libation on top of the altar.”36 The description of the daily offerings in Leviticus 6:14–15 makes no mention of any specific attire for the officiating priest. It seems, however, that the coronet illustrated in the manuscript is a allusion to another biblical quote. By means of mental association, the artist was reminded of the passage describing the habit of the High Priest. The miẓnefet (‫מ ְצנֶ ֶפת‬, ִ turban) was a headgear worn by all the Temple priests, but only the High Priest had a ẓiẓ (‫ציץ‬, ִ frontlet), a golden plate inscribed with the words '‫ק ֶֹדש ָלה‬, or “Consecrated to the Lord” (Exodus 28:36), attached to his miẓnefet by a blue lace. The High Priest wore the ẓiẓ whenever he ministered in the Tabernacle or in the Temple of Jerusalem.37 While in Exodus 39:31 the ẓiẓ is described as a plate with holes in its four corners for the blue cords to be threaded through it in order to fasten it onto the High Priest’s miẓnefet, two other sources explicitly refer to the ẓiẓ as a “holy crown.”38

34 Yitzhak Sats, ed., Sh.U.T Maharil ha-Hadashot leRabenu Ya'akov Molin (Jerusalem: Mif'al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 1977), responsum no. 85, 33 (Hebrew). 35 M. Avot 4:13. 36 Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat Bereshit §81. 37 The ordinance of the ẓiẓ is found in Exod 28:36–38 as follows: “You shall make a plate of pure gold and engrave on it, like the engraving of a signet, ʻHoly to the Lord. And you shall fasten it on the turban by a cord of blue. It shall be on the front of the turban. It shall be on Aaronʼs forehead, and Aaron shall bear any guilt from the holy things that the people of Israel consecrate as their holy gifts. It shall regularly be on his forehead, that they may be accepted before the Lord.” 38 These texts are found in Exod 39:30: “They made the plate of the holy crown of pure gold, and wrote upon it a writing, like the engravings of a signet: Consecrated to the Lord”; and Lev 8:9: “He set the mitre upon his head; and upon the mitre, in the front, he set the golden plate, the holy crown, as the Lord had commanded Moses.”

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It is conceivable that the artist had these verses in mind in his portrayal of the sandaq, given his fondness of frequently interweaving numerous layers of exegesis and midrash into his illustrations. Juxtaposing them with the midrash that equates the father who circumcises his son with the High Priest, he further identified the person holding the infant on his lap as the father, while specifying his function in the ceremony as that of the sandaq, as inscribed above his head. Thus, he attached a threefold iconographic identity to one protagonist: father, sandaq, and the High Priest. Along with the mohel, the sandaq, and the infant, the artist depicted also the image of a woman, on the right-hand side.39 Her inclusion in the illustration showing the circumcision scene on fol. 36v of the Nuremberg Miscellany presents a totally different portrait of a woman’s active role in the circumcision, unlike their presence in the aforementioned image in the Regensburg Pentateuch. Attendance of women in the main hall of the synagogue during the ceremony is documented in writing in a responsum of R. Meir of Rothenburg (Maharam, ca. 1215–1293), in which he objects to a custom of circumcising an infant on a woman’s lap.40 Citing this authority a generation later, Maharil condemns those who approve of the presence of women in the synagogue hall during the circumcision.41 Both examples indicate that this custom must have been well rooted, and it was precisely for that reason that the rabbis set out to ban it. Over a century later, the image in the Nuremberg Miscellany suggests that the woman standing to the right belongs to a different space, setting, and time than that in which the actual rite of circum39 Compare her outfit and hairdo with that of the woman bringing in household utensils to be cleansed and purified for Passover in Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, fol. 18r. 40 The text, according to the translation in Frojmovic, “Reframing Gender,” 235, n. 27, reads: “I am not at all in favour of the technically permissible custom that one finds in most places: namely, that a woman sits in the synagogue among the men, and they circumcise the baby on her lap. Even if the mohel is her husband, or her father or her son, it is not appropriate to allow a beautifully dressed-up woman to be among the men and right there in the presence of God.” Later in his responsum, Maharam actually alludes to that particular woman as the mother of the newborn child, saying “. . . with respect to the principle of circumcision, she is not commanded to circumcise even her own son . . . If so, how could it possibly be that they circumcise children on her lap, thus snatching away the commandment [=miẓvah] from the men?” See Isaac Zeeb Kahana, ed., [Rabbi Meir ben Rabbi Barukh mi-Rothenburg], Teshuvot, Perushim uMinhagim (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1960), 2:149, Responsa section, par. 155 (Hebrew). 41 In his words: “Regarding a woman who is the ba'alat berit, Maharam wrote that she should take the child from his mother in order to bring him to the synagogue for his circumcision. She should bring him as far as the synagogue door, but [he] should not be circumcised on her lap. A woman should not walk among the men, on account of the need to maintain modesty.” See translation in Frojmovic, “Reframing Gender,” 236, and a discussion on the role of women as circumcisers, 242, n. 40 in particular.

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cision is taking place. She seems to be taking part in the circumcision only as an adjunct to the ritual, and perhaps at a different time altogether. The woman in the Miscellany holds what looks like a very long pestle with a hook atop, set in a large mortar that is placed on the floor. If this reading is correct, the scene portrays a woman preparing the disinfectant styptic powder to apply to the infant’s wound. A near contemporary mortar, made of bronze, was manufactured around 1550, probably in Nuremberg by the famous artist Wenzel Jamnitzer (see Figure 142). It measures only 12.5 cm in height, with a lip diameter of 16.5 cm. Another object of comparison was made in Innsbruck by Caspar Gras in 1617.42 It is 37 cm tall and 27 cm in diameter. Larger mortars were produced as well, reaching a height of 50 cm and beyond.43

Figure 142: Mortar, Nuremberg: Wenzel Jamnitzer, ca. 1550 [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Accession Number 2016.492 (Anna-Maria and Stephen Kellen Acquisitions Fund, 2016)]

The mortar and pestle used by the woman in the illustration seem to represent a household object used to grind spices, sugar, and various other foodstuffs, albeit somewhat disproportionately. Such utensils were also used to pulverise medicinal ingredients. At the time the manuscript was compiled, members of the middle class and higher ranks used to blend the ingredients for their own pharmaceutical 42 The mortar, which was the property of Hans Daunhauser, is currently in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. R 3247, shown in Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 166. See also, for example, the 31.8 cm-high bronze mortar made in Austria around 1525, currently in New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Irwin Untermeyer, 1964, no. 64.101.1541. 43 Hermann Peters, Die historische-pharmazeutische und chemische Sammlung im Germanischen Nationalmuseum zu Nürnberg (Nuremberg: U.E. Sebald, 1913) 64, fig. 15, showing the “Historische Apotheke im Germanischen Nationalmuseums.” See also 69, fig. 20, for an image of an apothecary by H. v. Winterstein.

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formulae. In the manuscript, the woman is probably preparing the therapeutic remedies necessary to hasten the healing of the circumcised infant. The halakhah concerning the circumcision is very clear on the importance of the medical precautions involved. According to Jewish law, if, for some reason, the powder had not been prepared ahead of time for a circumcision that was to take place on Shabbat, this must be done ad hoc or by a non-Jew, for the sake of the infant’s welfare.44 Reference to the use of medicinal herbs to speed the healing of the wound and to the permission to prepare them even on Shabbat, if need be, appears as early as the Mishnah: “If this [cumin] had not been powdered up on the eve of Shabbat a man may chew it with his teeth and then apply it” without violating the laws of Shabbat.45 The earliest known treatise on circumcision rules and rituals was written in Ashkenaz by Ya'aqov haGozer and his son Gershom in the thirteenth century.46 Among other issues, the author describes the various medications and ointments that should be applied onto the wound. Like the Mishnah, it pays special attention to cases in which the preparation of the prescription had not been completed before a festival or Shabbat. Furthermore, the author insists that the infant’s health supersedes the violation of the holy day.47 Thus, the woman holding the pestle in her hand in the manuscript may indeed be grinding and mixing ingredients for the powder. No written source, whether in Christian or Jewish writings, however, explicitly mentions women in that role, even in an emergency case as described by Ya'aqov haGozer. The wellbeing of the infant has always been considered of prime importance. This includes keeping his body at an appropriate temperature. The tall object resembling a pestle may, alternatively, be a long ladle or spoon with which to scoop the fluid contents out of the vessel. Following this interpretation, the woman in the illustration is actually standing beside a cauldron filled with warm water to wash the infant after the procedure—probably “spiced” with some soothing medicine. A comparable large-sized utensil shaped like a mortar with a cover, 44 M. Beiẓah 1:5. 45 Thus in M. Shabbat 19:2. 46 The title “haGozer” (lit. “the cutter”) is, in fact, not a surname, but the description or descriptive of his occupation as a mohel. Ya'aqov haGozer lived in the region of Worms or Mainz around 1230. See Joel haKohen Miller, “Introduction,” in Die Beschneidung in ihrer geschichtlichen, ethnographischen, religiösen und medicinischen Bedeutung, zum ersten Male umfassend dargestellt, ed. A. Glassberg (Krakow: Druck von Josef Fischer, 1892; reprint, Jerusalem, 1971), XIII. On the writings of Ya'aqov and Gershom HaGozer, see Simcha Emanuel, Shivrei Luhot: Sefarim Avudim Shel Ba'ale haTosafot (Fragments of the Tablets: Lost Books of the Tosaphists) (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2006), 187–188 (Hebrew). 47 HaKohen Miller, in Glassberg, Die Beschneidung, 21–25.

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as well as a long-handled ladle, can be seen in a grotesque woodcut in Les Songes Drolatiques de Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais, printed in Paris in 1565.48 Cauldrons of a similar form sometimes appear as part of the iconography of Pharaoh bathing in the blood bath to recover from his leprosy. This iconography is based on the midrashic commentary to Exodus 2:23 that recounts that God afflicted Pharaoh with leprosy. Seeking a cure for his illness, his physicians advised him to bathe daily in the blood of Jewish infants.49 This thematic appears in medieval haggadot from Ashkenaz as an illustration to the exegetical passage relating the history of the Israelites in Egypt and their redemption, beginning with the words “Go forth and learn” (‫ּול ַמד‬ ְ ‫)צא‬. ֵ 50 Attempting a different interpretation of the objects beside the woman in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the vessel, depicted at the foot of fol. 36v, may accordingly represent a receptacle used for carrying burning coals to heat the room in which the child is lying, rather than a mortar or a cauldron. A frequent theme in medieval and early Renaissance art is the representation of typical rural activities for each of the twelve months as part of the dialogue between man and the Creator(s) of the seasons. For February (although the ascription of the attribute and the month may vary), a popular depiction of the labour of the month is warming by the fire,51 often showing a man stretching his limbs towards a roaring fire, a

48 François Rabelais, Les Songes Drolatiques de Pantagruel (Paris: Richard Breton, 1565), fol. 13r, in Fünf Jahrhunderte Buchillustration. Meisterwerke der Buchgraphik aus der Bibliothek Otto Schäfer, ed. Gerhard Bott (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 1987), 99 and reproduction opposite 99. 49 The gruesome story is found in Exodus Rabbah 1, 34. See also Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews, vol. 2, 296–304. Cf. Rashi’s commentary on Exod 2:23, s.v. ‫וימת מלך מצרים‬. A detailed study on Pharaoh’s leprosy and attempted cure by means of a blood bath was published by Ephraim Shoham-Steiner, “Pharaoh’s Bloodbath: Medieval European Jewish Thoughts about Leprosy, Disease, and Blood Therapy,” in Jewish Blood: Reality and Metaphor in History, Religion, and Culture, ed. Mitchell B. Hart (London: Routledge, 2009), 99–115, especially from 104. 50 As, for example, in the Hamburg Miscellany from Germany of the fifteenth century, now in Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbilbiothek, Cod. hebr. 37, fol. 27v, reproduced in Kurt Schubert, ed., Judentum im Mittelalter (Ausstellung im Schloss Halbturn) (Eisenstadt: Kulturabteilung des Amtes d. Bgld. Landesregierung, Roetzer-Druck, 1978), no. 22 (exhibition catalogue). ‬ 51 For a comprehensive study on the theme, see Jay Carson Webster, The Labors of the Months in Antique and Medieval Art to the End of the Twelfth Century (New York: AMS Press, 1970). Another discussion on the labours of the months, based on the database of the Princeton Index of Art, is found in Colum Hourihane, ed., Time in the Medieval World: Occupations of the Months and Signs of the Zodiac in the Index of Christian Art (Princeton, NJ: Department of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University in association with Penn State University Press, 2007). On the labour of February, see especially LXI.

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hearth or a cauldron, accompanied at times with the appropriate zodiac sign.52 Such an image is found, for example, in the fifteenth-century Hebrew Canon of Avicenna as part of a passe-par-tout featuring the zodiac signs and the labours of the months.53 Jewish art adopted this visual convention, using the image of a person sitting by the fire as representing the labour of the month of Shvaṭ or Adar, which occupy a similar place in the Jewish calendar as February in the Gregorian one. Almost contemporaneous with the Nuremberg Miscellany, the Yiddish Minhogim Bukh by Simeon haLevi Günzburg includes an illustration of people warming by the fire, representing the labour of the month for the month of Shvaṭ (see Figure 143).54

Figure 143: Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice: Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 70v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]

Yet another possible explanation of the woman’s role in the illustration can be gleaned from a brief reference in Sefer haManhig by R. Abraham b. Nathan haYarḥi. In his “Rules of Circumcision,” he quotes Rav Ẓedeq Ga’on as follows: “. . . one brings forth to him water in a cup and kinds of myrtle and sweet-smelling spices, and one circumcises the infant .  .  .”55 This text suggests a new reading of the 52 As can be seen in the early fifteenth-century French Book of Hours, New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, Ms. M. 264, reproduced in Iris Fishof, Hatum baKokhavim: Dimuy veSemel beGalgal haMazalot (Written in the Stars: Art and Symbolism of the Zodiac) (exhibition catalogue) (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 2001), 37, fig. 11 (Hebrew). 53 Op. cit., 51, fig. 24. 54 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, fol. 70v. 55 See Sefer Hamanhig §123, 580 (Hebrew). Yarḥi is referring to Cohen Tzedek b. Abimaï or Ivomaï Ga’on, head of the academy of Sura’ in Babylonia (d. 849). See also the brief reference in

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iconography of the woman in the illustration, who is shown grinding with the pestle and mortar the spices that should be mixed with the water. Rav Ẓedeq Ga’on description may be an illustration of the differences between the “eastern” (namely Mesopotamian) and “western” (i.e., European) Jewish tradition of circumcision rites. According to the Ṭur, while in the east the custom is to perform the ritual “over the water,” in the west it is done “over the dust,” that is, sand or some earth that is placed in the vessel in which the foreskin is placed during the circumcision. It is further related that in Mata Mahasiah (‫)מ ָתא ְמ ַח ְסיָ א‬ ָ in the southern part of Babylonia, a child was circumcised over water boiled with myrtle and other sweet smelling spices, and the circumcision blood seeped onto the water.56 A different use of spices and herbs, focusing on the infant’s father or its godfather rather than on the circumcised child, may be surmised from the words of Johannes Buxtorf centuries later. Quoting from the English edition, the text reads57: . . . some others also there be, that flock thither with odours and sweet meats, made by the Art of the Apothecary, with strong and delicious wine, Carrawaies, Cinnamon and such like, that they may comfort and refresh the Father or Godfather, or any other of the assistants, so be it that any of them should fall into a swound by some conceived grief for the cutting off the foreskin.58

Returning once more to the detailed circumcision scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany, one notices five small roundels decorating the back of the chair on which the sandaq is seated. Each of them has a small hexagram decoration that resembles a Magen David, literally “shield of David,” also known as “Star of David.” An additional element extends from the upper right-hand side of the chair. These the tenth century to the use of spices in a circumcision that takes place on Yom Kippur, in Sefer Eliyahu Rabbah, Orah Hayyim, no. 47, §8. 56 Ṭur, Yoreh De'ah §265. Ya'aqov haGozer mentions an early, ga’onic custom of performing the circumcision over a vessel containing water. In his words, “In the tales of the Ge’onim I found that the ancients would place the foreskin and the blood in a vessel which contained water and spices and the assembled, upon leaving the synagogue, would wash their hands and faces with it in order to endear the commandment to them.” The phrasing implies that most probably the custom was no longer enacted in Ashkenaz in his time. See Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisra’el: Meqorot veToladot (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1991), vol. 2, 90–94 (Hebrew). 57 Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 47, translated and augmented from Buxtorf, Synagoga Iudica, 109: “Es finden sich auch etliche mit guten Confecten und eingemachten sůssen sachen/ mit sůsem starcken Wein/ mit Negelin/ Zimmet unnd anderm guten krefftigen gewůrtz/ den Vatter des Kindes/ wie auch den Gevattern oder andere damit zu stercken unnd zu laben/ wo ihnen vielleicht von wegen des Schmertzens des armen Kindlins wee wurde.” 58 Wine is already mentioned with regard to the circumcision rituals as early as in the midninth century in Seder Rav Amram Ga’on, and is later dealt with by Simḥa of Vitry, §506, ed. Horowitz, 626–627. See Gertner, Evolvement of Customs, 225–235, especially with reference to Vitry and Ya'aqov haGozer.

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devices call to mind the popular customs of taking protective measures against evil supernatural beings known from mystical pantheons, mainly the she-demon Lilith and her consort.59 Such apotropaic strategies include amulets and incantation charms that are typically placed near or on the endangered person. The Magen David, too, is an ancient apotropaic symbol frequently used in kabbalistic amulets. The incisions on the chair designated for the sandaq to sit on while holding the infant on his lap are thus quite befitting. They serve the same defensive purpose as the more imposing one on the side of the crib depicted on fol. 44r, namely to ward off evil spirits and bestow on the infant a good omen.60 The additional rectangular element at the upper right of the back of the chair, apparently lacking any colouring or decoration, is perhaps meant to represent a note with some appropriate biblical passages, or a protective amulet attached to the chair as an apotropaic device,61 but may also represent a note on which the circumcision benedictions are inscribed and placed there for the circumciser’s convenience.62 In addition to the sandaq’s chair, a smaller chair is illustrated to the left of the protagonists. The two are different in both size and detail. Whereas the sandaq sits on a tall, elaborately fashioned chair,63 the other chair is significantly smaller. According to the inscription above it, it is “Elijah’s chair,” alluding to Elijah the Prophet. 59 The myth of Lilith is documented for the first time in the Alphabet of ben Sira’, Question #5 (23a-b): It is told that after God created Adam, He said, “It is not good for man to be alone” (Gen 2:18). He then created a woman for Adam, and called her Lilith. When Adam wished to lie with her, she took offence at the recumbent posture he demanded and, in a rage, uttered the magic name of God, rose into the air and left him. When the angels attempted to appease her and convince her to return to Adam, she refused and said: “I was created only to cause sickness to infants. If the infant is male, I have dominion over him for eight days after his birth, and if female, for twenty days.” Yet she swore to the angels: “Whenever I see you or your names or your forms in an amulet, I will have no power over that infant.” On the myth of Lilith, see further Robert Graves and Raphael Patai, The Hebrew Myths: The Book of Genesis (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1964), 65–69; and mainly Siegmund Hurwitz, Lilith − Die erste Eva: Eine historische und psychologische Studie über dunkle Aspekte des Weiblichen (Einsiedeln: Daimon, 2011) (5. Aufl.). See also Joseph Dan, “Samael, Lilith and the Concept of Evil in Early Kabbalah,” AJS Review 5 (1980), 17–40. 60 See discussion here, 382–387. 61 On the origin and dissemination of such amulets, with visual examples, see Shalom Sabar, “Childbirth and Magic: Jewish Folklore and Material Culture,” in Cultures of the Jews: A New History, ed. David Biale (New York: Shocken Books, 2002), 670−676. 62 Other protective measures are the circle that the father draws around “the place appointed for the child-birth” and the inscribed amulets mentioned by Buxtorf, The Jewish Synagogue, 41–42. See also 44. 63 The study of the custom, function, and form of circumcision chairs in Ashkenaz is based on research carried out for the occasion of a conference held in honour of Eric Zimmer at BarIlan University in Ramat Gan, December 31, 2000–January 1, 2001. A survey of the history of the chairs in Ashkenaz by the present author is awaiting publication.

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Associating Elijah with the ritual of circumcision dates back to the fifthcentury midrashic text Psiqta deRav Kahana,64 repeatedly quoted by later rabbinic authorities.65 Based on this midrash, we read in the eighth-century Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, Elijah, may he be remembered for good, arose and fled from the land of Israel and he betook himself to Mount Horeb . . . There the Holy One, blessed be He, was revealed unto him, and He said to him: “What have you here, Elijah?” (I Kings 19:9). He answered Him, saying: “I have been very zealous” (ibid., 19:10) . . . He said to him: “You are always zealous! By your life! They shall not observe the covenant of circumcision until you see it [done] with your eyes. Hence the sages instituted [the custom] that people should have a seat of honour for the Messenger of the Covenant; for Elijah, may he be remembered for good, is called the Messenger of the Covenant, as it is said “And the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight it, behold he commeth” (Malachi 3:1).66

Inscribed on fols. 38r-v is the piyyuṭ ‫( ָה ַר ֲח ָמן הּוא ָיְב ֵרְך ֲא ִבי ַהיֶ ֶלד וְ ִאּמֹו‬HaRaḥaman Hu Yevarekh Avi haYeled ve’Imo) that bears the acrosticated name of its author, Abraham Kohen Ẓedek [b. Isaac] – one of the Rishonim. It is a prayer on behalf of the parents, the sandaq and the mohel, followed by words of yearning for the Messiah and beckoning Elijah the Prophet, specifically mentioning a chair that is prepared for him in the last stanza.67 The piyyuṭ is recited in the special Grace After Meals during the mandatory banquet (se'udat miẓvah) in honour of the circumcision. The compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany, who was familiar with the tradition and custom of his time, explains the use of two chairs for the circumcision ceremony: “It is customary here to set up a chair of honour at circumcisions in honour of Elijah, who is called the Angel of the Covenant.” He further states that two chairs typically stood in the synagogue hall for three days prior to the circumcision to remind the congregants to pray for the wellbeing of the child and its mother.68 There is no reference, however, to the difference in size and form visible in the illustration.

64 Pesiḳta de-Rav Kahana, ed. Dov b. Ya'acov Israel Mandelbaum (Newark: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1962), vol. 2, chap. 28, 427–428 (Hebrew). 65 See, for example, Abraham b. Nathan of Lunel, Sefer ha-Manhig, part 2, §129, 583 (Hebrew). For further references, see Herman Pollak, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648–1806). Studies in Aspects of Daily Life (Cambridge, MA: M.I.T. Press, 1971), 215, n. 49. 66 Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer (ed. Higger), chap. 29, 213–214 (Hebrew). See the English translation by Friedlander, Pirke d’Rabbi Eli'ezer, 214 and nn. 1–4. 67 Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 2, no. 1052, 162. 68 As per fol. 39r in the Nuremberg Miscellany. See also Ya'aqov haGozer, 113.

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In her study of “The Small Elijah Chair,” Ruth Jacoby deals with an apparently unique phenomenon among Jewish communities in Provence.69 In the eighteenth-century synagogues of Carpentras and Cavaillon,70 small-scale chairs are raised on a console high above floor level to the right of the Torah ark. The chair from Carpentras is unambiguously identified as Elijah’s chair, as stated in the embroidered inscription on its upholstered back,71 suggesting a similar use of the chair from Cavaillon as well.72 In a footnote devoted to the circumcision scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany, Jacoby discusses the relative size of the two chairs and comments: “Does the size of the chair in this illustration reflect reality, or does it reflect the personal style of the artist? Stylistic analysis of the entire illustrations in this manuscript suggests that no realistic representation can be conjectured.”73 An in-depth study of the Miscellany, however, leads to the opposite conclusion. As previously shown in numerous examples, the artist is very particular about precision and detail when depicting custom and realia. Truly, the unknown artist, who may or may not have been the same as the scribe, lacked professional artistic skills, particularly when it comes to reproducing accurate proportions, volume, and perspective. Conversely, however, he displays accurate perception and meticulous rendering of relative size and the fine details of minhag as well as clothing, furniture, and furnishings. Thus the illustrations of the manuscript can be “read” as virtual reflecltions of actual contemporary of life and custom as he knew them. It would be wrong, in any case, to conclude that the inclusion of the second chair in the circumcision scene represents an innovation added to the array of well-established customs, especially in light of the halakhic rulings mentioned above and inference from Abraham Kohen Ẓedek’s early piyyuṭ. Rather, one should assume that it was depicted intentionally, as a matter of course, despite

69 Ruth Jacoby, “The Small Elijah Chair,” Jewish Art 18 (1992): 71–77. See also René Moulinas, “Les Vieilles Synagogues d’Avignon et du Comtat Venaissin,” Archives Juives 1 (1980): 22. 70 A similar chair may have also been placed in the synagogue of Avignon and perhaps in other communities in Comtat Venaissin as well. See Moulinas, loc. cit.; and Jacoby, op. cit., 74. 71 The inscription, embroidered in gold thread on red velvet, reads: “This is the chair for Elijah, blessed be his memory.” See Jacoby, 70, fig. 1. 72 Their symbolic significance has been discussed mainly by Cecil Roth, “The Chair of Moses and Its Survival,” Palestine Exploration Quarterly 81 (1949): 106–107. Other suggestions have been offered by Rachel Wischnitzer, The Architecture of the European Synagogue (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 5724/1964), 74–75; as well as Carol Herselle Krinsky, Synagogues of Europe (New York: Architectural History Foundation / Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985), 241. 73 Jacoby, 77, n. 27.

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its absence from the works of earlier artists. The latter probably preferred to concentrate on the protagonists, the procedure, and its essential tools, leaving out other iconographic details. The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany, on the other hand, was particularly interested in the specifics of customs, as can be seen in his portrayal of other scenes pertaining to the Jewish year and life cycles. He therefore insisted on the inclusion of the additional chair, the one for Elijah, in his illustration. Almost a century after the Nuremberg Miscellany, Johannes Buxtorf reports in his Synagoga Iudaica of two different chairs used during the circumcision ritual. In addition to two separate armchairs (“Sessel”) that could be used on the occasion, he also mentions an alternative option of using “einen andern Stul von zwey underschiedenen Gesässen,” namely “another [type of] chair [with] two different seats.”74 While Elijah’s chair in the Nuremberg Miscellany looks indeed smaller, the artist drew it with great precision, decorative carvings and colouring included. Also of interest are the three cushions placed on the seat, fitted with tassels at each end. Covering a stool or a chair with fabric or cushions is part of the history of furniture, especially the chair, and, more specifically, the upholstered chair.75 From Antiquity and until the middle of the seventeenth century, integrated upholstery is conspicuously absent from chairs almost completely. Cushions or some soft materials were used to pad the seats and improve the comfort of the sitter, at least in higher echelons of society, and as a token of honour. For that reason, in numerous portrayals of royalty and other notables, they are shown seated on a chair covered with fabrics or pillows.

74 An example of a double-chair in which one seat is broader than the other is mentioned by Rudolf Hallo, “Das Hessische Landesmuseum,” in idem, Schriften zur Kunstgeschichte in Kassel. Sammlungen. Denkmäler. Judaica, herausgegeben aus Anlass ihres 40- jährigen Bestehens, mit Beiträgen von Wolfgang Adler et al. (herausgegeben von Günter Schweikhart ) (Kassel: Gesamthochschulbibliothek, 1983, im Auftrag der Gesamthochschule Kassel und des Vereins für Heßische Geschichte und Landeskunde (© 1928), 351. The exemplary chair is from the synagogue of Meimbressen. Its left seat is the one designated for the sandaq, while the other was symbolically made for Elijah and was not meant to be used, hence its narrower format.‬‬ 75 On the symbolic importance of the chair in the Roman period, see, for example, Jan Willem Salomonson, Chair, Sceptre and Wreath. Historical Aspects of Their Representation on Some Roman Sepulchral Monuments (Groningen: Ellerman Harms, 1956).

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As cushions were regarded objects of luxury and esteem, they were often embellished with precious stones or embroidery.76 As such, they are seen in secular coronation scenes,77 in the religious context in portrayals of Jesus, Mary or the Evangelists, or in depictions of the Hetoimasia,78 namely the iconography of the empty throne symbolising the second coming of Jesus.79 It is typical of depictions of the Maestas Domini showing Jesus sitting on a throne surrounded by the Apocalyptic entities and the 24 Elders (Revelations 4–5) (see Figure 144).80

76 Homily 66 on the Gospel of Matthew by John Chrysostom is an example that shows the flair of luxury ascribed to the cushion. Speaking of the modesty of Christ, he says: “And sitting, he requires no throne nor pillow, but sits on the ground . . .” The same idea is repeated in his Homily 31 on the Gospel of John: “. . . not upon a throne, not upon a cushion, but simply, and as He was, upon the ground.” Cf. also Homily on 2 Cor VII, 7. 77 As in the image of Henry VI on his lion throne with Chancellor Konrad, in Pietro da Eboli, Liber ad honorem Augusti sive de rebus Siculis, illustrated in Palermo (?) in the twelfth–thirteenth century, fol. 147r, reproduced in Theo Kolzer and Marlis Stahli, eds., Petrus de Ebulo, Liber ad honorem Augusti sive de rebus Siculis: Codex 120 II der Burgerbibliothek Bern: eine Bilderchronik der Stauferzeit, Textrevision und Übersetzung von Gereon Becht-Jordens (Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke, 1994), 243. 78 For example, the icon of the Hetoimasia and Four Saints from Constantinople, of the tenth– eleventh century, preserved in Paris, Musée du Louvre, OA 11152. It is reproduced in Helen C. Evans and William D. Wixom, eds., The Glory of Byzantium: Art and Culture of the Middle Byzantine Era, A.D. 843–1261 (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art [distributed by H. N. Abrams], 1997), 157, cat.103. 79 This iconography is described in a close-to-visual way in The Shepherd of Hermas, Book I, Vision 3, chap. 1 as follows: “And I see an ivory seat ready placed, and on it a linen cushion, and above the linen cushion was spread a covering of fine linen,” according to the translation in The Ante-Nicene Fathers. Translations of the Writings of the Fathers Down to A.D. 325 (American reprint of the Edinburgh edition. Revised and chronologically arranged, with brief prefaces and occasional notes by A. Cleveland Coxe) (Buffalo: The Christian Literature Publishing Company, 1886–1888), vol. II: Fathers of the Second Century: Hermas, Tatian, Athenagoras, Theophilus, and Clement of Alexandria, 1887. 80 Compare the heavy cloth and the cushion softening the seat on which Pope Gregory the Great is sitting in the detached page from the Registrum Gregorii (Letters of St. Gregory) of 977–993, currently in Trier, Stadtbibliothek, reproduced in Zarnecki, Art of the Medieval World, colourplate 27. See also the dedication page of Hrotsvitha (von Gandersheim), Opera Hrosvite (Nuremberg: Sodalitas Celtica, 1501), fol. 1v, in Bott, Fünf Jahrhunderte Buchillustration, opposite p. 59 and description there.

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Figure 144: Moissac, Abbey church of Saint-Pierre, tympanum of the southern portico, 1120–1135 (detail)

The absence of any textual allusion made by the compiler to the cushions depicted in the circumcision scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany is rather striking, particularly given that earlier sources have documented the custom of honouring Elijah’s symbolic empty seat with costly fabrics. One such reference is a short passage in the treatise devoted to circumcision by the mohel Ya'aqov haGozer,81 who wrote, “One prepares two chairs and [places] on them striped cushions, on top of which one places a cloak or any precious cloth for hiddur miẓvah [lit. glorification of the commandment].”82 HaGozer is following much earlier authorities, dating back centuries before his time and surely known to him. Quoting Rav Sherira Ga’on (head of the academy 81 A brief bio-bibliographical reference to Ya'aqov haGozer is found in the introductory note, in Glassberg, Die Beschneidung, XII–XIII. 82 See ibid., 59. Cf. 60–61 and part II of the book, 113. The concept of “glorification of the commandment” (hiddur miẓvah) is derived from Rabbi Ishmael’s comment on the verse, “This is my God and I will glorify Him” (Exod 15:2), recorded in Midrash Mekhilta, Shirata, chap. 3 (ed. Lauterbach, 25): “Is it possible for a human being to add glory to his Creator? What this really means is: I shall glorify Him in the way I perform miẓvot. I shall prepare before Him a beautiful lulav, beautiful sukkah, beautiful fringes [ẓiẓit], and beautiful phylacteries [tefillin].” BT Shabbat 133b adds to this list a beautiful shofar and a beautiful Torah Scroll which has been written by a skilled scribe with fine ink and a fine pen, and wrapped in beautiful silks.

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of Pumbeditha in Babylonia, ca. 906–1006), Isaac b. Moses of Vienna (ca. 1200– ca.  1270) writes: “It is a custom in Israel to place a chair covered with a cloak beside the ba'al brit in honour of Elijah, called Angel of the Covenant . . .”83 A similar description is given in the fourteenth century in Minhagei Maharil—a compilation of rulings of R. Jacob b. Moses Möllin. Discussing the fate of defiled threads of the fringes (ẓiẓit) of the ṭallit,84 the author describes a custom in Mainz, where the synagogue beadle used the detached fringes to fasten the coloured fabrics that serve as upholstry onto the circumcision chairs,85 alluding to the chair set for Elijah. He refers more specifically to placing Elijah’s chair next to the sandaq’s, as he explicitly says in his chapter on the rituals of circumcision: “One should seek out a righteous Jew to make him a sandaq, for he is the ba'al brit, so that Elijah may come and sit on the chair covered by a cloak beside the ba'al brit.”86 An alternative to the two separate chairs for the circumcision is reported in the sixteenth century in Der Gantz Jüdisch Glaub by Anthonius Margaritha, first published in Augsburg in 1530.87 Margaritha describes a construct of two conjoined seats: One for the Geväter (his term for “godfather”), and the other for Elijah (Helias in his orthography).88 Describing the decoration of the chairs 83 Yitshak b.r. Mosheh miVina. Sefer Or Zaru'a haShalem leRabenu Yitshak b.r. Mosheh miVina. Edited by Avraham Marinberg. Jerusalem: Makhon Torani Yeshivat Or 'Etsyon; Machon Yerushalayim, 5761 [2001], Rituals of Circumcision, §27:1 (Hebrew). Referring to a still older source, Isaac b. Moses of Vienna uses the term ‫מושב כבוד‬, or “seat of honour,” which could be a well-known technical term for an upholstered chair or one covered with fabrics. Similarly, being familiar with chairs of honour of his days, the eighth-century compiler of Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer probably did not feel the need to clarify this self-explanatory formulation. See Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer (chap. 29). 84 According to Num 15:38 and Deut 22:12, all Jewish men are to wear fringes fastened to the corners of their garments. This is true for both the ṭallit, the shawl worn during prayer, and for the ṭallit qatan (small ṭallit), a rectangular undergarment with an opening for the head, as well. 85 See Sefer Maharil 588, §3 (Hebrew). 86 See op. cit., 677, §4. Cf. also Or Zaru'a, part II—rulings for the circumcision, §107, s.v. ‫מנהג‬. In this context, the term denotes the person honoured with holding the infant on his lap as part of the ritual. 87 The German title means “The Complete Jewish Faith.” For an evaluation of Margaritha’s contribution to our knowledge on the Jews in Early Modern Germany, as well as other important ethnographers who described Jewish life, see Stephen G. Burnett, “Distorted Mirrors”, 275–287. A broad insight regarding “Jewish ethnographers” as he names them, is found in Deutsch, Judaism in Christian Eyes. 88 Margaritha, Der gantz Jüdisch Glaub (1530), H(v)-Hi (unpaginated): “Nun zů morgenns wann man schier auß der Snagog geen will/ beingen die weiber das kind biß under die kirchthür/ als dann entpfåcht der gevåtter das kind vonm den weybern/ setzt sich auff ein stůl/ welcher gantz herzlich mitt tapeceryeyn/seyden/ und samaten küssern zůgericht ist, dyser stůl steet nahet bey der Arch/ auff disdem stůl seindt zway geseβ/ da zwen månner herrlich sitzen künden/ sitzt aber allain der gevater darauff/ und hat das kindlein auff der schoβ/ Das ander ort thar niemandt

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on two occasions, the writer maintains that the sandaq’s chair is covered with “tabetereyen, seiden und sametem küßeren,” namely, tapestries, silk and velvet cushions. Slightly later, Johannes Buxtorf the Elder’s Synagoga Iudaica offers a longer and more detailed description: Upon the eighth day, all things necessary for Circumcision are graced with an early preparation. First of all two chairs are brought into the room or one at least, yet of such a latitude and bignesse, that two may with ease sit in it, which is also adorned with Tapestry and silken and velvet furniture, and that according to every person’s ability . . .89

Further on in the text, he says: “Some of the upright Jews take the little Infant, and both before and after his circumcision lay him upon the bolster or cushion of Elias, that he may touch him.”90 The cushion for Elijah‘s seat commanded special attention, as illustrated by numerous decorations and inscriptions on some of the cushion covers bearing his name.91 Another testimony from a non-Jewish source is that of the Swedish Orientalist Petrus Jonae Salanus (1624–1684). Visiting Franconia in early 1651, he shared his impressions from a circumcision ceremony that took place in Schnaittach: From there we came into the village of Schnaittach, which belongs to the castle Rothenburg in Franconia, and which is inhabited mostly by Jews. We saw there in their synagogue the circumcision of a boy after the end of the service. The women brought the child to the door of the synagogue; the men went to meet them with the cry: Hosannah who comes in the name of the Lord, took the child from them, and thereupon went to the place where two decorated chairs stood, covered with soft pillows. Especially [decorated] was the one on

anrůren/ dann dasselbig ortd ist dem Helias beraytt/ dann sie sprechen Helias sey allweg bey der beschneydung/ und sitz an disem ort/ diß glauben die Juden gewyßlich/ dann es ist in yrem Talmudt/ und nemens auch auß Mal. 3. Und der Engel des pacts den jr begert der wirt kommen ec.” 89 Buxtorf, Jewish Synagogue, 46, following idem, Synagoga Iudaica, 108: “Am morgen/ das ist/ am achten tag/ růfet man sehr frůhe zur Beschneidung/ unnd erstlich ordnet man zwen Sässel oder einen anderen Stuhl von zwey underscheidenen gesåssen/ mit schỏnen Teppychen/ Seiden unnd Sammeten kůssen/ nachdem es ein jedlicher vermag/ gezieret . . .” 90 Buxtorf, Jewish Synagogue, 51. 91 Such as in the one dated 1779–1780 from the Austrian Empire, presently in New York, The Jewish Museum, Gift of Dr. S. A. Buchenholz, S1015, which includes the exclamation ‫זה הכסא של‬ ‫( אליהו‬This is Elijah’s chair). See Vivian B. Mann, Richard I. Cohen and Fritz Backhaus, eds., From Court Jews to the Rothschilds. Art, Patronage, and Power (1600–1800) (Munich: Prestel, 1996), no. 255; Kleeblatt and Mann, Treasures, 98–99. It is unclear on what grounds it has been localised to Halberstadt (Saxonia), Germany, by Katia Guth-Dreifus, “Eine süddeutsche jüdische Textilie aus dem frühen 17. Jahrhundert,” in Landjudentum im deutschen Südwesten während der Frühen Neuzeit (Colloquia Augustana, Bd. 10), ed. Rolf Kießling and Sabine Ullmann (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1999), 228, n. 8.

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the right, which remained empty because the Prophet Elijah was meant to sit on it, who, according to their faith, is present at all circumcisions . . .92

The earliest extant circumcision pillow case is dated according to its inscription to 1614—shortly after the completion of the Nuremberg Miscellany. It stands to reason that its donors were related to the owners of the Miscellany. The embroidered fabric, kept in the Jüdisches Museum der Schweiz in Basel, was donated to the local synagogue by Ya'aqov b. Simeon Ulma and his wife, probably on the occasion of the birth of one of their sons (see Figure 145).93 An early ownership inscription, documented on fol. 45v of the Miscellany, mentions Moses Günz-

Figure 145: Circumcision cushion cover, Southern Germany, 1614 [Basel, Jüdisches Museum der Schweiz, No. 1198]

92 Petrus Jonae Salanus, “Travel Diary (Ms. Linkopings Stifts-und Landesbibliothek G. 8),” translated to English from the German translation, in Hans Joachim Schoeps, Philosemitismus im Barock; Religions- und Geistes-geschichtliche Untersuchungen (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1952), 173, quoted by Eva Frojmovic, “Christian Travelers to the Circumcision. Early Modern Representations,” in The Covenant of Circumcision. New Perspectives on an Ancient Jewish Rite, ed. Elisabeth Wyner Mark (Lebanon, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2003), 137. 93 Basel, Jüdisches Museum, No. 1198. The object has been studied and described by Katia Guth-Dreyfus, “Eine süddeutsche jüdische Textilie,” 220–233.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 373

burg (Ulma), son of the late Simeon—perhaps the same Simeon mentioned as the father of the donor of the textile as well. The progenitor of the family, Eli'ezer Abraham, was born in 1477 in Porto, in the Veneto region (Italy) and subsequently moved to Swabia. It is believed that the family first settled in Ulm and resided there until the local authorities expelled them in 1499. Eli'ezer, who was known in Ulm by his colloquial name Lazarus as “flaischschnyder”, re-settled in Günzburg after the expulsion.94 The wealthy merchant and Talmudist Simeon b. Eli'ezer Ulma, born in 1506, was probably the first member of his family to adopt and transmit to his descendants the surname Günzburg after his town of residence, Günzburg a. d. Donau, where he built a synagogue and established a cemetery. Having received a patent of protection (privilegium) from Emperor Karl V in 1544, Simeon b. Eli'ezer Ulma soon became the leader of the Swabian Jewish community. He died in Burgau and was buried there on January 9, 1586.95 For this reason, in the early generations, the surnames Günzburg and Ulma were used interchangeably, jointly or separately by members of this family.96 The use of the appellation “Ulmo,” “Ulma(n)” or “Günzburg” was a prestigious title of reference indicating the family’s origin rather than a family name in the full modern sense of the word.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth Many cultures hold beliefs that demons and other supernatural beings pose a threat to human life, in particular at times of transition. Protection from such powers is often part of rites of passage,97 which include various measures to avert the dangers, both within normative religion and as part of popular culture.

94 Christian Scholl, Die Judengemeinde der Reichsstadt Ulm im späten Mittelalter. Innerjüdische Verhältnisse und christlich-jüdische Beziehungen in süddeutschen Zusammenhängen (Forschungen zur Geschichte der Juden. Abteilung A, Abhandlungen Bd. 23) (Hannover: Hansche Buchhandlung, 2012), 353. I gratefully thank Dr. Andreas Lehnertz for this reference. 95 See also Cilli Kasper-Holtkotte, Die jüdische Gemeinde von Frankfurt/Main in der frühen Neuzeit: Familien, Netzwerke und Konflikte eines jüdischen Zentrums (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2010), 71. 96 On the history of the Günzburg family, see Friedberg, Zur Genealogie der Familie Günzburg, and more recently, Stefan Rohrbacher, “Ungleiche Partnerschaft. Simon Günzburg und die erste Ansiedlung von Juden vor den Toren Augsburgs in der Frühen Neuzeit,” in Kießling and Ullmann, Landjudentum, 192–219, with additional, earlier sources, on 197, n. 197. 97 In addition to van Gennep, in his book Les rites de passage, another major study of rites of passage was written by Mircea Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation: The Mysteries of Birth and Rebirth (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958).‬‬

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Their role is to sheild from the malevolence of supernatural entities.98 Among the means to counteract these perils are prayers, amulets, spells and incantations, and invocation of guardian angels. From the most ancient times, Jewish culture shared in the belief of the existence of supernatural beings of a nature different from man, with which one has to co-exist or cope.99 Joshua Trachtenberg, one of the leading authorities on Jewish superstition, writes: . . . the striking feature of the demonology is that it was so vivid a part of Jewish life. It was not merely an ingredient in a guileless store of legend and fable, as we may be tempted to consider it, but a living reality with which the individual had constantly to contend.100

From that perspective, Lilith, the ancient she-demon mentioned earlier, who was assimilated into Jewish lore, is considered of particular danger to humans. First recorded in Jewish writing sometime between the eighth and tenth centuries, she emerges in the Alphabet of Ben Sira’ (also known as Alphabetum Siracidis, or Sepher Ben Sira’) as Adam’s first wife. After Adam rejected her attempt to achieve equality, she escaped from the Garden of Eden to the Dead Sea. Though distressed by her insolent behaviour, Adam wanted her to return. In response, God sent three angels, named Sanoy, Sansenoy, and Semangelaf,101 who attempted to convince her to return to Adam. Lilith refused and vowed to exact revenge on Adam and all his offspring.102 Consequently, Lilith assumed the infamy of mother of demons, baby-stealer, and baby-killer and is believed to have uttered the following words 98 The universal process that led to the belief in the existence of a parallel “world” in which supernatural beings live and their inevitable encounters with humankind is described by Ernest Alfred Wallis Budge as a natural primordial defence-mechanism against fear of natural hazards. See his study on Amulets and Superstitions; the Original Texts with Translations and Descriptions of a Long Series of Egyptian, Sumerian, Assyrian, Hebrew, Christian, Gnostic and Muslim Amulets and Talismans and Magical Figures, with Chapters on the Evil Eye, the Origin of the Amulet, the Pentagon, the Swǎstika, the Cross (Pagan and Christian), the Properties of Stones, Rings, Divination, Numbers, the Kabbâlâh, Ancient Astrology, etc. (London: Oxford University Press, H. Milford, 1930), 1–3. See also his preface, especially XV. 99 See the chapter on Hebrew amulets in ibid., 212–238; and later, Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic. A study of the main types of Jewish amulets was published by Theodore Schrire, Hebrew Magic Amulets: Their Decipherment and Interpretation (New York: Behrman House, 1982; reprint of London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966). 100 Trachtenberg, “The Folk Element,” 179. The author deals with demons in Judaism on 176–182. 101 The spelling of the names of the three angels varies according to the preferred English orthography of the individual scholars, and sometimes also in the Hebrew rendering of their names. 102 She is perhaps inferred as belonging to the “Lilin”—one of the three types of demons mentioned in Targum Yerushalmi to Deut 32:24. The story of Lilith is known in several versions, sharing the main features but varying in detail.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 375

to the angels who came after her: “I know I was created for the sole purpose of making babies ill from the day of their birth until the eighth day when I have permission [to harm them], and after eight days I have no permission . . .”103 She nonetheless promised not to harm babies who are protected by amulets bearing the names or images of the three envoy-angels.104 Leading rabbis fiercely condemned deeds of magic and mysticism and decreed that Jews direct their confidence to God only. In effect, though, halakha was interwoven with grassroots primeval notions and ways of life of the surrounding society.105 Among the Jews of Germany, too, these two currents—rationalism and mysticism—co-existed alongside their Jewish faith.106 Fear and superstition led to the employment of various protective measures to safeguard against any form of negative supernatural intervention. In particular, exceptional precaution was considered imperative upon the birth of a child to protect it from calamity. Following a long immanent Jewish tradition of fear, caution, and deference for demonic malice against human beings, German Jews were receptive also to local customs and rituals originating in the Germanic folklore.107 Special care was considered crucial to safeguard infants and mothers, from childbirth to circumcision, which brings newborn boys into God’s covenant with His chosen people, thus shielding them from the perils of Lilith.108 The danger is believed to be 103 Quoted from the European version of The Alphabet of Ben Sira’ by John Cooper, The Child in Jewish History (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson Inc., 1996), 123. 104 Of the early studies on Lilith, see Alexander Kohut, Ueber die jüdische Angelologie und Daemonologie in ihrer Abhängigkeit vom Parsismus (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1866), 86–89; Wilhelm Bacher, “Lilith, Königin von Smargad,” Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 19, no. 4 (1870): 187–189; and more recently Michèle Bitton, “Lilith ou la première Eve: le mythe juif de la féminité démoniaque,” École des Hautes Études du Judaïsme: Actes des journées d’études (1993): 19–32; and Catherine Halpern and Michèle Bitton, Lilith, l’épouse de Satan (Paris: Larousse, 2010).‬‬ ‬ ‬ 105 Strong opposition to magic and superstition was expressed, for example, by R. Judah b. Samuel of Regensburg (a.k.a. R. Yehuda heḤasid, ca. 1150–1217) in his Sefer Ḥassidim, ed. J. Wistinetzki (Jerusalem2: Sifre Wahrman 1969; reprint of Frankfurt am Main, 1924 ed.), nos. 211 et seq, 1448–1457 (Hebrew). 106 Sefer Ḥassidim (lit. Heb. “Book of the Pious”) reflects the religious life of the Jews in the Rhineland, laid down by Samuel heḤassid, his son Judah heḤassid, and Elaezar b. Judah of Worms. Its tone reflects a mystical and ascetic tendency that were, perhaps, a response to the Second Crusade, along with strong traces of German popular belief. 107 An informative source for the local folklore in Swabia, albeit totally lacking substantiating references and footnotes, is the book by Paul Walther, Schwäbische Volkskunde (Deutsche Stämme, deutsche Lande) (Frankfurt am Main: Weidlich, 1980; Unveränd. Nach d. Aufl. von 1929). The section on rites of birth and baptism is on 95–102. 108 On rites of passage pertaining to birth in Judaism, see Patricia Hidiroglou, Les rites de naissance dans le judaïsme (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1997). Newborn girls, too, were obviously prone to Lilith’s malice, and measures were taken against her wickedness. See, for example, Margare-

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particularly acute on the night before the circumcision. An interesting testimony to that effect is found in Margaritha’s Der gantz Jüdisch Glaub (Augsburg, 1530). The author relates that on the eve of the circumcision, members of the community gather in the parturient mother’s home, to console her and ease her fear of harm that might befall her child. Most importantly, he says, study and prayer are pursued throughout the vigil night on the eve of circumcision.109 These actions were probably directed to prevent the mother from falling asleep on the one hand, and secure that she and her son are enveloped in and protected by holy words and deeds of piety. The last opening of the Nuremberg Miscellany, comprising fols. 43v-44r, contains a composite illustration that—at first glance—seems like two separate scenes (see Figure 146). According to the text on fol. 43v, the illustration on fol. 44r should be regarded as part of the Hollekreisch ceremony—a term to which we will return shortly. It is noteworthy, however, that the rite is hardly represented in Jewish visual art at all, although it was continually celebrated in various parts of Germany, Switzerland, and Alsace as late as the twentieth century.110 The text on fol. 34v refers to the parturient mother,111 her confinement, and the festivities related to the name-giving ceremony—the Hollekreisch,112 in which tha Folmer, “A Jewish Childbirth Amulet for a Girl,” in Studies in Hebrew Literature and Jewish Culture (Amsterdam Studies in Jewish Thought 12), ed. M.F.J. Baasten and R. Munk (Dordrecht: Springer, 2007), 41–56. The text of the Nuremberg Miscellany, however, specifically denotes the birth of a baby boy. 109 Margaritha Der gantz Jüdisch Glaub (1530) mentions various magical acts performed by members of the community to protect the infant and the parturient mother. In his words, Hi (unpaginated): “DAs waiβt anfencklich ein yeder wol/ auß Geṅ. 17. dz die Juden yhre knebleyn am 8. tag beschneyden/ dye nacht darvor wachen vil leut/ die selbig nacht bey der kindtpetrin und kinde/ An ettlichen ordten zecht man unnd spilt bey jr/ sie damit zů trỏsten/ das sie nicht trawre vonn beschneydung wegen jres kinds/ Es gibt auch die erfarnuß das dye selb nacht fast miβlich mit dem kind stehet/ dann vil kind sterbenn zů nacht so mans zů morgens sol zůr beschneidung tragē/ auch solches in Ungern gar gewonlich ist/ auch im Welschland mer dann im teütschland/ darumb dann auff dise nacht vil gelerten zůsamen kommen/ hencken der kindpetterin vil zauberey umb das bett/ Sagen vil segen/ damit das des kindleyn nichtt sterbenn sol.” For a historical study of the means used to avert the perils of childbirth, especially during the night prior to the circumcision, see Elliott Horowitz, “The Eve of Circumcision: A Chapter in the History of Jewish Nightlife,” Journal of Social History 23, no. 1 (1989): 45–69. 110 A famous rendition of this ceremony is the oil painting by the Swiss artist Alis Guggenheim, Hollekreisch, from 1950, now in Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. B94.0555 (gift of Siegmund Weiner and Eva Weiner-Karo of Lucerne), reproduced in Cohen Grossman, Jewish Art, 137. 111 The text on fol. 35r, regarded as the main text and therefore inscribed in Ashkenazi square script, contains the verses and other utterances of the actual Hollekreisch ceremony. 112 Many attempts have been made to trace the etymology of this term. In the fourteenth century, its origin had already been forgotten, as attested by R. Judah b. Eli'ezer haLevi Minz (ca.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 377

Figure 146: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 43v-44r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

the secular “crib-name” or cognomen is bestowed upon the newborn infant.113 It elaborates on the customs related to the “Parturient-Shabbat” and to the ritual purification which is incumbent on the mother in order for her to be allowed to leave her home after having given birth and physically rejoin the community – being another case where a private event is linked to the communal, public

1408–1506), who is the first to explicitly mention it in writing. See his Responsa, §19, 88, §37, 137, and §64, 260–263. Cf. Johann Jakob Schudt, Jüdische Merckwürdigkeiten, Bd. 2, Buch 6, S. 10. That this custom was known—though not necessarily practised—in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century in Poland and mentioned in the writings of R. Joel b. Samuel Sirkes (1561–1640), who refers to it using a different spelling and pronunciation. See Joel b. Samuel Sirkes, Hagahot ha-Baḥ ha-Yeshanot al kol ha-Shas. Warsaw: Avigdor Lebenbsohn, 1824 (Hebrew), §95, s.v. ‫ולפע˝ד נראה‬. See also Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic, 42. The term is known in various forms of orthography such as “Holekreische,” “Houlegraasch” or “Holegrasch,” depending on the cultural-linguistic region. 113 A study of the custom, with special emphasis on the image in the Nuremberg Miscellany, was carried out by Róth, “On the Hollekreisch,” 68–69.

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domain. The text then refers to the traditional custom practised in Antiquity to offer a year-old lamb at the Tabernacle and later at the Temple on that occasion.114 In this context, the illustrated bed symbolises the mother’s confinement, in which she was bed-ridden for thirty days after the birth,115 as stated in the Nuremberg Miscellany, in compliance with numerous rabbinic rulings.116 A detailed account of the Hollekreisch is provided by Yuzpi Shamash from Worms.117 According to his account, after the Shabbat meal, boys under bar miẓvah age (thirteen) gather in the home of the newborn male baby for the ceremony, which he names “Holle Kreisch.”118 After reciting the prescribed texts, they raise the infant in its crib and cry aloud: “Holle Kreisch, wie soll das Kind heißen” (i.e.,

114 Based on Lev 12:6–7. 115 On the mother’s confinement as a liminal period, see Nissan Rubin, The Beginning of Life. Rites of Birth, Circumcision and Redemption of the First-Born in the Talmud and Midrash (Tel Aviv: Hakkibutz Hameuchad, 1995), 19–21 (Hebrew). This period of confinement is shorter than the local folk custom that prevailed among non-Jewish women in the German-speaking realm, where the parturient mother was house-bound for six weeks, during which she was considered unclean and in danger from all sorts of evil. Hence, this period is called “Sechswochen.” See Johann Christian August Heyse, Handwörterbuch der deutschen Sprache, mit Hinsicht auf Rechtschreibung, Abstammung und Bildung, Biegung und Fügung der Wörter, so wie auf deren Sinnverwandschaft (Magdeburg: W. Heinrichshofen, 1849), 2. Theiles zwiete Abtheilung, 869. See also 1971. 116 Other sources quote a different duration of this period. The difference in the number of the confinement days is probably regionally and chronologically bound, but may also have to do with a dissimilar mode of counting, by which the seven days of impurity immediately after birth until the circumcision, are—or are not—included. Johannes Buxtorf, for example, mentions six weeks in this context, while Yuzpi, the Beadle of Worms relates to the fourth Shabbat after birthgiving. See Schammes, Minhagim deḲ.Ḳ., part 2, §288, 158–159. 117 A precursor of the ceremony with some of its characteristics is described by R. Simha of Vitry in Maḥzor Vitry §507, s.v. ‫ומנהג לאחר‬. A similar observance, though not identical in all its details, is reported by R. Judah b. Samuel heḤasid of Regensburg, Sefer Ḥassidim, §1140. Later, in the fifteenth century, R. Moses b. Isaac haLevi Minz already uses the term “Hol Kreisch” in his Responsa (Jerusalem, 1990 ed.), 37. Of the numerous studies that have been published on the Hollekreisch, only a few will be mentioned here. See Max Grunwald, “Hollekreisch,” Der Morgen 3 (1936–1937): 126–129; Christoph Daxelmüller, “Namenmagie und Aberglaube, Namenmystik, Namenspott und Volksglaube, Namenbrauch und Frömmigkeit,” in Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, ed. Ernst Eichler et al. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1996), 1866–1875; Jill Hammer, “Holle’s Pond,” Bridges 10, no. 2 (Autumn, 2005): 59–62; as well as Martha Keil, “Lilith und Hollekreisch. Schwangerschaft, Geburt und Wochenbett im Judentum des deutschen Spätmittelalters,” in In Aller Anfang: Geburt, Birth, Naissance, ed. Gabriele Dorffner and Sonia Horn (Vienna: Verlagshaus der Ärtzte, 2005), 145–172. See also Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, who deals with the custom only briefly on 96. 118 In his spelling: ‫הול 'י קרייא'ש‬. The text pertaining to the ceremony is found in Hamburger and Zimmer, Minhagim de-K.K. Vermaysa, part II, §288, 160–164. See also ibid., nn. 29–38.

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 379

“Hollekreisch! How shall the baby be called?”). The children then proclaim the infant’s name aloud three times,119 after which they are given fruit and depart.120 Yuzpi the Beadle provides, as it were, a literary caption for the images on fols. 43v-44r, which are, in fact, two sequels of the same scene. The woman on fol. 43v is probably the mother, who serves fruit to the children after the ceremony, as inscribed on fol. 34v (see Figure 147). Indeed, the text above the image does mention a festive meal that takes place on this occasion, and makes special reference to fruit. The insistence on fruit being part of the meal, found both in rabbinical sources and in the illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany, presumably derives from the common Hebrew root for the words “fruit” and “procreation”— .‫ה‬.‫ר‬.‫—פ‬while also alluding to the Divine benediction to the primordial couple, “Be fruitful and multiply,” repeated four times in the Book of Genesis.121

Figure 147: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v: [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)] 119 The details of the ceremony are closely related to a local German custom, described by V. Washnitius, “Perht, Holda und verwandte Gestalten: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen religionsgeschichte,” in Sitzungsberichte der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaft in Wien, Philosophische-historische Klasse, Bd. 174, Dissertation 2, Vienna (1914), 321. 120 Cf. the ceremony in Alsace as described by Freddy Raphaël, “Rites de naissance et médecine populaire dans le judaïsme rural d’Alsace,” Ethnologie française (n.s.) 1, nos. 3–4 (1971): 83–94. 121 Gen 1:24, 28; 9:1, 7.

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On the table, to the far left, stand a decanter and a tall green glass, of the type called “Nuppenglasbecher” mentioned earlier (see Figure 148). An open book, also laid on the table, reads on the right ‫וַ ּיְ ֻכלּו‬, namely the initial word of Genesis 2:1: “[Heaven and earth] were completed [with all their hosts],” which is the opening of the kiddush for the eve of Shabbat. The left page carries the enigmatic inscription ‫ת"ש"ר"ק‬, which represents the last four letters of the Hebrew alphabet in reverse order.

Figure 148: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Yuzpi tells us that the ceremony typically took place on Shabbat. It it only natural, then, that the first text in the open book laid on the table on fol. 34v contains the initial word of the verse in Genesis 2:1, ‫וַ יְ ֻכּלּו‬, which begins the recapitulation of God’s Creation over the six days and of His rest on the seventh day. This inscription is an indication of the Shabbat during which the ceremony is taking place. Another detail linking the ceremony to Shabbat is the abbreviation ‫ת"ש"ר"ק‬, found on the recto (left-hand side) of the open book depicted in the manuscript.122 It is often used as an acrostic in piyyuṭim such as the anonymous Tikkanta 122 The abbreviation also stands for the order of sounding one of the sequences of the different shofar blasts, ‫ תקיעה‬,‫ תרועה‬,‫ שברים‬,‫ תקיעה‬, which probably has nothing to do with the scene under discussion.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 381

Shabbat (‫)ּת ַּכנְ ָּת ַׁש ָּבת‬, ִ 123 recited as part of the 'amidah of the musaf (lit. “additional”) service for Shabbat morning according to the Ashkenazi rite. Arranged in a reverse Hebrew alphabetical order, its first stanzas begin with the same letters as those inscribed in the book. The choice of this text, moreover, indicates the exact time of performing the Hollekreisch, in agreement with Yuzpi, namely after the Shabbat meal, consumed upon returning from the synagogue.124 Whereas the circumcision remains a male-centred tradition, the Hollekreisch entered the medieval German Jewish tradition as a baby-naming ceremony for both girls and boys.125 It evokes the Teutonic goddess Holle (or Frau Holle),126 also known as Holda or Hulda of the pre-Christian Germanic mythology,127 associated with birth, love, death, the earth, winter, and possibly also with the Roman goddess Venus.128 She was believed to keep the souls of babies underground or in

123 This very early piyyuṭ is already included in Seder Rav Amram Ga’on in the mid-ninth century, and was incorporated into Ashkenazi prayer books in the earliest extant manuscripts. It is mentioned in Ṭur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim, §286, where it is said that the concept of the reversed alphabetical acrostic is founded on the first word, ‫“( ֶא ְׁש ְר ָקה‬I will hiss”) in Zech 10:9, which is a prophecy of redemption: “I will hiss [for them] and gather them, for I have redeemed them; and they shall increase as they have increased.” See also Maḥzor Vitry, ed. Goldshmidt, vol. 1, 199. 124 See fol. 34v: ‫( וקורין לאותה שבת הולקראייש‬And they call that Shabbat Hollekreisch). In some communities, the Hollekreisch was held on another day of the week. 125 For a discussion of the naming of girls, see Omi Morgenstern Leissner, “Jewish Women’s Naming Rites and the Rights of Jewish Women,” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women’s Studies & Gender Issues 4: Feminist Interpretations of Rabbinic Literature (Fall, 5762/2001): 140–177. 126 See further Lotte Motz, “The Winter Goddess: Percht, Holda, and Related Figures,” Folklore 95, no. 2 (1984): 151–166. The tale of Frau Holle is a German folktale that circulated among the people for generations and was finally recorded by the Brothers Grimm. It was first published in 1812 as part of Children’s and Household Tales (tale number 24). The tale of Frau Holle is classified as Type 480, “The Kind and the Unkind Girls”, according to Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson, The Types of the Folktale: A Classification and Bibliography (FF Communications, no. 184) (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1961). See also Hans-Jörg Uther, The Types of International Folktales: A Classification and Bibliography, 3 vols. (FF Communications, nos. 284–86) (Helsinki: Soumalainen Tiedeakatemia, 2004), passim. 127 Other names of the same deity are mentioned by Jill Hammer, “Holle’s Cry: Unearthing a Birth Goddess in a German Jewish Naming Ceremony,” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women’s Studies and Gender Issues 9 (Spring, 5765/2005): 62. For some reason, the myth of Holle became predominantly influential in Central Europe, especially in Germany, despite the existence of similar female deities in folk belief in the Middle Ages also elsewhere. On the possible ambivalence of invoking Holle in the early days, see op. cit., 62–87. Cf. also Erika Timm, Frau Holle, Frau Percht und verwandte Gestalten (Stuttgart: Hirzel 2003). 128 A study on the connection between Holda and Venus in Germanic folk culture was published by Edgar A. List, “Holda and the Venusberg,” The Journal of American Folklore 73, no. 290 (1960): 307–311.

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a well before they came into the world and steal them from their mothers when they were not properly guarded,129 a notion not dissimilar to the legend of Lilith from the ancient Jewish mythology.130 The permeation the Holle myth into the popular German-Jewish belief system represents, in fact, the convergence of a local cultural tradition with the Jewish narrative of Lilith. In the Hollekreisch, the Jewish child is lifted up in its cradle, physically detaching it from the earth (or removing it out of the well), thus symbolically rupturing its ties with the Germanic goddess and disabling her malevolent powers.131 A significant difference, though, between the celebration of the Hollekreisch for a newborn boy and a girl can be discerned from the words of the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany himself, who distinguishes between young boys who lift the crib for an infant baby boy, whereas girls do the same for an infant female child. The fact that, in the image, it is boys performing the celebration indicates that it indeed portrays the birth of a baby boy, as suggested earlier. Other ways of protecting the child include a variety of apotropaic measures that are specifically directed against the evil intents of Lilith and her consorts.132 These safeguarding devices include the placement of amulets and other objects and symbols near the baby and its crib,133 such as the Magen David, composed of two intertwined equilateral triangles, carved on the narrow side of the crib

129 Protection of the unbaptised infant against demons, the evil eye, and other perils was considered of utmost importance, and many measures were taken for its wellbeing until recent years. See mainly Ludwig Herold, “Volksbrauch und Volksglaube bei Geburt und Taufe im Karlsbader Bezirk,” Hessische Blätter für Volkskunde XLIV (1953): 14–20. 130 Early references to Lilith in rabbinic literature appear in BT Niddah 24b, 'Eruvin 18b and 100b, and Shabbat 151b. On the myth of Lilith in ancient and medieval rabbinic literature, see Marlene E. Mondriaan, “Lilith and Eve – Wives of Adam,” Old Testament Essays 18, no. 3 (2005): 752–762; Bitton, “Lilith.” Further on the connection between Holle, Lilith, and other deities, see Joseph Perles, “Die Berner Handscrift des kleinen Aruch,” Jubelschrift zum siebzigsten Geburtstag des Prof. Dr. H. Graetz (Berslau: Schottlander 1887), 24. On the fear of Lilith and other demons among Christians, especially with regards to baptism, see Otto Böcher, Dämonenfurcht und Dämonenabwehr: ein Beitrag zur Vorgeschichte der christlichen Taufe (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1970). 131 Cf. Theodor H. Gaster, The Holy and the Profane: Evolution of Jewish Folkways (New York: William Sloane Associates, 1955), 33. Hammer, “Holle’s Cry,” 63, suggests that this act is meant to symbolise the separation of the child from its mother’s womb. 132 On the various means to avert the evil of Lilith, see Guiseppe Veltri, “The Meal of the Spirits, the Three Parcae and Lilith: Apotropaic Strategies for Coping with Birth Anxieties and Child Mortality,” Henoch 23, nos. 2–3 (2001): 343–359. 133 On the use of amulets to safeguard newborn children, see Herold, “Volksbrauch und Volksglaube,” 17.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 383

depicted on fol. 44r.134 The image shows two boys lifting a fully swaddled baby lying in a crib high above the tiled floor (see Figure 149).135

Figure 149: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Jews and Christians alike frequently decorated cradles with religious symbols as a defensive measure.136 Christian signs included the Pentagram or similar apot134 The symbol of the hexagram was thought to bring good luck, and as such was known throughout the ancient world. The Magen David is a form of this motif that assumed kabbalistic charges and eventually became a Jewish symbol. On the history of the Magen David in Jewish iconography, see Gershom Scholem, “The Star of David: History of a Symbol,” in idem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism and Other Essays on Jewish Spirituality (New York: Schocken, 1971), 257–280. 135 Infants were fully swaddled, much like mummies, at least during the first weeks of their lives, if not longer and up to a whole year. See Shulamit Shahar, Medieval Childhood (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1990), 140–143 (Hebrew) for the history of swaddling in the Middle Ages. See also Abraham Stahl, “Swaddling: Its Disappearance as an Illustration of the Process of Cultural Change,” Koroth 31, no. 8 (1983): 285–298, who illustrates the change in Jewish custom in recent centuries. For the Jewish custom, see further Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “The Danish Torah Binders,” in Jewish Art in Denmark – Jews in Danish Art, ed. Mirjam Gelfer Jørgensen (Copenhagen: Rhodos, 1999), 389. 136 Such as the crib from the mid-seventeenth century from Oberinntal, housed in Innsbruck, Tiroler Volkskunde Museum, TVKM Inv. No. F-803, featuring the monograms of Mary and Jesus. This, and other apotropaic measures, were intended to denounce the spell of the evil eye—a belief immanent in Western civilisation since pre-Ptolmaic Egypt. See further Karl Meisen, “Der böse Blick und anderer Schadenzauber in Glaube und Brauch der alten Völker und in frühchristlicher Zeit,” Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 1 (1950): 144–145. For the Middle Ages and Early Modern Period, see idem, “Der böse Blick, das böse Wort und der Schadenzauber durch

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ropaic symbols,137 particularly the monograms of Jesus or Mary,138 or the sacred heart and cross.139 Some even bear the hexagram that is formally related to the Magen David. One interesting example of a miniature German cultic and crib for the Infant Jesus is closely contemporaneous with the crib depicted in the Hollekreisch scene on fol. 35r of the Nuremberg Miscellany. The Christian votive crib, suspended from four columns, has a six-pointed star at its narrow end which is meant to safeguard the effigy of Jesus lying in it.140 Although it was known and used in Europe in synagogue decorations and tombstones in the late Middle Ages,141 the Magen David, like other protective

Berührung im Mittelalter und in der neueren Zeit,” Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 3 (1952): 169–225. On the use of amulets dedicated to the Magi for adults, but mainly for children, see W. L. Hildburgh, “Notes on Some Amulets of the Three Magi Kings,” Folklore 19, no. 1 (1908): 87. 137 A shift in Christian thought regarding the childhood of Jesus evolved in the late Middle Ages. In the thirteenth century, the Nativity Christmas crib was first introduced into the church, with a figure of Jesus in the manger. See Shahar, Medieval Childhood, 32. Paul Haupt, “The Crib of Christ,” The Monist 30, no. 1 (1920): 153–159, discusses the history of the Christmas crib and its worship within the premises of the church and claims, on 153, that the first such documented crib was set by St. Francis of Assisi in 1223. 138 For example, the crib depicted by Jeremias Schemel, “Veit Konrad Schwarz mit Säugamme” of 1561, showing the monogram of Jesus, HIS. It is reproduced in Jutta Zander-Seidel, Textiler Hausrat. Kleidung und Haustextilien in Nürnberg von 1500–1650 (Munich: Deutsche Kunstverlag, 1990), 74. 139 As depicted in the examples reproduced in Friedrich Pruss von Zglinicki, Die Wiege, volkskundlich  – kulturgeschichtlich  – kunstwissenschaftlich  – medizinhistorisch: eine WiegenTypologie (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1979), nos. 17, 18, and more. A much later crib adorned by zodiac signs, made in England by Norman Shaw in 1861, currently in London in the Victoria and Albert Museum, may well serve a similar apotropaic purpose. It is reproduced ibid., no. 443. 140 Zglinicki, op. cit., no. 467 and description on p. 394. A similar object from Flanders dated 1550–1600 is in The Victoria and Albert Museum in London, No. 7523–1861. 141 The Magen David as a specifically Jewish symbol is first accounted for in the flag that was used by the Jews of Prague due to privileges granted them in 1354 by Emperor Charles IV. Among other features, it displayes a large six-pointed star at its centre. Following Prague, the symbol was adopted in other parts of Europe, including Germany, much later to become the symbol of the Jewish faith. Gerbern S. Oegema has published numerous papers on the history and symbolism of the Magen David. See, for example, “Die Geschichte des Davidsterns: zum 50. Jahrestag der Einführung des Judensterns am 1. September 1941,” Tribüne; Zeitschrift zum Verständnis des Judentums. Frankfurt a.M. 120 (1991): 209–214; and idem,“Denn König David hatte einen Schild . . .: das Hexagramm als magisches Schutzsymbol und als ‘Stein der Weisen.’” In Der Davidstern; Zeichen der Schmach – Symbol der Hoffnung, edited by Wolf Stegemann and Johanna Eichmann (Dorsten: Dokumentationszentrum für Jüdische Geschichte und Religion in der früheren Synagogenhauptgemeinde Dorsten, 1991): 22–25; idem,“Zur Erforschung der Geschichte des Davidschildes: eine kritische Betrachtung.” Frankfurter Judaistische Beiträge 20 (1993): 175–209; idem, “Das

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

 385

symbols, was initially considered by Jews not as a national symbol but as an apotropaic device. As such, it served also as a means to safeguard the child against all sorts of lascivious demons—not only Lilith. These amuletic symbols were of great significance especially in light of the high mortality rate of infants shortly after birth in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period. While one may argue that the Magen David had long become the national and religious symbol of the Jews—a view fiercely refuted by Gershom Scholem—the existence of traces of much earlier usage of this device related to the world of magic cannot be overlooked.142 As Scholem argued in 1949, “It was not, therefore, as a symbol of the monotheistic faith that the six-pointed star began its Jewish career, but as a magical talisman for protection against the evil spirits; and this remained its primary meaning among the masses of the people until about a hundred years ago.”143 The Magen David decorating the crib depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany serves a similar purpose. Assuming that the artist was familiar with multiple apotropaic symbols, his choice of this particular symbol for the crib in the Hollekreisch scene is not accidental. Following Scholem, Marc Michael Epstein

Davidsschild als magisches Zeichen von der Antike bis zum Mittelalter.” Aschkenas; Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kultur der Juden 4, no. 1 (1994): 13–32; as well as idem, “The Uses of the Shield of David on Heraldic Seals and Flags, on Bible Manuscripts, Printers’ Marks and Ex Libris,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 5, no. 3 (1998): 241–253. See further Alexander Putík, “The Origin of the Symbols of the Prague Jewish Town: The Banner of the Old-New Synagogue—David’s Shield and the ‘Swedish’ Hat,” Judaica Bohemiae 29, nos. 1–2 (1993): 4–37; and Joaneath Ann Spicer, “The Star of David and Jewish Culture in Prague around 1600 Reflected in Drawings of Roelandt Savery and Paulus van Vianen,” Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 54 (1996): 203–224. 142 Of special note are the varied kabbalistic interpretations of the hexagram. According to one tradition, found in Genesis Rabbah, chap. 2, 10, §3, it symbolises the six directions of the world: “And the heaven and the earth were finished . . . (Gen 2:1). How did the Holy One, blessed be He, create His world? Said R. Johanan: The Lord took two balls, one of fire and the other of snow, and worked them into each other, and from these the world was created. R. Ḥanina said: [He took] four [balls], for the four corners [of the universe]. R. Ḥama said: Six: four for the four corners and one for above and one for below.” See Midrash Rabbah, translated into English with notes, glossary and indices under the editorship of Rabbi Dr. H. Freedman and Maurice Simon, with a foreword by Rabbi Dr. L. Epstein, ten volumes (London: The Soncino Press, 1961 [©1939]), vol. 1, 71. Due to its specific schematic form, the hexagram is also believed to be a representation of the divine union of male and female energy. See further Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic, 140–141. It moreover represents the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water, following the cosmogenic theory of the Greek philosopher Empedocles (ca. 450 BCE). Empedocles maintained that the four elements, which he called “roots” (ῥιζὤματα), are the source of all existing matter and that they correspond to the four cardinal directions of the compass. See more in Peter Kingsley, “Empedocles and His Interpreters: The Four-Element Doxography,” Phronesis 39, no. 3 (1994): 235–254. 143 Gershom Scholem, “The Curious History of the Six-Pointed Star: How the ‘Magen David’ Became the Jewish Symbol,” Commentary 8 (1949): 246.

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suggests that it was associated with Ṭafṭafiya (one of the names of archangel Meṭaṭron)—an angelic protector who is considered to be an intermediary between heaven and earth, but is also associated with the Torah.144 His apotropaic importance derives from the fact that his name is the numeric equivalent of Shaddai, one of God’s names that is closely related to magic performed against demons, both of which amount to 314.145 This multiple symbolism was especially suitable in conjunction with newborn babies, who are more vulnerable than adults are, all the more so when the infant’s perilous connection with Frau Holle needed to be disempowered, as the threefold lifting of the crib as part of the Hollekreisch ceremony set out to achieve. Once this had been done, the child was no longer under the endangering spell of this she-demon and the netherworld in general. Moreover, the connection between Ṭafṭafiya-Meṭaṭron and the Torah is echoed in the customary ritual of the Hollekreisch to place a Pentateuch containing the five books comprising the Torah, or only the Book of Leviticus, in the crib, expressing the hope that the child would grow to excel in Jewish learning. The emblematic decoration on the crib depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany thus served to introduce the infant to the world of the Torah through the intervention of Ṭafṭafiya-Meṭaṭron, who is, according to tradition, a “teacher of the Torah in the Divine Academy.”146 Eventually, in folk culture, the Magen David came to be associated with a star and, in many cases, was graphically blurred into and interchangeable with it. Such is the case in many German-Jewish marriage stones, which almost invariably feature one of these motifs as their main decoration (see Figures 1 and 127).147 In the eighteenth century, the Magen David became gradually more popular on

144 Epstein, “The Elephant and the Law,” 61. 145 See George Foot Moore, “Intermediaries in Jewish Theology,” Harvard Theological Review XV (1922): 62 ff. Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic, 157–158, explains that “Prominent among the antidemonic measures was the method of magic, the exorcism. All the familiar devices were resorted to – invoking the angels and the holy names, reciting Biblical verses, magical numbers, etc. Most potent among the protective names was Shaddai, ‘Almighty.’ It was inscribed on the outside of the mezuzah; the phylactery straps were so knotted that in combination with the letter shin on the head-box they spelled it out; it was uttered prior to departure on a journey; kohanim (descendants of the priestly), while offering the Priestly Benediction, spelled it out with their fingers; one did the same to fend off an anticipated assault by a thug; even the dead were afforded its protection, for in some places the fingers of a corpse were bound in such a way as to form the three letters of this name.” 146 BT 'Avodah Zarah 3b. 147 As exemplified by Naomi Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “Der Traustein an der Urspringer Synagoge— Beispiel für einen weitverbreiteten Brauch,” in Das Projekt Synagoge Urpsringen, ed. Herbert Bald (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 1993), 53–57.

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wedding stones.148 The adjacent inscriptions on such stones demonstrate the fluctuation between the Magen David and the “lucky star” and accentuates the significance and interpretation of the star in its secondary meaning, namely “omen” (good or bad; Hebrew: ‫ ַמזָ ל‬mazal).149 As such, it is reflected in the popular greeting ‫“( ַמזָ ל טֹוב‬mazal ṭov”) or “good luck,”150 spoken on festive events in Jewish life, including childbirth. An interesting comparison may be drawn between the crib in the Miscellany and a very similar one from the Jewish community in Mohelnice in Moravia, from the early nineteenth century, now in the holdings of the Jewish Museum in Prague.151 It has an incised Magen David on its narrow side, and a two-part inscription, taken from the circumcision liturgy, ‫ גדול יהיה‬/ ‫( זה הקטן‬lit. “[may] this little [child] / become great”). Despite its later manufacture, the crib from Mohelnice presents most of the features of the late sixteenth-century piece, with the addition of the inscriptions. The baby’s crib in the manuscript is studded with six small roundels along the edge of its long side, too small to be easily identified. They do, in a way, resemble the knobs that used to be attached to cribs for tying straps of cloth running criss-cross from one side to the other to prevent the infant from falling out of the rocking cradle or when carrying it from one place to another with the baby in it.152 Yet, such a hypothesis is problematic on two grounds: Not only does the image show no straps fastened onto the crib, but also some of the knobs are very close to the infant’s head; if straps were attached to them, they would unpleasantly cross over its head. 148 Wiesemann, “Masal tow.” 149 The word is synonymous with the currently used word, ‫ּכֹוכב‬ ָ (kokhav). On Jewish astrology, astral practical magic, and astral philosophy and its influence on biblical interpretation, as well as its influence on daily life, see Dov Schwartz, Studies on Astral Magic in Medieval Jewish Thought (The Brill Reference Library of Judaism, vol. 20) (Leiden: Brill, 2005 ). 150 Wiesemann, “Masal tow,” 88. 151 Prague, Jewish Museum in Prague (Židovské muzeum v Praze), no. 32.141, reproduced in David Altschuler, ed., The Precious Legacy. Judaic Treasures from the Czechoslovak State Collection (New York: Summit, 1983), no. 192, 21, fig. 16, and description on 259. 152 See, for example, the fifteenth-century woodcut illustration “Fahrendes Volk,” now in Braunschweig, Herzog-Anton-Ulrich-Museum, reproduced in Kühnel, Altag im Spätmittelalter, 119, fig. 135. Cf. also the image of the Exodus from Egypt in the Second Nuremberg Haggadah of Southern Germany, of the mid-fifteenth-century, previously kept in Jerusalem, Schocken Library, Ms. 24087, fol. 20r. The Haggadah is currently in the collection of David Sofer, London. Similarly, the baby Moses is depicted strapped into his crib which is floating on the Nile in the Schocken Bible from Southern Germany, of ca. 1300, in the leftmost medallion of the seventh row. It is reproduced in Cohen Grossman, Jewish Art, 55. A much later example comes from a seliḥot sheet of the Ḥevra’ Qadisha’ Qavranim (penitence bill of the burial society) from Frankfurt am Main from 1740, shown ibid., 126.

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A more plausible identification of these roundels is that they represent small bells. Pellets or jingle bells were thought in general folk culture to be active protective measures to ward off demons. This may, in part, derive from the ancient beleif in the power of iron and steel to neutralise evil powers, probably also from the effect of the noise they make as well.153 In Christian cult, bells played an essential role from the early centuries onwards.154 In the late fourth century, Church Father St. John Chrysostom (d. 407) felt compelled to protest against the custom of attaching bells to the clothing or bracelets of children that were designated to protect them from demons.155 St. John, however, did not succeed in his demurral, as bells had long been associated with religion and, more importantly—believed to shield against evil spirits. Tradition has it, that Pope Sabinianus (papacy 604– 606), successor of Pope Gregory the Great, institutionalised the ringing of church bells to summon people to worship. In 1501, a detailed calendar of the times for chiming bells during the liturgical year was created. Moreover, in the Christian Middle Ages, bells were often baptised, thus giving them the power to avert evil spells and spirits.156 Other beliefs in the power of bells as protection from malevolence were applicable also to church bells, which gradually assumed a variety of additional roles. One of their uses was to implore divine help against the tempests and the ferocity of the spirits of Hell. Accordingly, hermits had bells in their desert caves to drive away demons.157 Of special importance to our study is the impact of bells and their ringing on folk belief. One such example is the “childbirth bell,” actually a bell fastened onto a girdle placed around a woman in order to bring about an easy delivery.

153 Herold, “Volksbrauch und Volksglaube,” 19 and n. 116. 154 The terms used in this period to denote a bell are mainly signum, campana, clocca, and nola. It is unclear when exactly a bell (or bells) was first used not onlly to summon worshippers for services or other important events, but also as a signal of alarm. See Herbert Thurston, “Bells,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 2 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, n.d.1907), http://www. newadvent.org/cathen/02418b.htm (accessed March 16, 2019). 155 H. Jursch, “Die Glocke in der bildenden Kunst,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der FriedrichSchiller-Universität Jena 6 (1956–1957): fig. 20. See also Bernhard Bremberger and Stefanie Döll, “Der Betruf auf dem Urnerboden im Umfeld von Geschichte, Inhalt und Funktion,” Jahrbuch für Volksliedforschung 29 (1984): 71–72, for a study of the use of bells against the evil of supernatural entities, bad weather, or fire. 156 For a comprehensive study on demonology in the Early Modern Period, see Stuart Clark, Thinking with Demons: The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). 157 See David N. Bell, review of David Brakke, Demons and the Making of the Monk: Spiritual Combat in Early Christianity, Cambridge, MA; London: Harvard University Press, 2006, American Historial Review 111, no. 5 (2006): 1636–1637.

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In some parts of Germany, bells were hung on the crib as magical decorations and apotropaic devices, sometimes substituted by lead crosses.158 The little roundels along the crib in the Nuremberg Miscellany most likely represent bells,159 traditionally attached to cribs since Antiquity as documented already in early Jewish sources. A passage in the Tosefta Kelim (Bava Metzia), discussing the ritual purity and impurity of objects, mentions, among others, “bells for cribs” (‫יסה‬ ָ ‫)זֹוגֵ י ֲע ִר‬, with no further reference to the circumstances under which the bells would be fastened onto it. Such a neutral, unspecified reference to the object and custom at hand suggests that attaching bells to the baby’s cradle was so common that it did not necessitate any further explanation. A similar passage appears in BT Shabbat, which reads, “If one makes bells for the mortar, for a cradle, for the mantles of Scrolls, or for children’s mantles, then if they have a clapper, they are impure; if they have no clapper, they are pure.”160 It is not clear when the bell assumed an apotropaic role in Jewish folk belief.161 At a certain point, however, the prevalent custom of hanging or attaching bells to the baby’s crib ceased to be considered as a protective device in mainstream rabbinic Judaism, yet it was apparently adhered to in folk practice. As with other customs of pagan-superstitious origin, the initial association of the bells with magic was eventually replaced by a more rationalistic explanation such as the one offered by Rashi and anchored in daily life.162 Commenting on this passage, Rashi provides a practical purpose for the use of bells on a crib—as a pacifier: “And to the crib—in

158 Herold, “Volksbrauch und Volksglaube,” 16, as well as the description of their use against epilepsy on 19. 159 On the role of bells as part of the habit of the High Priest, see Cornelis Houtman, “On the Pomegranates and the Golden Bells of the High Priest’s Mantle,” Vetus Testamentum 40, Fasc. 2 (1990): 223–229. 160 Tosefta Kelim (Bava Metzia) (ed. Zuckermandel), 1:13. The same issue is repeated in BT Shabbat 58b, and later in the commentary by the Tosafists to Shabbat 59a, s.v. ‫ ;אלא אמר‬and to Hullin 55a, s.v. ‫ ;שיעורן בכדי‬as well as in JT Shabbat 6, 7:d. Bells as protective devices for babies were common among the Greeks and Romans. See Véronique Dasen, “Childbirth and Infancy in Greek and Roman Antiquity,” in Blackwell Companion to Families in the Greek and Roman Worlds, ed. Beryl Rawson (Chichester, West Sussex, U.K.; Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 311. The author maintains that in the Gallo-Roman culture, bells were given to infants of both genders. 161 Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic, 159–160 writes: “Medieval Germans believed that the crack of a whip and the ringing of church bells have the same effect .  .  .,” namely “to scare away the demons.” 162 Jeffrey H. Chajes describes this process as “The Rabbi Makes It Kosher”, looking into magic and kabbalah, in his article “Rabbis and Their (In)Famous Magic: Classical Foundations, Medieval and Early Modern Reverberations,” in Jewish Studies at the Crossroads of Anthropology and History: Authority, Diaspora, Tradition, eds. Ra’anan S. Boustan et al. (Philadelphia: Penn Press, 2011), 61−62. See also idem, “Magic, Mysticism, and Popular Belief in Jewish Culture

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which the infant lays . . . one hangs bells in it to jingle, so that the baby may hear [it] and sleep.”163 In other words, Rashi seems to have been familiar with this habit, but is most likely intentionally deviating from the significance and association of the bells with magic and neutralising its application in Jewish daily life. Folk belief, on the other hand, continued to regard the bells as effective devices to shield infants, as demonstrated in the Hollekreisch scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany. The Christian practice of attaching bells to cribs can be seen, for example, in a votive crib of the fifteenth century from the region of Brabant in Southern Netherlands.164 (see Figure 150). Another object of this kind is the “Crib of the

Figure 150: Crib of the Infant Jesus, Brabant (Southern Netherlands), 15c [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Ruth Blumka in memory of Leopold Blumka, 1974.121a-d]

(1500−1815),” in The Cambridge History of Judaism 7: The Early Modern World, 1500–1815, eds. Jonathan Karp and Adam Sutcliffe, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 475−490. 163 Rashi to BT Shabbat 58b, s.v. ‫ולעריסה—שם התינוק‬. 164 New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Ruth Blumka in memory of Leopold Blumka, 1974.121. It measures 31.8 × 27.9 × 18.3 cm. See William H. Forsyth, “Popular Imagery in a Fifteenth-Century Burgundian Crèche,” Metropolitan Museum Journal 24 (1989): 123 and further bibliography on 125, nn. 22–24.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

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Infant Jesus”—a mid-fifteenth century devotional cradle for Christmas, probably also from Brabant. This magnificent work of art is made of carved and polychrome wood, lead, silver-gilt, painted parchment, and silk embroidered with seed pearls, gold thread, tinsel, and translucent enamels.165 Perhaps the richest and the most sumptuous of several such cribs, known as “Repos de Jésus” is a miniature crib, probably from Liège, dated to the fifteenth century.166 The history and function of this unique type of crib has yet to be sufficiently studied,167 although its roots may have already been noted in the writings of the twelfth-century Abbot Guerricus.168 During the Christmas season, votive miniature cribs were placed behind the altar in the church choir in front of the statue of the Virgin as a special extension of the cult of the Infant Jesus, probably as part of the medieval liturgical drama. The believers would bow to baby Jesus and rock the cradle to and fro by pulling a silk ribbon.169 A similar custom was observed

165 The first comprehensive study of this type of object was carried out by Edouard NiffleAnciaux, Le repos de Jésus et les berceaux reliquiaires (Namur: Impremerie Paul Godenne 1896). Pursuant to this work, see Comte Charles Lair, “Le repos de Jésus et les berceaux reliquaires,” Bulletin Monumental publié sous les auspices de la Société française d’Archéologie pour la conservation des Monuments historiques et dirigé par le Comte de Marsy, Sixième Série, Tome sixième (56e volume de la collection) (Paris: Alphonse Picard; Caen: Henri Delesques, 1890), 224– 235. Further studies on such objects are quoted by Forsyth, “Popular Imagery,” 126, nn. 22–24. Walter Pötzl, “Das Kindlein Wiegen – der älteste Weihnachtsbrauch,” in idem, Brauchtum. Von der Martinsgans zum Leonhardiritt, von der Wiege bis zur Bahre (Augsburg: Landkreis Augsburg), 37–39. 166 Formerly in the abbey of Marche-les-Dames Namur, Musée provincial des Arts anciens du Namurois, Namur, Coll. Société archéologique de Namur, No. B0054. This fine work of silver- and goldsmithery, is made of wood, silver-plated with partial gilding, and adorned with semi-precious stones. The crowned baby Jesus is lying in the crib with silver bells hanging along its sides. 167 For comparisons and images of other miniature devotional cradles with bells hanging on them, see Lair, “Le repos de Jésus,” 230. The author, 233, is quoting Niffle-Anciaux, Repos de Jésus et les Berceaux reliquiaires, who lists altogether eight specimens known to him. In the P.S. on 235, he adds information provided by Niffle-Anciaux on yet another crib that originates in Friedberg (Hesse), Germany. See also the south-German crib from ca. 1585, in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseums, München, Inv. Nr. R1688. 168 Ibid., 12, citing: “Fratres et vos et nos invenimus hodie infantem pannis involutum et positum in præsepio altaris.” Guerricus, a.k.a. Gerhoh, flourished in Reihersberg, Upper Austria. He published his De investigatione Antichristi in 1161/2. 169 See the wooden painted crib from the museum in Cologne, reproduced in Niffle-Anciaux, Repos de Jésus et les Berceaux, 24 (unpaginated), as well as others reproduced throughout his book. These, and other examples, are brought by Zglinicki, Die Wiege, nos. 467–473, and their descriptions are found on 394–395.

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in the Middle Ages by novice nuns on Sundays and festivals.170 These miniature cribs were popular in the Low Countries and in Germany mainly in the fifteenth through the first half of the sixteenth century but survived, mainly in Catholic areas, much later, too. They were also used for domestic devotional purpose by displaying them on holidays. Devout believers sometimes donated them to a church or a chapel for veneration. Of the few remaining cribs, those that preserve all their embellishments are of special interest for the study of the use of bells in Jewish settings as well. One such crib, originally from the Grand Béguine de Louvain, is currently in the J. Frésart collection in Liège. Three jingle bells hang beneath the rocking crib.171 The same holds true for a wooden crib of the central Low Countries, perhaps from Brussels, of the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century. It is made of wood, originally painted and gilt, with three bells hanging from its bottom.172 A more elaborate Repos de Jésus of a similar origin retains a pearl-studded and embroidered covered blanket and pillow as well. A chain behung with bells is suspended between the figures of the Evangelists guarding the Infant Jesus at the two narrow sides of the crib.173 A close look at similar objects in which no bells have survived shows that some have small holes drilled into their stanchions, which, in all probablility, originally had chains with bells fastened to them. A recent addition to the discussion of votive cribs followed the acquisition of such an object to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, presumed to have been made in the circle of Jan II Borman around 1510.174 Iris Ippel, the scholar who researched it, regards it as part of a tradition of veneration of Jesus’ nativity in the Middle Ages. “The theology of Bernard van Clairvaux (1090–1131) and the teachings of St Francis (1181–1226)” she says, “were probably the spiritual basis for the more personal approach to God and were inextricably linked to making the divine more tangible.”175 Taking this evolving trend one step further, Ippel adds,

170 Rachel
 Gibbs, “Mystical Relations: A Study of Feminine Relationships with Christ in the High Middle Ages and Beyond,” Honors Program Thesis, Texas State
 University‐San
 Marcos, 2010, 33–39. On p. 36, Gibbs makes reference to the doll figures of Jesus that were sometimes placed in cribs, giving as an example the one
 given to
 Margaretha 
von
 Ebner 
by 
her confessor. 171 Niffle-Anciaux, Repos de Jésus et les berceaux, after 80. 172 Presently in Paris, Musée de Cluny—musée national du Moyen Âge, no. CL 23607 a+b (with case). 173 The crib is from the collection of A. Figdor, Vienna. See Niffle-Anciaux, Repos de Jésus et les berceaux, after 97 and 104. 174 Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, inv. no. bk-2013-14-1; purchased with the support of the Frits & Phine Verhaaff Fonds/ Rijksmuseum Fonds and the Ebus Fonds/ Rijksmuseum Fonds. See the study of the crib by Iris Ippel, “A Christmas Crib as a Meek Heart of the Late Mediaeval Christian,” The Rijksmuseum Bulletin 62 (2014) nr. 4: 330–347. 175 337.

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[. . .] the Augustinian monk Johannes Mauburnus (1460–1501), argued that novices (future monks – and above all nuns!) should use tangible aids – devotionalia – to support their meditation, to accomplish as it were a link between God and the soul of the believer. Cribs were able to fulfil such a function, more specifically in the devotion addressed to the infant Jesus. There were even printed devotional manuals, like the late fifteenth-century booklet Vander gheesteliker kintscheyt ihesu. The book explained ‘how one should swaddle the infant Jesus, lay him in his crib, bathe and wash him, play with him, rock him, lull him to sleep and sing to him’.176

In this context, the bells enhanced the spiritual experience by adding the aural dimension that serves, at the same time, as an effective means to ward off evilwilling spirits.177 There is reason to believe that similar folk customs, mainly meant to safeguard the child against Lilith and her consort, prevailed also in Jewish circles.178 Reading the midrash in Genesis Rabbah, one finds that Lilith is likened to a golden bell that disturbs men in their slumber.179 In a midrashic manner, the attribute of the potential assailant can be manipulated to combat it with its own weapon; the bells are there on the crib to ward off Lilith. Some support for this conjecture and for and the identification the small roundels along the Nuremberg Miscellany crib as bells can be found in relation to a celebration held for the naming of a girl. In his book Flagellvm Ivdeorvm, Juden Geissel, published in 1598, the apostate Ernst Ferdinand Heß writes that that maidens surround the cradle, in which the infant lies during the Hollekreisch, adorned with pretty cloths and behung with silver belts (“mit schönen Tüchern unnd silberen Gürteln behangen und gezieret ist”).180 The silver belts mentioned

176 Loc. cit. Further evidence from supporters and opponents of this custom are provided on 337–341. 177 331. 178 Trachtenberg, 160: “Eleazar of Worms suggests an explanation which has been favored by modern students of superstition; for protection against demons and witches one should strike a tool made of ʻacier, ʼ he wrote, ‘for metals are the products of civilization,’ and thus evidently antipathetic to the spirit masters of primitive pre-metal society.” 179 Genesis Rabbah 18:4: ‫ ַּב ְּת ִח ָּלה ְּב ָר ָאּה לֹו‬,‫הּודה ַּבר ַר ִּבי ָא ַמר‬ ָ ְ‫ ַר ִּבי י‬,)‫ כג‬,‫אמר ָה ָא ָדם זֹאת ַה ַּפ ַעם (בראשית ב‬ ֶ ֹ ‫וַ ּי‬ ‫ זֹאת ִהיא ֶׁשל‬,‫ זֹאת ַה ַּפ ַעם‬:‫ ֲה ָדא הּוא ִד ְכ ִתיב‬,‫ּוב ָר ָאּה לֹו ַּפ ַעם ְׁשנִ ּיָ ה‬ ְ ‫ וְ ָחזַ ר‬,‫ וְ ִה ְפ ִליגָ ּה ִמ ֶּמּנּו‬,‫אֹותּה ְמ ֵל ָאה ִר ִירין וְ ַדם‬ ָ ‫וְ ָר ָאה‬ ‫ זֹו ִהיא ֶׁש ָהיְ ָתה‬,‫ ַפ ֲעמֹון זָ ָהב וְ ִרּמֹון‬:)‫ לד‬,‫ ֵהיְך ָמה ְד ַא ְּת ָא ַמר (שמות כח‬,‫ זֹאת ִהיא ֶׁש ֲע ִת ָידה ְל ָה ִקיׁש ָע ַלי ְּכזּוג‬,‫אֹותֹו ַה ַּפ ַעם‬ .‫ְמ ַפ ַע ְמ ַּתנִ י ָּכל ַה ַּליְ ָלה ֻּכ ָּלה‬ 180 Ernst Ferdinand Heß, Flagellvm Ivdeorvm, Juden Geissel, Das ist: Ein Neuwe sehr nütze vnd gründliche Erweisung daß Iesvs Christvs, Gottes vnd der H. Jungkfrauwen Marien Sohn der wahre verheissene vnd gesandte Messias sey. (s.l., 1598): 81. In 1603, Johannes Buxtorf Synagoga, 127, cites this source.

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by Heß may very well be a sort of Schellengürtel, or a band of bells that was attached to the baby’s crib for protection.181 Beside the bed, a woman is shown holding a bowl of fruit. On the table, to the far left, are a decanter and a tall green glass (“Nuppenglasbecher”). This type of glass, usually made of greenish Waldglas, was characteristic of the Gothic period.182 Tall slim glass forms, like the one in the Nuremberg Miscellany, either prunted or bearing bands of milled glass thread, became popular in the second half of the fourteenth century in Bohemia, and gradually spread to the west in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The furniture in the composite illustration (fols. 43v-44r) is evocative in its own right. The four-poster canopied bed, like the one depicted on fol. 43v, was probably brought to Germany from Austria in the fifteenth century (see Figure 151).183 Alcove-beds, with an upper panel called “tester” or “celure”, came into use in the sixteenth century.184 The frame enabled draping the bed with

181 Allan D. Corré’s translation into English of Buxtorf’s 1643 edition explicitly mentions bells as he describes the performance of the Hollekreisch: “However, the convert [to Christianity] Ferdinand Hess . . . writes that . . . when the child is six weeks old, a few young girls sit around the cradle, which is decorated with beautiful cloths and silver bells. They lift the baby and cradle up a few times and give her a name.” See Johannes Buxtorf. Synagoga Iudaica (Juden-schül). Newly translated and annotated by Alan D. Corré, 2001. https://pantherfile.uwm.edu/corre/www/buxdorf/ (accessed March 17, 2020). 182 See discussion on Waldglas above, 141, n. 246. 183 See, for example, the single-leaf woodcut in “Die rechūg Kolpergers vō dem gesuch der iuden auf 30 dn,” made by Hans Folz in Nuremberg in 1480. It is housed in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Einbl. I.46s. See Deneke, Siehe, der Stein, no. 4/31, 180. 184 This type of bed is called “Himmelbett” or “Baldachinbett” in German. These beds were often decorated with various motifs, such as votive elements. See, for example, the bed from Deggendorf bei Blannenburg from 1781, in Ernst Schlee, Die Volkskunst in Deutschland. Ausstrahlung, Vorlagen, Quellen (Munich: Georg D. W. Calleey, 1978), no. 93, 75. Other beds were covered by a textile top stretched over the supporting posts. This form of bed originated in Italy and was founded on Roman models. For the history of beds in the relevant period, see Heinrich Kreisel and Georg Himmelheber, Die Kunst des deutschen Möbels. Möbel und Vertäfelungen des deutschen Sprachraums von den Anfängen bis zum Jugendstil, Erster Band: Von den Anfängen bis zum Hochbarock (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1981), 121–125, including another example of such a bed on p. 122, as well as further examples, photos nos. 346, 566, and 567. Compare also the Florentine bed from the late sixteenth–second quarter of the seventeenth century, kept in New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession number 68.162a–m (Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Alan S. Hartman, 1968). A contemporary four-poster bed, albeit collapsible and devised for travel, was made in Southern Germany, probably in Augsburg, ca. 1600. It is kept in Munich, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. R 909, and is reproduced in Eikelmann, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, 132.

Hollekreisch and Perils at Birth 

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Figure 151: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

side-curtains, meant to offer some intimacy and preserve heat. Such elegant beds were the privilege of the affluent who could afford the upholstery of the mattress, the fabric or fur curtains, and splendid carvings on the wooden frame and posts. Stuffed mattresses were placed on the bed platform and covered with velvets, brocades, or silks, similar to what the image shows.185 From about the same time comes a Renaissance canopy bed from the island of Falster in Denmark, currently in the collection of Kulturen in Lund – Museum of Cultural History and Open-Air Museum (see Figure 152).186 Both wooden beds

185 One such bed can be seen in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. HG 1525. Almost contemporary with the bed depicted in the Nuremberg Miscellany, this bed, made of pear wood and alabaster, is known to have been made in 1601 for Paulus II and Anna Scheurl, a patrician silk-dealer family. See Maué and Kupper, Treasures, 93. See also Ralf Schürer, “Rarität und Meisterwerk, Katalogeinträge,” in Faszination Meisterwerk. Dürer, Rembrandt, Riemenschneider. Ausstellungskatalog (Nuremberg: Germanisches Nationalmuseum, 2004), 90–92. 186 Lund, Kulturen in Lund – Museum of Cultural History and Open-Air Museum, no. KM 8061. This specific oak bed, called “Vraaseng” in Danish, was originally polychrome. It was intended

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Figure 152: Four-poster bed, Falster Island (Denmark), ca. 1600 [Lund, Kulturen in Lund – Museum of Cultural History and Open-Air Museum, no. KM 8061]

share a similar structure, with decorative handling of their posts and frame (bedstead). The state-of-the-art bed shown in the Nuremberg Miscellany therefore reflects the social status of the patron, most probably also that of the recipient of the manuscript. The same holds true for the rocking crib in which the baby is lying. In that period, the lower classes still used either the traditional box-shaped crib or the wicker version. Thus, both furniture items are additional evidence of the affluent surrounding of the manuscript.

for placement in a corner. It was therefore not decorated on all four sides. I am grateful to Karin Hindfelt for providing information about the object.

Chapter 11 Home Liturgies for Festivals Jacob and Esau Fol. 41r in the Nuremberg Miscellany contains two enigmatic images. Divided horizontally by a ground-line, they appear after the text of the kiddush for Rosh haShanah and the three Pilgrimage Festivals, and before the benediction for 'eruv tavshilin.1 The scenes, set one above the other, occupy the bottom half of the page, with no apparent connection to the text that precedes or follows them (see Figure 153). The upper image shows three figures, all identified by inscriptions beside their heads, rendered in semi-cursive script. On the right-hand side, Isaac sits on a high-backed chair, beautifully carved and colourfully ornamented, with cushions placed on the seat,2 his feet resting on a footstool. The young Jacob, dressed in full elegance, stands beside him, holding a dish in his hands with his head slightly bowed down towards his father. On the left-hand side, separated from father and son, stands Rebecca, holding a cooking grill in her right hand and carrying a bowl with a fish in her left. The scene is an illustration of Genesis 27, the story of Isaac blessing his sons, Jacob and Esau. This is a story of faith and deceit, the deathbed blessings of a father, twin sibling rivalry, and the excessive love of a mother for one of her offspring and the father’s preference for the one over the other.3 The visual render1 'Eruv tavshilin (lit. “mixture of [cooked] foods”) is a halakhic solution offered to the prohibition to prepare food on a festival day that occurs on Friday for consumption on the ensuing Shabbat. Normally, cooking is allowed on Jewish holidays (though not on Shabbat), but only for consumption on that day, and not for the next day. It may be done only over a flame that had been lit prior to the holiday. Thus, when a holiday runs directly into Shabbat, an 'eruv tavshilin is set aside in advance. It is the function of the 'eruv tavshilin to indicate that the preparation for Shabbat actually began before the festival commenced. This entails setting aside in advance food for at least one “meal” designated for Shabbat, by which any further preparation will be regarded as an augmentation of an already existing meal, as it were. The “meal” ususally consists of a loaf of bread (or maẓẓah on Passover) and a cooked dish, be it fish, meat, or a hard-boiled egg. 2 On the significance of cushions in non-uphostered chairs as a mark of honour, see discussion in the chapter on circumcision, 367–370. 3 This, in fact, is the second instance in which Esau is being supplanted by his younger twin Jacob, the main event being Jacob’s assumption of the birthright (Gen 25: 29–34). The natural right was not always automatically granted to its lawful heir in Ancient Israel. In addition to Jacob, the Bible tells of other circumstances in which the unlawful offspring obtained this right. Following God’s decree, Abraham preferred Isaac to Ishmael, his firstborn (Gen 21:12); Reuven https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-012

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Figure 153: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

ing of the scene falls short of representing the story in all its detail, especially concerning Jacob’s attributes. While dressed by Rebecca in “the choicest garments of Esau her elder son,” the fact that “she put the skins of the kids of the goats upon his hands, and upon the smooth of his neck” is entirely absent from the illustration.4 Focusing on Jacob’s rightful claim to the birthright, the artist must have preferred to gloss over this detail of the deceit.5

lost his birthright following the incident with Bilhah (I Chr 5:1–2, alluding to Gen 35:22); and Jacob preferred Ephraim to Manasseh, despite Joseph’s reproach (Gen 48:1–20). Similarly, the kingship was granted to David, the youngest of Yishai’s sons (I Sam 16:7–13), and David, in turn, granted it to Solomon rather than to his firstborn, Adoniyah (I Kgs 1). See also Daniel Vorpahl, “Es war zwar unrecht, aber Tradition ist es:”  der Erstgeburtsrechts- und Betrugsfall der Brüder Jakob und Esau (Pri haPardes 4), Potsdam: Universitätsverlag Potsdam, 2008, especially 55–79, in which the author places the story of Jacob and Esau and birthright in biblical context. 4 Gen 27:15–16. 5 For the rivalry between the two brothers and its reflection in the Jewish-Christian scism, see mainly Israel Jacob Yuval, ‘Two Nations in Your Womb’: Perceptions of Jews and Christians (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2000) (Hebrew); and the subsequent tranlation to English, idem, ‘Two Nations in Your Womb’: Perceptions of Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).

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The bottom image does not have any identifying inscription or legend. It shows a hunting scene, with a hunter sounding the bugle and his two hounds chasing a stag.6 A bird and a squirrel are resting on trees in a setting that is suggestive of a forest with grass for the wild animals.7 Unconnected to the text, the arrangement of the two scenes on fol. 41r suggests that they are somehow interrelated. Thus, by inference, the hunter must be a depiction of Esau, chasing the prey to catch and prepare a meal for Isaac. The backdrop of the scene—an open landscape—is different from that in which Isaac, Jacob, and Rebecca are shown and is thus separated from the events that take place inside the house.8 The artist’s choice to depict Jacob intercepting Isaac’s blessing by impersonating his brother, at the instigation of and with help from Rebecca, and that of Esau the hunter, in this particular place in the manuscript, is far from self-explanatory from the wording or context in the Miscellany. Immediately preceding the images of Isaac blessing Jacob and Esau hunting are a series of kiddushim for Rosh haShanah and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. They follow the special order of benedictions required when the festival begins on Shabbat night. On such occasions, one period of sanctity immediately follows the other, and the sequence of kiddush and havdalah needs to be reorganised to observe the holiness and the rites of both Shabbat and the festival. The exact outline of the ritual and benedictions at such junctures has been the object of deliberations throughout the ages. One prominent debate among the three revered amora’im (Talmudic sages), Rav, Abaye, and Raba is brought in M Pesahim. It was resolved with the acceptance of Raba’s stipulation that the

6 These are probably not beagles, which have been the favoured hounds for hare-hunting, as they are typically multicoloured and spotted, unlike the two dogs in the Nuremberg Miscellany. 7 The bugle played by the hunter fully represents the musical instrument of the period. See, for example, the bronze sculpture made by Leinhard Schacht (active 1580–1603) in Nuremberg around 1560–1570, Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Inv. No. Pl.O.2389, in Daniel Hess and Dagmar Hirschfeld, eds., Renaissance · Barock · Aufklärung. Kunst und Kultur vom 16. bis zum 18. Jahrhundert (Nuremberg: Verlag des Germanischen Nationalmuseums, 2010), Kat. 503, figs. 521, 442. The two hunters, though, are dressed in a different garb. 8 An entirely different interpretation of the scene is found in the Golden Haggadah from Castile, of ca. 1320 (London, The British Library, MS. Add. 27210, fol. 4v). The Castilian artist chose to depict Rebecca standing beside Jacob, while Esau, clad in a hunter’s attire, has already entered and witnessed the scene, with a hare hanging from a club that is resting over his shoulder. See Narkiss, Manuscripts in the British Isles, vol. 1, part two, 35, fig. 127. See also vol. 1, part one, 60. A similar iconography in mirror image appears in the Sister to Golden Haggadah, Barcelona, mid-fourteenth century (London, The British Library, Ms. Bl. Or. 2884, fol. 4v). See op. cit., part two, 52, fig. 161, and part one, 70.

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series of the five blessings is performed in the following order: blessing over the wine (Yayin), sanctification of the day (Kiddush), lighting the candle (Ner), separation or distinction between the holiness of Shabbat and that of the festival (Havdalah), and blessing the day by reciting the sheheḥeyanu benediction (Z’man).9 The mnemonic YaKiNeHaZ, which eventually became a terminus technicus throughout the Jewish world, is a reminder of the sequence.10 The term “yakenhaz,” as it was probably pronounced by the Jews of Ashkenaz,11 appears in the text of the Nuremberg Miscellany on the page preceding the two illustration under discussion. Fol. 40v includes a secondary text, rendered in semicursive script that is usually reserved for instructions and minhagic insertions throughout the manuscript. The inscription reads: “And if a festival occurs at the termination of Shabbat (moẓa’ei Shabbat), one recites yakenhaz: yayin, kiddush, ner, havdalah, z’man”—clearly alluding to the aforementioned order set forth by Raba. To the German ear, the pronunciation of “yakenhaz” resembles the expression “jag’ den Haas,” namely—“hunt the hare.” When contemplating an appropriate image to place in the space at the bottom of fol. 41r, the artist seems to have played a pun alluding to this term by creating a hunting scene—albeit, not a hare hunt!12 The hunting scene in the Nuremberg Miscellany calls to mind similar illustrations traditionally included in many Ashkenazi Passover haggadot in manuscript and print. They are placed in the section that includes the kiddush for the eve of the first day of Passover, the night of the Seder.13 It is followed by the consecutive 9 The blessing is recorded in vaious places in the Babylonian Talmud, such as Berakhot 54a, Pesahim 7b, or Sukkah 46a. 10 As per BT Pesahim 102b–103a. Cf. R. Isaac Alfasi in his commentary on Pesahim 20b. 11 Although the pronunciation of the mnemonic, as suggested by the abbreviated words themselves, prefers “yakinehaz,” the corrupted and subsequently commonly pronounced version among the Jews of Ashkenaz was, most probably, “yakenhaz” or “yaknehaz.” This discrepancy is easily explained by the fact that Hebrew writing is composed of consonants, with only few vowels sporadically inserted between them. When absent, diacritic marks may be added to establish the correct pronunciation, although most Hebrew script is devoid of such additions and, as a result, is prone to alternative or erroneous reading. The preferred diction of Ashkenazi Jews, therefore, does not change the essence of the mnemonic sign in that it retains the consonants that build the abbreviation in the correct order. 12 The hare, being a cowardly creature, has been associated with God-fearing in Christian theology. See Sancti Eucherii Lugudensis Episcopi Liber Formularum Spiritualis Intelligentia, caput V: De Animalibus, in Migne, PL, tome L., col. 752A. 13 According to the Bible, only the first and seventh days of Passover are full holidays and the commandments associated with the Seder are to be observed only on the first night. In the course of Jewish history, though, a second Seder was instituted in communities outside the Land of Israel.

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guidelines for the havdalah and special kiddush recited when the festival begins on moẓa’ei Shabbat.14 On such occasions, as in other instances when Shabbat precedes the festival, the “yakenhaz” mnemonic guides the sequence of the ceremony. Consequently, the preferred scene illustrating the relevant passage in some medieval and Early Modern haggadot is a hare-hunt.15 This not only represented the phonetic association with the German phrase, but also created a link between the Jewish Passover and the Christian Easter, both occurring at the beginning of spring and the vernal equinox. In early spring, the European brown hare (Lepus europaeus) becomes somewhat careless with its safety, focusing on playful courting and mating. Hernce the popularity of hare hunting around the Easter season.16 The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was probably aware of his non-Jewish neighbours going out hunting, with their special attire, horn, and hounds.17 A similar view is proposed by Marc Michael Epstein, who correctly states that “both the tale of Jacob blessing and the YaKiNeHaZ mnemonic demand the depiction of a hunter, and since the Jews did not normally hunt, they would have lacked a hunting iconography. Consequently, they must merely have adopted a Christian hunting motif.”18

This change resulted from the way in which the commencement of a new lunar month was determined. Once the new moon has been observed by “witnesses” and certified by the rabbinic authorities in Jerusalem, torches proclaiming the beginning of the month were lit from one hilltop to another all the way to all ends of the Diaspora. Due to the distance to some communities, this process was too time-consuming for word to duly reach them before the holiday began. It was therefore instituted that communities outside the Land of Israel observe an extra day not only on Passover but on all the Pilgrimage Festivals in order to ensure that they are celebrated on the correct date. 14 On the hare motif in Hebrew manuscripts in general, see Laura Pasquini, “The Motif of the Hare in the Illuminations of Medieval Hebrew Manuscripts,” Materia Giudaica 7, no. 2 (2002): 273–282. Further interpretations of the hare-hunt motif in Jewish iconography are discussed by Marc Michael Epstein, “The Elusive Hare: Some Observations on the Relationship between Midrash, Socio-Political Reality and Artistic Symbolism in the Medieval Jewish Intellectual World,” Orim 2, 1 (1986), 70–86; as well as his later article on the topic, “The Elusive Hare: Constructing Identity,” in idem, Dreams of Subversion, 16–38, especially n. 16 on 127, in which the author provides explanations for other hunting scenes in Jewish art. See also David J. Gilner, “Is that a Hare in my Haroset? Art and Whimsy in Haggadah Illumination,” Association of Jewish Libraries: Annual Convention 33 (1998): 160–165. 15 The hare and rabbit (lepus and cuniculus) are often confused or interchanged in manuscript illuminations, and are sometimes even depicted as hybrids. 16 In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, hunting had ceased to be a major means of obtaining meat. The majority of meat in that period already came from domesticated animals, while hunting became a pastime and sport in Germany. 17 A similar horn is depicted in Praetorius, Syntagma musicum, panel XXII, no. 4. 18 Epstein, “The Elusive Hare,” 19.

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The hare hunt motif was incorporated into the decorative scheme of the German late fifteenth century Ashkenazi haggadah by Joel Ben Simeon.19 It appears again, among numerous other examples, in the First Cincinnati Haggadah, copied and illustrated by Meir Jaffe in Heidelberg, of roughly the same period (see Figure 154).20

Figure 154: First Cincinnati Haggadah, Heidelberg (Germany), late 15c, fol. 4r [Cincinnati, The Klau Library, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institution of Religion, Ms. 444]

An elaborate sixteenth-century instance of the hare hunt is found in the Prague Haggadah, printed by Gershom and Gronem Katz in 1526 (see Figure 155),21 and 19 London, The British Library, MS Add. 14762, fol. 4r. 20 Cincinnati, Hebrew Union College, Ms. 444, fol. 4r. See Franz Landsberger, “The Cincinnati Haggadah and its Decorator,” Hebrew Union College Annual, volume 25 (1940), 529–558. For a discussion of the Yaqenhaz in medieval illuminated haggadot, see Metzger, Haggada enluminée, 98–103. 21 Fol. 3r (unpaginated). On the Haggadah, see Joseph Tabory, “The Art of Printing and the Illustrations in the Prague Haggadah,” Ohev Sefer 1 (1987), 15–28 (Hebrew). See also a later edition of the Prague Haggadah of 1590–1606(?), fol. 2v, showing hounds chasing two hares and a

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whose illustrations strongly influenced those of the 1560 Mantua Haggadah, printed by Giacomo Rufinelli with Isaac b. Samuel Bassan.22 The two haggadot enjoyed great popularity in Central Europe and copies of them may well have been in the possession of the patron or the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany.

Figure 155: Prague Haggadah, Prague: Gershom and Gronem Katz in 1526, fol. 3r (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-hebk-97, ekspl. 2] (detail)

While this explains the illustration of a hare hunt for the kiddush for the Seder eve that falls on moẓa’ei Shabbat, its inclusion in the Miscellany merits further consideration. A clue to this particular iconographic feature may be found in the book Issur veHeter composed by Rashi. Discussing the Passover ritual, Rashi presents the customary order of yakenhaz, followed by the words “henceforth [and] until the law of 'eruvei tavshilin [it] is not written according to order,” implying that the following passages in that textual sequence do not conform to any thematic logic.23 Rashi’s almost laconic comment alludes to the Babyonian Talmud in Pesahim, specifically to the content flow of the discourse based on the Mishnah in Pesahim chapter 10. After concluding the deliberation on the order of yakenhaz, it discusses random halakhic issues unrelated to Passover down to fol. 104:a. Only on the ensuing page does the Talmud return to the subject of the entire tractate, dealing specifically with 'eruvei tavshilin. Indeed, the following passage in the Nuremberg Miscellany follows the same Talmudic order, albeit entirely omitting

stag. The image is reproduced in Chimen Abramsky, Two Prague Haggadahs: The 1556 Edition on Vellum and the 1590–1606(?) Edition on Paper, introduction by Chimen Abramsky (London: Valmadonna Trust Library, 1978) (unpaginated). 22 Fol. 3r. In fact, the Mantua Haggadah was reprinted, with some typographic and iconographic variation, in 1568, still enlarging the scope of the readership of these famous haggadot and their illustrations. 23 No. 31.

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the random issues: the yakenhaz is immediately followed by 'eruv tavshilin, at the top of fol. 41r. Like other adult men portrayed in the Nuremberg Miscellany, the elderly Isaac wears both a moustache and a beard—in his case white. The eyeballs are missing from his face, visually depicting Genesis 27:1: “When Isaac became old, his eyes were dim and he could not see . . .” To be exact, the biblical text specifies “dim,” not blind, alluding to his deteriorating vision due to old age. Yet the context of the biblical narrative, in which Isaac’s impaired eyesight is immediately followed by his summoning his eldest son Esau to hunt and cook a meal for him, called for a different pictorial interpretation, implying total blindness, according to the artist’s interpretation. The special iconographic feature of the “empty eye socket” is not found in two Sefardi manuscripts of the first half of the fourteenth century that dedicate a panel to the scene showing Jacob offering food to his ageing father Isaac while Esau is on the hunt: the Golden Haggadah and the closely related manuscript, the Sister to the Golden Haggadah.24 Both manuscripts represent a different textual and iconographic tradition from that of the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany in that they show Isaac’s eyes quite clearly, including the eyeballs. The artists of these haggadot may have made a midrashic inference, allegorically interpreting Isaac’s dimming eyesight not as physical blindness, but as his inability or unwillingnes to see the truth.25 Isaac’s “blindness,” though, is not unique to the Nuremberg Miscellany. The title page of the Schocken Bible from Southern Germany of ca. 1300 shows a series of forty-six roundels depicting biblical scenes, two of which illustrate the story under discussion (medallions 9 and 10, counting from right to left).26 The miniature image of Isaac blessing Jacob portrays only the two protagonists. Conforming to the biblical narrative, Jacob wears furry sleeves on top of his gown to deceive Isaac and make him believe that he is the hairy Esau. Jacob is shown handing a bowl to Isaac, who, probing his son’s identity (or blessing him), places his right

24 Golden Haggadah, London, The British Library, Add. Ms. 27210, fol. 4v, bottom right panel, and, Sister to the Golden Haggadah, London, The British Library, Ms. Or. 2884, fol. 4v, upper panel. On the Golden Haggadah, see Bezalel Narkiss. The Golden Haggadah: A Fourteenth-Century Illuminated Hebrew Manuscript in the British Museum (London: Eugrammia Press, 1970), and idem, The Golden Haggadah (London: The British Library, 1997). 25 According to Genesis Rabbah, chap. 27, §66 and other sources. 26 Schocken Bible, formerly Jerusalem, Schocken Library, Ms. 14840, fol. 1v. The present ownership of the manuscript is unknown.

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hand on Jacob’s head rather than feeling his arms or neck. His eyes, to be sure, are blank, denoting his blindness.27 By omitting the eyes from Isaac’s face, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany followed a midrashic interpretation rather than the literal biblical narrative. The sages dedicated lengthy discourses to the reason for Isaac’s deteriorated eyesight and provided many explanations for it. Of the fraternal twins, Esau was the rightful claimant of the birthright, being the firstborn of the two. Yet gluttony and recklessness led him to spurn his birthright in favour of Jacob for a bowl of lentil stew.28 The first step towards Jacob’s supremacy over his brother was followed by yet another one. Jacob obtained the blessing, originally meant to be bestowed upon Esau, by circuitous means, through a scheme devised by his mother Rebecca. Carefully reading the biblical narrative, however, Jacob rightly merited the blessings, for that was what God had promised Rebecca when she finally conceived. “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the older shall serve the younger.”29 From this prophecy she surmised that from the outset Jacob was worthy of being chosen as the one through whom the Hebrew nation would continue. Following this interpretation, Rebecca did not devise her plot merely because she favoured Jacob, but because she viewed her deeds as the fulfilment of God’s promise when the twins were still struggling in her womb.30 Indeed, according to the midrash, “The two grew up . . . one on the path of life, the other on the path of death . . . Jacob embarked on the path of life for he sat in the tents and occupied himself with Torah his entire day. Esau followed the path of death, for he killed Nimrod . . .”31

27 The image of Isaac Blessing Jacob in the nave mosaics in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome, built around 432–440, suggests a similar interpretation, with Isaac’s eyes closed. On the mosaics, see Johannes Georg Deckers. Der alttestamentliche Zyklus von S. Maria Maggiore in Rom: Studien zur Bildgeschichte (Bonn: Habelt, 1976); and Heinrich Karpp. Die frühchristlichen und mittelalterlichen Mosaiken in Santa Maria Maggiore zu Rom (Baden-Baden: Grimm, 1966), plate 42. 28 Gen 25:29–34. 29 Ibid. 25:23 30 Hence, for example, the double-scene portrayal on p. 9 of the Spanish Sarajevo Haggadah of the fifteenth century, showing the moment of birth of the twins and their ultimate destiny: one as “a cunning hunter” and the other, “a quiet man, dwelling in tents.” The following page shows Esau returning from the hunt. 31 Thus Rav Tanḥuma in Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, chap. 31.

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This rather odd story gave rise to moralistic questions that yielded many interpretations. One of them connects it to the rivalry between Esau and Jacob in general and to Esau’s pursuit of the paternal blessing in particular. According to Midrash Tanḥuma, Isaac was fated to lose his eyesight so that he would be unaware of the identity of the son he was blessing.32 Unable to distinguish between the two, he was tricked into believing he was blessing Esau, his preferred son,33 to whom he had promised it. Finally, predestined justice was done. Isaac’s poor sight eventually resolved the rivalry between the two brothers in favour of the younger and more worthy offspring, according to God’s will.34 It seems that the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany wished to emphasise this reversal of roles, as it were, by illustrating Esau on a much larger scale than Jacob on the one hand, while showing the paternal blessing conferred to Jacob, as divined, on the other hand. The composition in the manuscript places the twins in close proximity to one another—despite the ground-line dividing the two scenes—and their mother somewhat separated from them.35 Her central function in the scheme according to Genesis 27:6–17 notwithstanding, Rebecca plays a secondary role in the illustration, where she is depicted holding the food, about to deliver it to her beloved son Jacob so that he might further present it to his father.36 In the biblical narrative, Rebecca plays an active part, not only as instigator but also as a participant in the plot, preparing “savoury food” for Isaac: two kids of goats, and bread.37 The artist’s deviation from the textual source is striking.

32 Tanḥuma Toledot §8. 33 Gen 25:28. 34 An interesting study on the interpretation of the events according to Jewish and Christian medieval exegetes is offered by Deborah L. Goodwin, “‘And Rebecca Loved Jacob.’ But Why?” in Transforming Relations. Essays on Jews and Christians throughout History in Honor of Michael A. Signer, ed. Franklin T. Harkins (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2010), 179–204. 35 The artist of the Schocken Bible omitted Rebecca altogether from both the scene of the Blessing to Jacob and the one showing Esau’s Return from the Hunt. 36 The aforementioned mosaic panel in Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome shows a setting that attempts to include all the protagonists in one image. Isaac is portrayed on a bed, blessing Jacob, who is secretly standing in his brother Esau’s place to receive their father’s blessing. Rebecca, who planned the switch, looks on from the right, while Esau is seen entering the room from the right. See Karpp, Santa Maria Maggiore, plate 42. 37 Gen 27:9 and 14. Deliberating on the number of goats, Higger, Pirqei deRabbi Eli'ezer, chap. 132, explains that one kid actually served as a paschal sacrifice while the other was made into delicacies. Rashi, in his commentary on Gen 27:9, proposes a different explanation: “As he likes: For the taste of a kid is similar to the taste of deer.”

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Given the fact that the theme of the meal requested by the ageing Isaac is actually mentioned much earlier in the text of the Nuremberg Miscellany, on fol. 2v, the image on fol. 41r is utterly out of context. Its depiction here is, perhaps, hinting at a moralistic way of reading the scene and interpreting its message. One is particularly stuck by the fact that the food that Jacob is offering his father is not represented in the illustration of the Nuremberg Miscellany at all. In fact, Jacob seems to be handing Isaac an empty bowl! Moreover, while the grill shown in Rebecca’s hand may somehow hint to the meat of the goat kids, the bowl of fish in her other hand is nowhere to be found in the biblical narrative or even in later midrashic sources (see Figure 156).

Figure 156: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Nonetheless, the artist seems to have deliberately introduced the fish into the scene. He probably followed an association with another blessing, similarly given by a visually impaired patriarch on his deathbed – Jacob himself: “Now the eyes of Israel were dim for age, so that he could not see.”38 In his benediction to Joseph, before blessing his grandsons, Ephraim and Manasseh, Jacob says, “. . . the Angel who has delivered me from all harm, may he bless these boys. May they be called by my name and the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac, and may they increase greatly on the earth.”39 The expression, “may they increase greatly on the earth” is an interpretative translation of the Hebrew expression ‫וְ יִ ְדּגּו ָלר ֹב‬.40 Commentators, including 38 Gen 48:10. Jacob was renamed Israel having overpowered the mysterious man (Gem 32:28), and again, returning from Paddan Aram, when (Gen 35:10) God revealed himself to him and said: “Your name is Jacob, but you will no longer be called Jacob; your name will be Israel.” 39 Ibid. 48:16. The fulfillment of this prophecy is recorded, for example, in Deut 33:17, or Josh 17:17. 40 NIV translation.

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Rashi, identified the relationship between the Hebrew words ‫( וְ יִ ְדּגּו‬Veyidgu, translated as “may they increase”) and ‫( ָּדג‬dag)—fish, both based on the same root. Many cultures, including Judaism, regard the prolific fish as a fertility symbol.41 The hypothesis of the associative process leading to the inclusion of fish in the illustration in the Nuremberg Miscellany is consistent with a general concept of the patriarchal blessing, which includes the promise of multiplying and becoming a great nation. The introduction of the fish into the scene complements the omission of the hare from the scene of Esau’s hunt (see Figure 157). Like some Ashkenazi haggadot, the manuscript substitutes the hare hunt, representing yakenhaz, with the pursuit of other animals: in this case – a stag, a bird perching on a tree, and a squirrel sejant on one of its branches.42

Figure 157: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

The Bible is very terse in its reference to Esau’s hunting skills: “And the boys grew; and Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field .  .  .” (Genesis 25:27). The early medieval Aramaic translation, Targum Jonathan, elaborates: “And Esau

41 The translation should have been “as fishes do increase.” The same idea is expressed in Targum Onkelos to this expression: ‫יַּמא יִ ְסּגֹון‬ ָ ‫ּוכנּונֵ י‬. ְ 42 Compare—albeit without the squirrel—an earlier depiction of the hart-hunt in a Bible with Massorah figurata from Germany, dated 1294, in Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Urb. I, fol. 817r, reproduced in Klaus Lohrmann, ed., 1000 Jahre Österreichisches Judentum (Ausstellungskatalog) (Eisenstadt: Edition Roetzer, 1982), catalogue no. 58, 318, fig. 32. The context here, though, is the end of the Book of Ecclesiastes.

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was a cunning hunter to hunt fowl and animals . . .”43 According to the Targum, Esau mastered the art of hunting of both birds and game.44 This may perhaps be extended also to the squirrel in the illustration,45 yet a sounder explanation simply draws upon it being one of the most commonly found animals in a Central European forest. Squirrels were, in fact, considered appropriate for consumption in European culture, and are often mentioned in medieval recipe collections. Another departure from the biblical narrative is the hunter’s weapon—a pistol rather than a bow and arrows (Genesis 27:3), reflecting a contemporary munition that was developed and came into use in the sixteenth century. The stag running for its life in the Nuremberg Miscellany is an integral part of Esau’s hunting story as well, although visual iconography usually tends to disregard it. The fifth-century Midrash Tanḥuma, and centuries later also the early thirteenth century Yalquṭ Shim'oni, deliberate on the length of time that lapsed from Esau’s departure from his home until his return with the game, during which Jacob’s deceit took place. According to the midrashim, as soon as Esau caught a stag and tied it, chasing yet another one, Satan acted in favour of Jacob by setting the hunted stag loose, thus prolonging the time needed for Jacob’s ruse.46 In fact, the image does not include the hare, featuring in the original yakenhaz iconography. Possibly, both the artist of the manuscript and those of haggadot in manuscript and in print refrained from portraying the ritually impure animal intentionally,47 the mnemonic sign of yakenhaz and the pun based on it notwithstanding.48 The artist may also have tried to circumvent the association of a hare with its Christian connotation, transformed from earlier pagan notions. In  Germanic

43 On the exegetical nature of the Targum, see Abraham Tal, “Is there a Raison d’étre for an Aramaic Targum in a Hebrew-Speaking Society?” Revue des Études Juives 160, nos. 3–4 (2001): 356–378. For an English version of the Targum, see Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, Genesis (translated, with introduction and notes by Michael Maher) (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark,  1992). On rabbinic attitudes towards carrying a weapon, see Israel Jacob Yuval, “Rabbinical Perspectives on the Bearing of Weapons by the Jews,” Jewish Studies 41 (2002): 51–55; idem, “Das Thema Waffen aus der rabbinischen Perspektive,” Aschkenas 13:1 (2003): 13–16. 44 Prov 6:5 pleads with man to deliver himself from the hunter and the fowler like a stag and a bird would do. 45 On food in the Middle Ages, specifically on the animals that were included in the Europen menu, see Weiss Adamson, Food in Medieval Times, 30–38. 46 Tanḥuma, Parashat Toldot §11, s.v. ‫ ;ויחרד יצחק‬and Yalquṭ Shim'oni to Parashat VaYeshev §140, s.v. ‫כתיב בזעקך‬. 47 Because it is a ruminant lacking cloven hooves, the latter being one of the two preconditions for designating an animal as ritually clean, or kosher, according to Lev 11:3 and Deut 14:7. 48 See Epstein, Dreams of Subversion, 23–25.

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pagan symbolism, the hare represents the “matron goddess” Eostre,49 also known as Eastre or Ostara and other variants and the forerunner of the term “Easter.”50 Because of its fecundity, the hare was adopted as a fertility symbol also by the early Christians.51 Making no clear distinction between the hare and the rabbit, the “Oschter Haws” (Easter hare) is documented as early as the sixteenth century as part of the Easter festivities in Germany. It was the culmination of a process of converting the symbol of the pagan deity Eostre, the hare, into Christianity.52 Considering this Germanic-Christian charge, especially concerning the extraordinary rate of procreation of the hare, the Jewish artist deliberately abstained from including it in his illustration. Depicting this symbol of virility in conjunction with Esau and his seed would have conflicted with the message introduced by the procreant fish in Rebecca’s hands, which, in turn, alludes to the offspring of Jacob. With a half page at his disposal following the text of the havdalah and reference to the mnemonic yakenhaz, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was drawn to the immediate, normative iconography of the hunting scene, reminiscent of the yakenhaz. He introduced his own interpretation into the illustration by associating it with one of the two ignoble hunters in all of Jewish lore—Esau.53 This led to the inclusion of a scene dedicated to Esau hunting, while adding to it, in juxtaposition, the image of Jacob. The Bible offers a brief characterisation of the twins as quoted above. And yet, rather than portraying the other axis in the biblical prophecy and showing the placid Jacob in his tent, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany chose to depict the oath of ongoing proliferation being conferred from Isaac to Jacob, thereby emphasising the continuity of God’s blessing to His People from one generation to another. 49 Designated in Latin as matres or matronae. On the various names of this deity, see Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch (16 Bde. in 32 Teilbänden) (©Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1854–1961; Leipzig: S. Hirzel 1971), Bd. 13, Sp. 1372. 50 See Carole Cusack, “The Goddess Eostre: Bede’s Text and Contemporary Pagan Tradition(s),” Pomegranate: The International Journal of Pagan Studies 9, no. 1 (2007): 22–42, who concentrates on the reference to this female deity in Bede’s De tempore ratione. According to Bede, chap. 15, “qui nunc pascalis mensis interpretatur, quondam a dea illorum, quae Eostre vocabatur et cui in illo festa celebrabant, a cujus nomine nunc paschale tempus cognominant, consueto antiquae observationis vocabulo gaudia novae solemnitatis vocantes.” See also Philip A. Shaw, Pagan Goddesses in the Early Germanic World: Eostre, Hreda and the Cult of Matrons (Studies in Early Medieval History) (London: Bristol Classical Press, 2011), especially chap. 3. 51 Sir Thomas Browne, Pseudodoxia epidemica: or, Enquiries into very many received tenents, and commonly presumed truths (London: printed for Tho. Harper for Edvvard Dod, 1646), III:xvii (162–166). The chapter deals with the extraordinary nature of the hare and its fertility. 52 The connection between Easter and hare worship is discussed by Charles J. Billson, “The Easter Hare,” Folklore 3, no. 4 (1892): 441–466. 53 The other biblical hunter is Nimrod (Gen 10:9).

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 411

To broaden the impact of the ancestral nature of progeny beyond the immediate issue of the parental-patriarchal blessing of Isaac to Jacob, the artist included another detail in the illustration that is barely noticeable at first glance. In another biblical narrative, God appeared to Abraham and spoke the following words of covenant to him: Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where you are, northward and southward and eastward and westward; for all the land which you see, to you shall I give it, and to your seed for ever. And I will make your seed as the dust of the earth; so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall your seed also be numbered.54

Abraham receives a similar promise at the Binding of Isaac, in which “the angel of the Lord” says: “That in blessing I will bless you, and in multiplying I will multiply your seed as the stars of the heaven and as the sand which is upon the seashore . . .”55 The same promises appear also in God’s covenant with Jacob and in Isaac’s blessing to him before his departure to seek himself a wife: And Isaac called Jacob, and blessed him, and charged him, and said unto him: “You shalt not take a wife of the daughters of Canaan” . . . And may God Almighty bless you, and make you fruitful, and multiply you, that you may be a congregation of peoples; and give you the blessing of Abraham, to you, and to your seed with you; that you may inherit the land of your sojourn, which God gave unto Abraham.56

Opposing Jacob and Esau once again, the story points out Esau’s deliberate choice to marry the Canaanite women, wishing to displease his father.57 The biblical narrative implicitly justifies Jacob’s supremacy over his brother, insinuating that Esau was duly deprived of his birthright and the preferred blessing, as he had sinned in disrespect to his father’s wish. Immediately thereafter, the Bible relates Jacob’s dream of the heavenly ladder: And behold, the Lord stood above it and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your descendants; and your descendants shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and by you and your descendants shall all the families of the earth bless themselves.58

54 Gen 13:14–16. 55 Ibid. 22:17. 56 Ibid. 28:1–4. 57 Ibid. 6–9. 58 Ibid., 13–14.

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Proliferating “like the sand of the earth” is the leitmotif in God’s promise to Abraham that was later repeated to Jacob. The metaphor of multiplication like the sand upon the seashore or the dust of the earth inspired the artist in his creation of the ground-line of the upper panel on fol. 41r in the Nuremberg Miscellany. The artist used a variety of ground types for his illustrations, often refraining from depicting it altogether, or illustrating a green patch indicating grass or other vegetation. For interiors, he usually chose a tile pattern, as he did in the scenes of the circumcision, wedding, and Hollekreisch. Only in the blessing to Jacob did he diverge from this norm to include knolls of sandy ground on which the protagonists of the upper panel on fol. 41r are depicted. By doing so, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany indicated God’s ongoing commitment to His chosen people through the ancestral blessings for centuries to come. The idea of a perpetuated promise for proliferation is stated in the midrash, with which the artist was certainly familiar.59 Another biblical verse that relates the same idea is found in the words of the Moabite diviner Balaam, who, in fact, spoke the words of the God of Israel: “Who can count the dust of Jacob, or number the fourth part of Israel? . . .”60 The beginning of this verse has been incorporated into the alphabetically acrosticated piyyuṭ that is sung as part of the havdalah, Amar Adonai leYa'aqov (‫א ַמר ה´ ְליַ ֲעקֹב‬, ָ lit. “God said to Jacob”). Anonymous and undated, it was evidently known to the compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany, who included it on fols. 28v-29r. The image of Isaac blessing Jacob on fol. 41r that follows the text of the havdalah must have reminded the artist of this piyyuṭ and inspired him to add the sandy mounds. The inclusion of the hunt scene provided an opportunity for the artist to convey another well-known metaphor, according to which Esau the hunter represents the oppressing gentiles. The identification of the nonpareil foe of the Jewish people assumed a different association according to the particular point in Jewish history, beginning with the biblical Edomites through the Roman Empire to the medieval Church, subsequently turning into a prototype for Christians as a whole. In this metaphoric construct, the hunter and his dogs (or only the dogs), representing the gentiles, pursue the stag, standing in for the Jews. It is in this context that the hart or the deer running for its life is often depicted in medieval Ashkenazi manuscripts.61

59 Numbers Rabbah, section B, s.v. ‫אלה פקודי‬. Other ground-lines may have existed in some basde-page illustrations, which have been cropped. 60 Num 23:10. 61 As described by Kurt Schubert, “Wikkuach-Thematik in den Illustrationen hebräischer Handschriften,” Jewish Art 12–13 (1987): 248–250.

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 413

This image appears in conjunction with various piyyuṭim that invoke this symbolism whether linguistically, as in (‫איֶ ֶלת ֲא ָה ִבים ַמ ְתנַ ת ִסינַ י‬, ַ Ayelet Ahavim Matnat Sinai, lit. “Gazelle of Love, Gift of [from] Sinai”), recited during the morning prayer of the second day of Shavu'ot,62 or thematically, as in the hymn Om ke’Ishon Ninẓeret (‫אֹום ְּכ ִאיׁשֹון נִ נְ ֶצ ֶרת‬, “Nation safeguarded like an eye pupil”)—a yoẓer for Shmini 'Aẓeret.63 Whatever the context, the rivalry between the historical figures, Jacob and Esau, was found suitable to portray gentile pursuit of the Jews as a stag hunt. In both liturgy and imagery, it extended a moralistic message of continual persecution against the Jews by Esau and his progeny. The paternal invocation calls to mind the traditional custom of blessing children on the eve of Shabbat. Jewish tradition highlights the ordination of the patriarchs to their offspring or to their disciples in leadership as the most valuable bequested heritage. The person conferring the blessing or delegating the authority recites it while placing his hands on the other person’s head.64 By portraying the biblical theme of Isaac’s blessing to Jacob and juxtaposing it with the image of Esau the hunter, the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany is also offering a glimpse into  the contemporary custom of the fatherly benediction. This custom is first mentioned by Moses Henochs AltschulYerushalmi (ca. 1546–1633) in his popular treatise on morals, the Brantspigel, published in Krakow in 1596.65 It  seems that the illustration on fol. 41r was

62 Such as in Worms Maḥzor from Southern Germany, dated 1272, Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, MS 40 781/1, fol. 170, reproduced in Schubert, “Wikkuach,” 249, fig. 1. The piyyuṭ, composed by Simeon b. Isaac, is based on Prov 5:19: “A lovely hind and a graceful doe.” See Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, no. 2960, 138. 63 See the maḥzor from Ulm, 1345, in the Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Vat. Ebr. 438, fol. 312v. For a reproduction, see Schubert, “Wikkuach,” 249, fig. 2. For the piyyuṭ, see Davidson, Otzar haShira, vol. 1, no. 85. 64 This gesture is not limited to an act of blessing, but is also used as a form of delegating authority. It is thus told in Deut 34: 9 of the death of Moses and of the way in which he assigned Joshua the leadership of the Israelite people: “And Joshua the son of Nun was full of the spirit of wisdom; for Moses had laid his hands upon him; and the children of Israel hearkened unto him, and did as the Lord commanded Moses.” Hence it became customary to perform a ceremonial placing of the hands also on the head of the candidate to to be appointed as rabbi. Similarly, Catholic bishops are nominated in this manner by senior bishops. 65 Moses Henochs’ book Mar’ah haSorefet or Sefer haMar’ah is a devotional work that was translated into Judæo-German by Phinehas b. Judah Heilprin under the title Brantspiegel. It is hard to tell whether the artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany was familiar with the original Hebrew version of the work or with the Yiddish rendition through an available manuscript copy prior to the publication of the Yiddish edition in 1596, seven years after he had completed the manuscript. The book was transcribed, edited, and published by Sigrid Riedel, Moses Henochs AltschulJeruschalmi. “Brantspigel”: transkribiert und ediert nach der Erstausgabe Krakau 1596 (Frankfurt

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meant to serve as a message that combines a blessing and a commendation, perhaps also a spiritual bequest to the recipient of the book to carry on the custom—in the narrow sense—and to perpetuate the Jewish tradition onto the following generations as well. Furthermore, it encapsulates also a promise of propagation, as befitting a gift from father to son, as has been suggested earlier.

Kapparot Shortly before Yom Kippur, some communities practise the ritual of kapparot, Hebrew for “expiations”, depicted on fol. 42v of the Nuremberg Miscellany (see Figure 158).”66 In this ritual, the head of the family spins a live rooster or hen three times over his own head and over the heads of his wife and children, symbolically transferring their sins to the fowl. A rooster is used for the males and a hen for the females in the family.67 Those who cannot afford a rooster or a hen – considered to be the choicest of the birds – may use other fowl or animals, or, in other cases, it is acceptable to perform it with money which is then donated to charity.68 The fowl is subsequently slaughtered and given to the poor for the pre-fast meal. The ritual of kapparot is supposed to avert any misfortune that might otherwise befall the participants as a punishment for their sins. The leader of the ceremony recites biblical verses (from Isaiah 11:9, Psalms 107:10, 14, and 17–21, as well as Job 33:23–24) followed by the phrase, which appears on fols. 41v-42r of the Nuremberg Miscellany: “This is my exchange, this is my substitute, this is my atonement. This rooster/hen will go to its death,69 while I will go to a good, long life, and to peace.”70 The formal procedure and the utterance are repeated three times.

am Main: P. Lang, 1993). For the relevant passage, see also Moritz Güdemann, Quellenschriften zur Geschichte des Unterrichts und der Erziehung bei den deutschen Juden: von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf Mendelssohn (Berlin: Hofmann, 1891), 167.‬‬ 66 See Trachtenberg, “The Folk Element,” 180, in which he describes the custom as a propitiatory rite, “compounded of offerings and magical acts, by which one may purchase or compel the good will of the spirits.” 67 Fish, too, is permissible for the performance of kapparot if fowl of any sort exceeds the financial means of the performer or if it is more readily available. 68 The one exception is turtledoves, since doves were brought as sacrificial offerings in the Temple. Using them for the ritual might give the mistaken impression that the kapparot are a form of sacrifice. 69 Alternative designations are respectively treated in the modification of the text recited, including a different text when the ritual is performed over money. 70 See also Maḥzor Vitry, 873.

Kapparot 

 415

Figure 158: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 42v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

Of obscure origin,71 the kapparot ritual may have been adopted from early nonJewish circles. It has encountered strong opposition from halakhic authorities, who considered it a pagan superstition. Further resistance was founded on two main grounds: the ban against any sacrificial offerings outside of the Temple, and ẓa'ar ba'alei ḥayyim, namely the principle of discouraging cruelty towards animals.72 The earliest known documentation of this custom is in a responsum by Rav Sheshna Ga’on, the Babylonian sage who served as head of the rabbinical academy in Sura’ around 670, and presumably represents an existing, earlier practise. Apparently, the kapparot were instituted to replace the Se'ir la'Azazel (scapegoat)— 71 The history of the kapparot and the changes in the ritual are discussed by Jacob Zallel Lauterbach, “The Ritual for the Kapparot Ceremony,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, ed. Salo W. Baron and Alexander Marx (New York: Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1935), 413–422. See also Simcha Fishbane, “The Ritual of Kapparot,” The Jewish Journal of Sociology 50, nos. 1–2 (2008): 67–75, and the translation of the utterance of kapparot on 72. Cf. an earlier study by the same author, “Voodoo or Judaism: the Ritual of Kapparot,” in Folk Medicine and Magic in Slavic and Jewish Cultural Tradition, ed. O. V. Belova (Moscow: Sefer, 2007), 32–58. 72 Fishbane, “The Ritual of Kapparot,” 70.

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the live goat over whose head Aaron confessed all the sins of the People of Israel on Yom Kippur in the Tabernacle, and later on by his priestly descendants when the Temple in Jerusalem was still erect.73 The goat, symbolically bearing their sins, was then sent into the wilderness, to atone for the entire nation.74 Rashi refers in his exegesis to BT Shabbat 81b to a responsum by one of the Babylonian Ge’onim,75 who described a custom of lifting a basket with some growing legume seedling in it and spinning it seven times before Rosh haShanah.76 The text recited on that occasion is similar to what is uttered for the kapparot. After declaiming the phrase “This is my exchange, this is my substitute, this is my compensation,” the participant would cast the basket into the river.77 The differences in the respective occasion and practices, however, do not allow for drawing a conclusive historicalritual connection between the ga’onic custom and kapparot. The controversy over the use of living creatures to perform the rite of atonement is recorded by R. Asher b. Yehi’el (a.k.a. Rosh). In halakhic rulings compiled by his son Jacob, Pisqei haRosh (Rulings of the Rosh), R. Asher is referring to a question regarding the “custom of slaughtering chickens on the eve of Yom Kippur.” R. Asher quotes the explanation given centuries earlier by R. Sheshna Ga’on,78 who offers a twofold rationale for the preference of a cock for males. On the practical level, the cock is commonplace in one’s household, while on the symbolic level it represents the dual meaning of the Hebrew word ‫( ּגֶ ֶבר‬gever), being both “man” and “rooster.”79 A classic visual rendition of the duality between rooster and man, on linguistic grounds, is found in an illustration of the prophet Ezekiel’s vision of the heavenly chariot80 in the Ambrosiana Bible from Southern Germany of 1236–1238.81 Whereas the prophet describes the four-faceted creature with the visages of a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle, the artist substituted the human face with that of a crowned

73 As it is stipulated in Lev 16:1, “But the goat chosen by lot as the scapegoat shall be presented alive before the Lord to be used for making atonement by sending it into the wilderness as a scapegoat.” 74 As told in Leviticus 16 and explicated by Lauterbach, “Kapparot,” 418–419. 75 The so-called Ga’onic period in Jewish history spans between 589–1040. 76 BT Shabbat 81b, s.v. ‫האי פרפיסא‬. See also Mordechai, end of Yoma’, for a similar version. 77 In essence, the custom described here resembles the Tashlikh, another ritual of substitution that is meant to placate the demons and symbolically atone for human sins. According to Lauterbach, “Kapparot,” 413, n. 1, the two were originally one ceremony, which was eventually separated. 78 Fishbane, “The Ritual of Kapparot,” 70–71. 79 Cf. Rabbenu Asher (Rosh) to Yoma’, 81b. 80 Ezek 1:1–3:27. 81 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS. B. 32 inf., fol. 135v. See Ursula and Kurt Schubert, Jüdische Buchkunst, colour plate 3.

Kapparot 

 417

cock. The exclusion of human faces from artwork, typical of the period and culture of the Ambrosiana Bible,82 is manifest throughout the manuscript. Instead, the artist illustrated a cock rather than its human namesake. The custom of kapparot, then, presumably originated in Babylonia and eventually spread to other parts of the Jewish world, from Spain to France and Germany, and later to other Jewish communities. In essence, it was meant to materialise the concept of atonement, and the ritual use of animals was ancillary. The image on fol. 42v of the Nuremberg Miscellany shows the father raising the rooster with his right hand according to the generally accepted tradition (see  Figure 159). Following the imagery in Isaiah 1:18—“Come now, and let us reason together, said the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool”—white had become the symbol of purity and atonement and thus the traditional colour

Figure 159: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 42v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

82 See above, 117 and n. 162.

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of the fowl used for kapparot.83 In the illustration, however, the rooster’s body is painted red rather than the traditional white, either as a reference to the passage in Isaiah insinuating the sins that it bears, or simply to distinguish its body from the parchment ground. Like the father, the son also holds a rooster in his hand. Yet, contrary to the other rooster, this one is being held head down,84 its body is outlined in dark ink but it is not coloured in, showing the parchment ground that simulates white.85 Pointing his left forefinger to his father, the child may be indicating that he is waiting for his father to perform the ritual with his rooster, since each family member needs his or her own fowl for atonement. Like the High Priest in the Temple, who entered the holy of holies to “make atonement for himself, and for his household, and for all the assembly of Israel,”86 the father must first “redeem” himself before he does so for others. Only after atoning for himself can he perform the kapparot for other members of his family.

83 The father’s buttoned jacket and short skirt resemble the habit in the print showing the portrait of the successful and prolific artist, draughtsman, and printmaker Virgil Solis (1514–1562), save the hat. The portrait was engraved in Nuremberg by the printmaker Balthasar Jenichen in 1562—the year of Solis’s death and Jenichen’s taking over of the workshop. It is housed in London, Victoria and Albert Museum, Inv. No. E.1234–1926. 84 The close-to-contemporary Minhogim Bukh by Simeon haLevi Günzburg shows the same scene with two boys and an adult, who is holding a cock head down, on fol. 53b. 85 The artist’s palette was rather limited and did not include white anywhere in the manuscript. 86 Lev 16:17.

Conclusion Manuscript production in Germany in the late sixteenth century showed a marked decline due to the dissemination of the printed book, including books printed in Hebrew characters. The cost of production, and hence the purchase of a book that was printed in a relatively large number of copies, as against the expenditure of hiring a scribe and,1 in some cases also an artist (or several artists), offered greater access to literature and a proliferation of every field of knowledge in ever-growing circles of society. The same holds true for iconographic motifs and patterns that thereby enjoyed greater exposure and mobility, mainly through the commercial transfer of typographic materials from one printing press to another, or the ability to imitate them and reproduce similar images in other temporal and cultural contexts. By and large, custom-made manuscripts thus became obsolete. In the Jewish world, scribes continued to produce sacred texts that, by their nature, need to be handwritten in order to be ritually acceptable.2 The Nuremberg Miscellany does not fall into any of these categories. It is an original and unparalleled compilation of texts of various natures, including liturgy, philosophical and ethical treatises, exegetical materials, and more. It does not fully comply with any known literary genre and cannot be compared to any other known work. Judging by its contents, it is presumably a sui generis assemblage of texts and images intended for a designated recipient on a special occasion and for a particular purpose. A significant component in the Nuremberg Miscellany deals with customs and rituals. However, comparing it to earlier and contemporary customal books indicates significant differences. While the customal books typically aspire to be comprehensive, covering every aspect of private and religious life along the Jewish year and life cycle, the Miscellany is of a much more modest scope. Nonetheless, the sequence in which the life cycle is integrated into the book calls to mind the slightly later Minhogim Bukh by Simeon haLevi Günzburg — in all probability a close relative of the recipient of the Miscellany. Günzburg’s book, in turn, was inspired by the customal book by R. Isaac Tyrnau, composed in Hebrew in the fourteenth–fifteenth century and published for the first time in Venice by Giovanni di Gara in 1566. Both the Hebrew and the Yiddish books of customs include all the rites of passage, and, like the Nuremberg Miscellany, they commence the life cycle with the foundation of a family in the wedding rather than with the onset of human life.

1 See 34 and n. 42 there. 2 See above, 35. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-013

420 

 Conclusion

The scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany, who was likely to have been also the compiler, decorator, and illustrator of the manuscript, as will be shown later, composed a book that contains texts of an essentially religious-practical nature. The home liturgies that he copied, compiled, or edited follow a long tradition and have remained more or less unaltered along centuries. Thus, the selection of the texts included in the book is of special interest for this study, much more so than the biblical, exegetic, and homiletic expositions. The choice of the particular texts included in the book may provide a clue to the identity of its envisioned recipient, the occasion for which it was intended, and the purpose and designated use of the book. More than any other known miscellany from earlier or contemporary periods, the Nuremberg Miscellany contains a highly personal choice of texts designed for the use of an unknown patron, recipient, or the compiler himself. The omission of any reference to demise, burial and bereavement is most probably not accidental. Evidently, the compiler sought out the more joyous moments in the life cycle. Moreover, the anthology has a strong undertone, indicative of a wish to leave a moralistic legacy. The prominence of issues such as filial piety suggests that the Nuremberg Miscellany was intended to be a gift from an older person to a younger one, most probably from father to son. While women are portrayed in the manuscript in several settings, they are seldom the main protagonists (save the scene of Judith on fol. 10v), but rather ancillary to the main masculine figure, as in the scenes of the kiddush (fol. 9v) or Handing Over of the Keys (fol. 11v). In other instances, they are shown as equal partners, like in the Wedding scene (fol. 34v), or as part of the “theatrical” setting, for example in the Hollekreisch (fol. 43v). Although this distinction commonly reflects the contemporary status of women in general, and particularly the role of women within the family fold, it is insufficient for identifying the gender of the person receiving the book. More insightful is the lack of any reference to customs, rituals, or prayers exclusive to women in the manuscript. Perhaps the most flagrant is their absence from the Shabbat cycle, which is very prominent in the Nuremberg Miscellany: They are not portrayed lighting the Shabbat candles—one of the three obligations prescribed specifically to women.3 Through its absence, this is a definitive indication that the book was not intended as a present for a woman, but rather for a man, probably at the age of transitioning from adolescence to adulthood. Taking this assumption from yet another angle, one is drawn to the depiction of the Hollekreisch—a custom known to have been celebrated for both girls and

3 Cf., for example, Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh, in which a woman kindling the Shabbat lights (fol. 8v) is incorporated again in the book as an illustration for the preparations for Yom Kippur (fol. 54r). See Feuchtwanger-Sarig, “Gender in Woodcut and Engraving,” 107.

Conclusion 

 421

boys. The artist of the Miscellany, however, sought to avoid ambiguity and clearly indicated the gender of the newborn infant who is the main celebrant in the ceremony by insisting on portraying two boys who are raising the crib. As a matter of fact, so did the scribe, who specifically related to boys, averting any reference to the parallel ceremony for girls. Another indication of the parent-child focus is the prominence of images showing inter-generational interactions throughout the book. The first of those scenes appears already on the opening page of the manuscript (fol. 1r), perhaps as a declaration of intent for the Miscellany. Serving as both a title page and a gateway into the book, it provides its visual leitmotif by showing an adult and a youth holding an open book with an inscription on it. Parent and offspring appear in altogether seven settings throughout the manuscript in three different contexts, pertaining to the year-cycle, Jewish life, and didactic message. Some of those are self-explanatory, including circumcision (fol. 37v) and Hollekreisch (fol. 44r); others are biblical-exegetical, such as the annunciation of Isaac’s birth (alluded to in the circumcision scene on fol. 36v) and Isaac blessing Jacob (fol. 41r), while others still are educational-moralistic, like the introductory image (fol. 1r), the havdalah (fol. 29r) and kapparot (fol. 42v). The inclusion of children in the illustrations of the Nuremberg Miscellany is of special significance. The presence of an infant in the circumcision ceremony and in the Hollekreisch scene is obvious. Yet even in the latter scene, the role played by the youngsters lifting the baby’s crib goes beyond the strict dependence on the text. The text indeed states that “the boys” are those who name the infant— presumably instructed by its parents—yet it contains no reference suggesting that they raise the crib above the ground, as described in other literary sources.4 This detail is provided here only visually, attesting to the artist’s familiarity with the specifics of the custom rather than his dependance on an immediate written source. Another type of illustration incorporating two generations is found in the biblical scenes depicted on fol. 41r. Clearly captioned and thus unequivocal, the young Jacob is receiving the benediction and legacy from his father. The scene below, in all likelihood portraying Esau, belongs to the iconography of the blessing bestowed on the two sons by their elderly, poor-sighted father, Isaac. Going beyond the biblical narrative and placed totally out of context, the images were probably included in the empty space beneath the text of the havdalah as an additional visual reminder of the duty to honour one’s parents. This, in fact, is the essence of the story of Isaac’s blessing to Jacob, conferred while his brother, Esau,

4 As shown on 377–378.

422 

 Conclusion

was out hunting for his father, as told in Genesis 27:1–40. It thus underscores the importance of showing respect to one’s parent from yet another angle. This group of illustrations includes also the heavenly guests visiting Abraham and Sarah and announcing the birth of Isaac, shown on fol. 3r. Although no offspring is present ad corpus in the scene, its virtual presence is the heart of the story—and perhaps of the entire manuscript. In scenes that are educational in nature, the age difference between the adult and the young person is even more pronounced. Beyond the first page that sets the textual and visual strand of the Miscellany, other images also show parent and child performing Jewish rituals together. The havdalah (fol. 29r) is conducted jointly by the father and his child, charmingly depicted standing on a stool to reach his father’s height. The boy’s presence in the scene is more than practical, as one person cannot hold all three objects necessary for the ritual all at once. More importantly, the artist wished to accentuate the fact that the child holding the candle is not a passive onlooker. This is the same message that appears also in the illustration of the kapparot ceremony (fol. 54v). While the father is lifting a rooster above the boy’s head, the child himself is holding a fowl in his right hand, pointing his left index finger to his father, indicating that his own redemption should follow suit. The interaction between the two protagonists is thus compositionally emphasised, implying a degree of participation on the part of the child as well. Both these scenes offer the artist an opportunity to advocate rearing the young to miẓvot. The Nuremberg Miscellany provides no overt information identifying its compiler, patron, or recipient, beyond its laconic colophon. Nonetheless, indirect information contained in the manuscript can shed some light as to their identities. The predominance of texts and images focusing on parenthood, educating children into a life of Torah and good deeds, and the consistency of this visual thematic even in scenes where the inclusion of children is not dictated by the topic or the text, support the hypothesis that the book was conceived of as a gift from parent to child. Notably, the only illustration in the manuscript that is contained within a frame is the one showing the circumcision. This formal-technical device serves as a highlighter meant to indicate the importance of the image, and hence the prominence of the event itself. On the other hand, the special attention given to the wedding in the text and the three illustrations directly connected to the cycle of nuptials (fols. 33v-34r, 34v, and 35v) may suggest that the manuscript was, in fact, a wedding gift—perhaps for the marriage of a long-awaited child. The three themes around which the Miscellany revolves, namely wedding, Shabbat, and the consumption of food and drink, further intimate the specific occasion for which the manuscript was created. It is conceivable that the first part of the manuscript was declaimed during the banquet offered as part of the

Conclusion 

 423

Sheva' Berakhot meals of the week-long marriage festivities. The Sheva' Berakhot are literally seven benedictions recited under the bridal canopy towards the end of the formal wedding ceremony.5 The following days are marked with a se'udat miẓvah on each day, in which the same seven benedictions are recited again following the Grace after Meals. It requires a quorum of ten adult men – a minyan. The presence of a large quorum of invitees on that particular occasion for which the Nuremberg Miscellany was prepared can be gleaned from the preamble to the Grace after Meals (fol. 4v), complete with the addition ‫ֹלהינּו‬ ֵ ‫[( ֱא‬we shall bless] our Lord), pronounced only in the presence of ten male adults or more.6 Despite the lack of tangible corroboration, this insertion strongly suggests that the occasion was, in fact, attended by a fairly large audience. During the special Sheva' Berakhot banquet of the Shabbat following the wedding, the father (usually of the groom) often offered a homiletical sermon in honour of the newly wed couple. In this special exegetical discourse, expounding on the pleasures and joys of festive meals on the one hand, and preaching the importance of respect to one’s parents on the other hand, were the themes chosen for the wedding of the recipient(s) of the Nuremberg Miscellany. It is highly probable that, indeed, concluding his oration, the father then presented the bridegroom (or the couple) with his special gift. Further support for this supposition comes from the study of the manuscript as a physical object. Given the fact that the first two leaves of the Miscellany were glued to its first quire to be subsequently joined to it,7 one is led to the conclusion that they were actually conceived of to be appended to the main body of the oeuvre. Indeed, the two added folios share common paleographic and codicological features and artistic style with the remainder of the book. A plausible explanation for the production of the book in two parts is that the main part of the manuscript was fully inscribed and illustrated before the event at which it was gifted. The sermon, now comprising the beginning of the manuscript, must have been initially created separately for the Sheva' Berakhot feast on the Shabbat following the wedding or, perhaps, for the “Groom’s Shabbat” (Shabbat Ḥattan) before the wedding, which was also celebrated in a festive meal in the presence of many participants.8 It should be noted, however, that the text of the Grace after Meals

5 They appear already in BT Ketubbot 7b–8a, although they are probably of an earlier date. 6 Only in the presence of one hundred men of age or more, the exclamation is changed and prolonged according to M Berakhot 7:3. This is not the case here. 7 The distinctive composition of the beginning of the manuscript, in which the text is inscribed within a decorative arch illustrated on fols. 1v-2v, is unique to this part of the Nuremberg Miscellany, save the “gateway” to the liturgical part of the book on fol. 3v. 8 This is the Askhenazi custom; North African and Middle Eastern Jews hold it after the wedding.

424 

 Conclusion

in the Nuremberg Miscellany does not contain the special additions for the Seven Benedictions. Instead, they are included in the section dedicated to the wedding and its liturgy, a fact that further substantiates the presumed event for which the manuscript was inscribed and illustrated. Serving as a coda to the moralistic treatise, the text terminating the first bifolium (fol. 2v) further reinforces the assumption that the Nuremberg Miscellany was initially crafted as comprising two sections that were conjoined and bound later as one tome. The poetic message, expressed in the plural, transmits the sense of parental legacy. In fact, the passage is the only part of the manuscript that is rhymed. It is a dedication that addresses some unspecified youngsters and urges them to thank “the One who dwells in Heaven” for the food He has provided them, insinuating the Grace after Meals. It then expresses the hope that the recipients of the blessing will live to make pilgrimage to Jerusalem and offer sacrifices in the eschatological Temple. .‫ע"כ האזינו התינוקות הקטנות‬ .‫כשתרצו לאכול ולשתות מעל שלחנות‬ ‫צאו לכם בעקבי הצאנות‬ .‫ושאבתם מי"ם בששון מהישועה מעינות‬ .‫ויפקח עיניכם והביטו להשוכן במעונות‬ .‫המשפיע לכם לברכה המזונות‬ '‫שבחו להללו להדרו ולבכם מכוונו‬ .‫ותזכו לעלות לירושלי' ברננות‬ .‫ולראות בנין ב"ה בבניינות‬ "‫ולהקריב על המזבח קרבנות‬. 9 ‫כ"י"ר‬: ‫אמן‬ The rhymed text is largely founded on and assembled from minute textual hints from biblical passages, liturgy, and piyyuṭim, yet its composer felt free to diverge from the original texts and adapt the verses to his needs. Wittily phrased, with a forgiving precision of Hebrew grammar, the declamation denotes the festivity of a banquet, appropriately concluding the discourse on gluttony of the earlier pages. Drawing inter alia upon Song of Songs, chapter 1, in which the bride is seeking 9 Roughly translated: So come, you little babes, when you desire to eat off of tables, go following the tracks of the [flocks of] sheep and joyfully draw water from the well of salvation. [Then] your eyes will be opened and you will look to Him who dwells in the Habitation (i.e. heaven), who blesses you with bountiful goods, and praise and glorify Him with devoted hearts. [May] you be blessed with pilgrimage to Jerusalem with a song and see the Temple constructed and offer sacrifices on the altar. Amen, may it be God’s will.

Conclusion 

 425

her beloved, the composer wove a brief reference to verse 8, thereby setting the backdrop of the event within a wedding feast.10 The result is a personal message, delivered or orated on the momentous rite of passage of founding a new family. Various details scattered in the manuscript provide insights as to the social and economic status of its benefactor, and probably to that of the receiver as well. The exquisitely carved luxurious furniture portrayed throughout the manuscript, discussed elsewhere in this book,11 is one such indication. The existence of such lavish items apparently as part of the family household goods unequivocally places the manuscript in the milieu of a high socio-economic stratum. Other objects and furnishings in the Nuremberg Miscellany’s illustrations are consistent with this observation, reflecting the latest fashion and quality craftsmanship available only to people of great resources. Most of the drinkware illustrated in the manuscript, for instance, is made of precious metals such as gold or silver gilt. Of particular extravagance is the double Buckelpokal, an ostentatiously tall vessel illustrated on fol. 9v (Grace after Meals) and fol. 39v (marginal illustration to the kiddush for Rosh haShanah). Most other drinkware is made of the luxurious clear Venetian style glass.12 It is plausible of course, that the prevalence of exceptionally valuable and luxurious objects in the manuscript’s illustrations was a way to glorify and wish the receiver a prosperous future. This, however, is rather unlikely in the case of the Nuremberg Miscellany in light of its artistic quality and the erudition it exudes. Illuminated manuscripts were a costly commodity that was affordable only to the most wealthy members of community. Accordingly, they were generally created by highly skilled artists. This is clearly not the case here. The artist of the Nuremberg Miscellany exhibits modest deftness in the preparation of the tincture, a rather limited palette of hues and, in some cases, bleeding colouring. His sense for proportion, shading, depth, and three-dimensionality is minimal. Furthermore, there is mostly no attempt to provide a background that could indicate the places in which the scenes take place. Those are clear indications that he was not a trained illustrator. His art most probably does not reflect examples

10 Ps 1: 8–9 reads: “Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you pasture your flock, where you make it lie down at noon; for why should I be like one who wanders beside the flocks of your companions? If you do not know, O fairest among women, follow in the tracks of the flock, and pasture your kids beside the shepherds’ tents.” 11 See 394–396. 12 Only in three instances is a green Waldglas vessel depicted: on fols. 3r, 31v and 43v, showing the tall Stangenglas. In addition to those, the Kuttrolf for breaking in the wedding ceremony on fol. 34v is, naturally, also made of the same greenish glass, being a commodity for common use and, in this particular case, meant to be shattered to pieces.

426 

 Conclusion

taken from professional model books, but rather portrays what he, the amateur, actually saw and knew from his immediate surroundings of Jews of social distinction and exceptional wealth. Unfortunately, the identity of both giver and receiver of the gift remains unknown. The scanty bibliographic and biographic information contained in the manuscript’s colophon itself sheds very little light on the circumstances of its production and its maker. The number of people who were involved in the production of the Nuremberg Miscellany, and the different hands that have actually created it, remain a mystery as well. Some indications, however, make it possible to speculate on this enigma. After compiling the texts selected for the Nuremberg Miscellany, the scribe inserted his colophon at the bottom of fol. 44v (see Figure 160).13

Figure 160: Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]

As befitting a secondary text, this personal addition is rendered in semi-cursive script. It contains a meager amount of information, including only the name of the scribe (and illustrator?) and the date of the completion of his manuscript. The colophon reads as follows: ‫ לברך בו למלך‬.‫ להתחיל ולסיים‬.‫ תהלה לבורא עולם שיסיעני (!) עד הלום‬.‫תם ונשלם‬ ‫ ונגמר זאת במלאכה (!) ביום ב' כ"ו כסלו שנת ש"ן לפ"ק אני‬.‫ לשמו לברכה‬.‫אל חי וקים‬ ‫אליעזר בן הקדוש ר' מרדכי זצ"ל הי"ד‬

13 The scribe-compiler of the Nuremberg Miscellany used the normative type of colophon that was employed in the Middle Ages, in which the information is provided in a simple textual manner. Other means of rendering the scribe’s name are more oblique or sophisticated, as shown by Malachi Beit-Arié, “How Scribes Disclosed Their Names in Hebrew Manuscripts,” Studia Rosenthaliana 38–39 (2005–2006): 144–157.

Conclusion 

 427

After thanking God for his providence and good fortune and enabling him to conclude his scribal task, the scribe first states the Hebrew date on which he concluded his work—Monday the 26th day of the month of Kislev, in the year 350 of the “minute count” (Anno Mundi),14 equivalent to December 3, 1589.15 The ensuing phrase in the colophon reveals the scribe’s personal data, stating his name and his patronym, Eli'ezer, son of the hallowed R. Mordechai, ‫זצ"ל הי"ד‬. The addition of “hallowed” implies that the father had been martyred, as does the acronym ‫הי"ד‬, standing for “may the Lord avenge his blood.” The other acronym, ‫זצ"ל‬, is a common honorific standing for “may the memory of [this] righteous man be blessed.” In the absence of any further information, the circumstances of the martyrdom, like the rest of the author’s biography, remains elusive. In addition to the colophon, however, a few hints are interspersed throughout the manuscript, allowing us to speculate about its creator(s) and recipient. Some clues to that effect hide in the incipits of the various texts in the Miscellany. In the Nuremberg Miscellany, the scribe followed earlier traditions of Hebrew manuscript production and usually rendered large fonts or extravagant elaboration to entire initial words. In addition, he marked some initial letters with small decorations or different sized fonts to indicate that they were part of an acrostic. The only exception to this rule is the singular sizeable initial letter ‫ב‬, which begins the word ‫( ָּברּוְך‬barukh, lit. “blessed”) on fol. 19v. It is adorned with powdered gold—a tincture that the artist used only one other time in the manuscript, on fol. 4v, in the initial word ‫( נְ ָב ֵרְך‬lit. “let us bless”). Both words stem from the same Hebrew root .‫ כ‬.‫ ר‬.‫( ב‬b.r.kh.) (see Figures 15 and 63). From a liturgical standpoint, these two incipits in gold are equally important as the rest of the text in the manuscript. They are not exceptionally significant beginnings or endings of sections. Consequently, the reason for singling them out must be sought elsewhere. The Hebrew word “barukh” is a homonym for a common personal name with identical spelling and pronunciation. It may be that the gold-rendered initial word and letter are related to the name of the giver or receiver of the Nuremberg Miscellany, Barukh, although the possibility that this was the name of the artist may not be ruled out either. Support for this hypothesis comes from the adornment of another initial word in the Nuremberg Miscellany. On fol. 17v, the initial word ‫( ָּברּוְך‬barukh) is rendered in multicoloured, elaborate folded-ribbon letters, unparalleled in any 14 The “minute count” in Hebrew calendaric rendition omits the first digit that marks the millenia and provides only the century, decade and single enumeration of the date. 15 On the Jewish calendar, see Samuel Poznanski, “Calendar (Jewish),” Encyclopædia of Religion and Ethics (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1910), vol. 3, 117–124, and more recently, Stern, Calendar and Community.

428 

 Conclusion

other instance in the manuscript (see Figures 95–96). It opens the tenth–eleventh century piyyuṭ ‫( ָּברּוְך ה´ יֹום יֹום‬Barukh Adonai Yom Yom), composed by Simeon b. Isaac of Mainz.16 Every stanza of the hymn, inscribed on fols. 17v through 19r, is decorated with sprigs of various types, marking the acrostic of the poet’s name. Their elaboration surpasses similar demarcations of any other acrosticated piyyuṭ in the manuscript. This special embellishment, too, serves to highlight the initial word barukh, presumably alluding, once again, to the name Barukh of the patron or the designated owner of the manuscript, or to the artist. Another possible cipher for a different name related to the history or attribution of the manuscript comes with various kinds of articulation in diverse contexts throughout the manuscript. The verbal and visual theme of fol. 1r centres on the four archetypal animals attributed to the missive by Judah b. Teima in M. Avot 5:20.17 The expression “‫”רץ ַכ ְצ ִבי‬ ָ (fleet as a hart) appears twice: as an inscription in the open book held by the man and the yourh, and in the visual rendering of a hart enclosed in the wreath. A separate square-script inscription above the book repeats it once more in what seems like an afterthought, probably by another, perhaps slightly later hand. The special attention to the hart may not be coincidental. It highlights the hart, ẓvi in Hebrew, and, at the same time, points to the common Hebrew masculine first name, Ẓvi. We could hypothesise that the name belonged to the lad, who is shown running, enacting the Hebrew text that colloquially reads “running like a hart” (see Figure 21). In other words: Like the name Barukh, also Ẓvi enjoys special attention in several instances in the Nuremberg Miscellany. While insufficient for a conclusive identification, these are plausible assumptions. However, the immediacy of the text-image relationship in the case of the hart—ẓvi—underscored by the additional square-script inscription, advocate that the manuscript may have been a gift to a person named Ẓvi. In addition to the compiler’s familiarity with the material culture of his Christian surrounding society, his vast knowledge of Jewish law and custom is manifest throughout the manuscript. The selection of the texts that were incorporated into the Miscellany is the work of a sophisticated erudite person with an impressive intimate acquaintance with Jewish traditions of different ages and genres. Whereas Jewish texts were generally available to the members of the community at the local beit midrash, the breadth and depth of the knowledge displayed in the manuscript suggest that the compiler and the artist consulted—and possibly owned—a significant private “Jewish bookshelf”.

16 On the piyyuṭ, see above, 246. 17 See the discussion above, 69 et seq., 86.

Conclusion 

 429

The Miscellany echoes not only traditional sources but also works by contemporary authors or recently published books. The literary sources available to the maker(s) of the manuscript were remarkable for those days. Some of the writings he used were contemporary, or were published for the first time only several years before the manuscript was penned, while others must have been available to him in manuscript form. It seems that the person in question was an affluent avid bibliophile, who was able and willing to invest profusely in the procurement of such luxurious items. For example, the compiler quotes Midrash Tehillim, a homiletic exposition on the book of Psalms, published in Venice by Daniel Bomberg in 1546. Another example is 'Ir Gibborim by Solomon Ephraim of Luntshitz, whose editio princeps was printed by Anthonius Froben of Basel in 1580. Both oeuvres were out on the market only a relatively short while before the Nuremberg Miscellany was written and illustrated. All these considerations point to an extremely learned man and a true lover of the Hebrew (and Yiddish) book, undoubtedly with the financial means to own a significant library.18 A person of such culture and learnedness may have been skilled not only in reading Hebrew, but also in the scribal art with its many styles of script. This included familiarity with the monumental or intricate initial letters prevalent in the art of manuscripts and later, in the embellishments of printed Hebrew books.19 Whereas the colophon provides some—albeit limited—information about the identity of the scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany, the artist remains com18 Both this erudition and financial ability highlight – by contrast – Tali Berner’s observation, regarding the placement of a sacred text in the infant’s crib at the Hollekreisch, namely that “. . . most men had only very elementary education, and few men had both the financial security and intellectual ability to allow them to dedicate their lives to study.” See her article “Children and Rituals in Early Modern Ashkenaz,” The Journal of the History of Childhood and Youth 7, no. 1 (Winter 2014): 81. 19 This, however, does not necessarily reflect his “library.” Beside the sacred Jewish scriptures, Jewish literary lore, namely midrash, halakha and minhag were taught as part and parcel of the curriculum in the yeshivot, handed down orally in the traditional schooling system in medieval and Early Modern Europe, or transmitted from father to son. Due to the significant cost of production of parchment and the labour-intensive investment in writing (and illustrating) a manuscript, most people could only have had access to Jewish books in libraries kept in communal institutions for public use. It was only the well-to-do who could afford to acquire a private library on a smaller or larger scale. Very little is known of private libraries in Germany in the Early Modern Period in general and among Jews in particular. It is instructive, however, to consult the chapter on Jewish libraries of Mantuan Jews in the same period, although the legal status and the cultural climate in which the Jews lived in the respective countries differed greatly. See Shifra Baruchson, Books and Readers. The Reading Interests of Italian Jews at the Close of the Renaissance (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993) (Hebrew).

430 

 Conclusion

pletely anonymous and his sources of visual inspiration are obscure. His artistic skills indicate that he might have received basic instruction and acquired some experience, but he clearly lacks artistic excellence. Yet, the artist’s performance is not entirely devoid of talent or skill. His obvious exposure to earlier and current art must have influenced his pictorial and decorative iconographic vocabulary. Jewish motifs that have become part of Jewish visual expression in the course of Antiquity and the Middle Ages feature in his work. These appear in the Miscellany along with pictorial renderings that have been taken over into Jewish imagery along centuries of artistic activity from a myriad of majority societies and local influences in a process of appropriation and adaptation to Jewish belief and lore.20 Following medieval tradition, the artist may have merely followed iconographic conventions and instructions given to him by the patron, the compiler, or the scribe, yet this could hardly have been the case here. Using his acquired visual vocabulary from within and from without the Jewish world and depicting those illustrations and embellishments deemed fitting was the artist’s course of interaction in the illumination of the Miscellany. More importantly, though, the manuscript reflects an impressive in-depth knowledge of Jewish writings and booklore, visually reflected throughout its leaves. Navigating among the layers of sources and exegeses embedded in the artwork of the manuscript, one encounters in them a reflection a savant’s world of Jewish scholarship, independent and creative in his artwork. The art of illustration, ornamentation, and other forms of artistic expression in the manuscript underlines the importance of assessing the role of the artist in conceiving and applying its decorative scheme. In stark contrast to his limited performance as an artist, the illustrations are a masterpiece of intellectual interplay between text and image. There is reason to believe that the artist was not only the designer and executor but also the one who planned the illustrations with their prismic multi-layered overtones. Often inspired by wit, humour, associative thinking, and puns, he incorporated “hinted” text illustrations, which at first glance may seem negligible. Only after repeated examination can the ingenuity of a tiny marginal image or an almost unnoticeable element interwoven into an initial letter be revealed in all their complexity. A patron could hardly have instructed such a skilfully detailed iconographic plan for lack of training in visual rendering of a text or a concept. Patrons usually were not involved in the iconographic scheme of an artwork to such minute detail as to influence the broad

20 As discussed by Joseph Reider, “Non-Jewish Motives in the Ornament of Early Hebrew Books,” in Studies in Jewish Bibliography and Related Subjects in Memory of Abraham Solomon Freidus, ed. Louis Ginzburg et al. (New York: The Alexander Kohut Memorial Foundation, 1929), 150–159.

Conclusion 

 431

visual vocabulary of the artist. This could only be the result of the artist’s own ability to masterly transpose an abstract idea into imagery in a most intricate way. The analysis of the interaction between the text and the images in the Nuremberg Miscellany is useful for reconstructing the production process of the manuscript. Typically, the mise-en-page of illuminated manuscripts was the domain of the scribe, who was responsible for the balance between the verbal content and the embellishment of the book. He would allot the space for the primary and secondary texts, and the space left for the initial words or letters to bring out the beginning of a chapter or a new text and beautify the volume. Finally, he would designate the areas on the parchment or paper background to contain illustrations or decorations in a carefully thought-out plan, taking into consideration the physical totality of the book.21 A good example for this in the Miscedllany is the framed panel at the top right of fol. 4v, which looks like an unplanned addition to the careful layout of the page, thereby distorting the compositional balance by the insertion of a text before the beginning of the Grace after Meals. The last line of the secondary text exceeds the parameters of the rectangular space of the main text, extending into the line between the initial word and the actual main text. Respectful of the scribal work, the artist “broke” the tablet-shaped frame surrounding the text on the left in order not to disrupt the flow of the reading (see Figure 18). In another example, namely the inscribed banners above the heads of the messengers visiting Abraham on fol. 3r, the division of roles between text and image, scribe and artist merits careful examination. The same applies to the inscription on the bowl containing the three tongues in mustard, set on the table before the guests in the same scene (see Figure 46). While it is generally assumed that the scribe was the first person actually working on any manuscript, followed by the artist’s pen and brushwork, the Nuremberg Miscellany seems to present a different sequence of execution. It could be argued that the captions were added after the illustrations, or, alternatively, that the artist added the scrolls around the text, designing their flow and coloured contours to match the space already occupied by the text. Such an interaction, though, of to-and-fro between the makers of the manuscript would be most impractical and hardly a logical move in the production of the book. Conversely, the captions are unlikely to have preceded the illustrations, which would have imposed unnecessary obstacles to the creation of a harmonious page setting.

21 In some medieval manuscripts there are traces of script underneath the illustration or in their immediate proximity, which suggest that the scribe-copyist not only planned where to place an illustration but also indicated the appropriate thematic that should accompany the text.

432 

 Conclusion

Close collaboration between the scribe and the artist is also evident on fol. 43v, to the right of the Hollekreisch scene. The image includes an open book, set on a table, with inscriptions on both pages. Given the tiny dimensions of the depicted volume, it would have been virtually near-to impossible for the scribe to first enter the minute inscription and then instruct the artist to build his composition around it (see Figure 148). On a different level, leafing through the Nuremberg Miscellany one notices that the relationship between text and imagery is intriguing, not only in the iconographic sense, but also in the layout of the page. Thus, for example, the scribe chose to leave one line uninscribed at the bottom of fol. 9v and continue the text on the following page, perhaps as a last minute decision, leaving just enough space for the image of the couple in the Kiddush montage as a bas-depage illustration. The afterthought nature of this choice is suggested by the unusual composition in which husband and wife are depicted far apart from each other at the two ends of the page, as well as in the omission of a table that would naturally be set between them. As a more detailed composition could hardly fit in the area below the text, the artist had to deal with the space allotted for the illustration with some iconographic sacrifices (see Figure 86). In a similar case on fol. 29r, the scribe shortened the text-space to allow for the inclusion of an illustration of the havdalah at the foot of the page (see Figure 98). Likewise, there are no obvious reasons for truncating the last line on fol. 10r other than the plan to insert a marginal illustration of Kiddush Levanah (see Figure 3). As with the Hollekreisch scene, the lower part of the composite illustration on the opening of fols. 33v-34r contains apparently two separate illustrations, one on each page. The full meaning of the images, namely the entourages of the bride and of the bridegroom, becomes clear only when the two are merged together iconographically (see Figure 111). In both scenes—the Hollekreisch and the bridal couple and their respective carriages—the artist could only plan this composition, spanning two pages of the opening, if the scribe had left the necessary space at the foot of both pages by just making partial use of the text-space (see Figure 146), or else, the manuscript was executed by one person who took full responsibility for its content, layout, and imagery. Given the complex synergy between the textual and the visual elements in the Nuremberg Miscellany, what seems logical to conclude is that, in high probability, the scribe and the artist were one and the same. If this is true, exercising freedom of planning and executing the layout of the manuscript and its decorative

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scheme according to his will would only be a natural course.22 This assumption is supported by the observation that the images and embellishments are invariably coloured ink drawings,23 with pronounced contours executed by a quill. Careful examination of the images reveals that, in some instances, the outlines of the illustrations display a double line created by the quill’s nib, similar to what is visible also in the script of the primary and secondary texts.24 Furthermore, the tint of the ink used for the decorative elements in the manuscript is conspicuously similar to the colour of the writing ink. If this hypothesis is correct, the Nuremberg Miscellany is an autograph or self-fashioned composition conceived, assembled, penned, and decorated by the same individual.25 While other autograph manuscripts do exist, the Miscellany is nonetheless unique in its exquisite content and intricate, multi-layered, and often cryptic iconography. The artist clearly assumed that the person for whom it was intended would be equally erudite, knowledgeable, intelligent, and clever like himself to understand the different levels of textual and visual, explicit and implicit messages. Preparing his gift, he did not spare any mental effort, cost, or care in rendering it an extraordinary token of love to its recipient. Taking into consideration the expenditure involved in the production of the Nuremberg Miscellany and the luxury objects depicted in it, it seems obvious that the manuscript was produced by, or on behalf of, a person whose riches matched his learnedness. While his identity is not divulged, inscriptions in the added bifolio at the end of the manuscript associate it with the famous Ulma-Günzburg family, at least from a time close to its completion (see Figures 13 and 14).

22 Such a symbiosis of roles is found in non-Hebrew manuscripts as well in a myriad of forms. One such example occurs in the elaborate initial words of medieval English manuscripts, as described by Jonathan James Graham Alexander, “Scribes as Artists: the Arabesque Initial in Twelfth-Century English Manuscripts,” in Medieval Scribes, Manuscripts, and Libraries: Essays Presented to N. R. Ker, ed. M. B. Parkes and A. G. Watson (London: Scholars’ Press , 1978), 87–116. 23 Save the floral motif on fol. 43r that is not outlined and may have been painted by a different hand, and the wolf and bear on fol. 35v that are only ink drawn and not painted. 24 See, for example, the bottom lines of fol. 4r and the outer margin at the top and at the bottom right of the scroll-pillar decoration separating the main text from the secondary text. 25 See Emile G. L. Schrijver, “Of Books and People. The Braginsky Collection and Book History,” in Cohen, Mintz, and Schrijver, Journey through Jewish Worlds, 31. The author claims that “Most Hebrew manuscripts from the Middle Ages were copied by individuals for their own private use,” without substantiating this statement. Interestingly, though, Schrijver links the existence of autograph manuscripts with what he calls “the nature of textual transmission, as manuscripts were much more ‘open’ in terms of their content than books are today.” In this sense, as in other aspects discussed above, the Nuremberg Miscellany is following medieval tradition.

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Various indications in the iconographic details in the manuscript discussed earlier point to an allegiance to the Duchy of Swabia, or, more specifically, in the Margraviate of Burgau—the homeland of the Ulma-Günzburg family.26 With alleged roots in the Veneto, the origin of the family can be traced back to the expulsion of the Jews from different cities in Swabia,27 including Ulm and Augsburg, in the fifteenth century.28 Subsequently, the Günzburg family assumed a surname reminiscent of their original domicile, initially calling themselves Ulma-Günzburg.29 The pater familias of the Ulma-Günzburg family, according to Stefan Rohrbacher, was Eli'ezer Günzburg (1477–1544), an esteemed physician who was active around the mid-sixteenth century in the courts of Innsbruck and Vienna.30 His son, Simeon (1506–1586), was famous all over Ashkenaz. An influential philanthropist, Simeon helped reestablish the status of the Jewish communities and the rabbinate in Swabia. He also acquired land for the Jewish cemetery in Burgau. His sons made a generous contribution towards the founding of a synagogue there.31

26 See 81 ff. above. 27 The groundbreaking study on the Jews of Swabia and the Ulma-Günzburg family is Leopold Löwenstein, “Günzburg und die schwäbischen Gemeinden,” in idem, Blätter für Jüdische Geschichte und Litteratur (Beilage zur Zeitschrift Der Israelit) 1 (1899–1900), 9–10, 25–27, 41–43, 57–59; 2 (1901), 25–27, 33–35, 41–44, 49–51, 57–59; 3 (1902), 4–6, 21–24, 56–58. The statement made in the introduction, linking Eli'ezer Abraham, father of Simeon b. Eli'ezer and of Jacob of the Günzburg family to Porto in the Vento, has not been academically confirmed to date. 28 The expulsion from various commercial cities in Germany was not limited to Württemberg alone. For example, in 1424–1425 they were banned from Cologne, in 1438–1439 from Strassburg, and in 1458 from Erfurt (for the second time). In Württemberg itself, the Jews were forced out of Augsburg in 1438 and from Ulm about half a century later, in 1499. See Anna Foa, The Jews of Europe After the Black Death, trans. from Italian by Andrea Grover (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 155–161; and Werner Sombart, The Jews and Modern Capitalism, trans. M. Epstein (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1951), 14. 29 For a brief survey of the early history of the family, see Duygu Özkan, “Henle Ephraim Ullmann: Ein Hofjude zwischen Pfersee und Augsburg,” Diplomarbeit angestrebter akademischer Grad Magistra der Philosophie, Universität Wien, 2009, especially 7–9. On the wanderings of the expelled Jews from Augsburg and Ulm throughout Central Europe, see Dean Phillip Bell, Sacred Communities: Jewish and Christian Identities in Fifteenth-Century Germany (Studies in Central European Histories), ed. Thomas A. Brady, Jr. and Roger Chickering (Boston: Brill, 2001), 1138–1142. 30 Rohrbacher, “Medinat Schwaben,” 85 f. See also Sabine Ullmann, Nachbarschaft und Konkurrenz. Juden und Christen in Dörfern der Markgrafschaft Burgau 1650 bis 1750 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999), 41. 31 Rotraud Ries, “Alte Herausforderungen unter neuen Bedingungen? Zur politischen Rolle der Elite in der Judenschaft des 16. und beginnenden 17. Jahrhunderts,” in Hofjuden und Landjuden; jüdisches Leben in der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Sabine Hödl, Peter Rauscher, and Barbara Staudinger (Berlin: Philo, 2004), 91–141; as well as an extended study on Simeon Günzburg by Rohrbacher, “Ungleiche Partnerschaft.”

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Simeon’s five sons resided in Pfersee and in 1601, shortly after the production of the Nuremberg Miscellany, procured a privilegium from Emperor Rudolf II, allowing them to remain there for an additional ten years.32 The Pfersee Memorbuch33 of ca. 1631 mentions Rabbi Simeon b. Eli'ezer Ulma-Günzburg and his offspring, all residents of Pfersee.34 Members of the Ulma-Günzburg family were renowned Jewish scholars, many of them rabbis. One of them, R. Jacob b. Eli'ezer Ulma, composed a hymn for weddings entitled Eyn Kalo lid (lit. “A Song for the Bride,” in Yiddish) which appeared in Mitsvous ha-noshim (lit. “Commandments for Women”), published by Giovanni di Gara in Venice, 1588.35 Others engaged in the art of printing either as printers or as promoters and supporters of printers and their presses. Noteworthy among them is, first and foremost, Simeon haLevi Günzburg, probably a namesake of the former, who maintained contacts with Simeon zum Gembs and was somehow involved in the printing of the almost complete Babylonian Talmud in Basel by Ambrosius Froben in 1578–1580.36 Seligman b. Moses Simeon Ulma, known as Seligmann zur Sonne, worked as a corrector in Hanau in the early seventeenth century.37 Elia b. Seligman b. Moses Simeon Ulma-Günzburg followed in the footsteps of his father in Hanau as a typesetter and corrector.38 Along with 32 Rohrbacher, “Medinat Schwaben,” 84f. 33 Most Memorbuch notations follow the format of the yizkor prayer, as we find in the inscription commemorating Moses Abraham b. Simeon Günzburg on fol. 44r of the Nuremberg Miscellany. 34 The Memorbuch of Pfersee was published by Perles, “Memorbuch der Gemeinde Pfersee,” 508–515. The Ulma-Günzburg family and their deeds are referred to on 509–511. See also Theodor Harburger, Die Inventarisation Jüdischer Kunst und Kulturdenkmäler in Bayern, 3 Bde., The Central Archives, Jerusalem and the Jewish Museum of Franconia, Fürth, 1998, Bd. 3, 659–660. See further Bell, Jewish Identity, 78–80. 35 Published again at the end of Simeon hLevi Günzburg’s Minhogim Bukh of 1593. See Jean Baumgarten, Introduction to Old Yiddish Literature, ed. and trans. Jerold C. Frakes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 268 and n. 23. Two excerpts of the hymn, in English translation, appear on 269. Another member of the family, who was engaged in the art of printing, was Eliyahu b. Judah Ulma, who co-published Sefer Maharil together with Abraham b. Yequti’el haKohen in Hanau in 1628. 36 Amnon Raz-Krakotzkin, The Censor, the Editor, and the Text: The Catholic Church and the Shaping of the Jewish Canon in the Sixteenth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007), 60–70 and n. 53 on 228. 37 Eckhard Meise, Konversion und Assimilation: Taufen von Menschen Fremder Konfessionen in Hanau bis ins 19. Jahrhundert (Hanauer Geschichtsblättern 37) (Hanau: Hanauer Geschichtsverein, 1999), 32–34. 38 Some other printers from the same family are R. Jacob Ulma, active in Hanau, and Eliyahu b. Yehuda Ulma (Drucker), who moved from Hanau to Basel. See Herbert C. Zafren, “Variety in the Typography of Yiddish: 1535–1635,” Hebrew Union College Annual 53 (1983): 137–63; and idem, “A Probe into Hebrew Printing in Hanau in the Seventeenth Century or How Quantifiable is Hebrew

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their richess, the involvement of family members with the book industry may offer a clue for their exposure to – perhaps also ownership of – an exquisite stateof-the art library of Jewish texts. Due to their high-ranking position as Court Jews in Swabia, particularly in the vicinity of Augsburg, the family had its own coat of arms. It shows a diagonal band fitted with three six-pointed stars on it. Interestingly, it is strongly reminiscent of the coat of arms of the Güssen family of Leipheim in Bavaria, who received a charter from Emperor Ludwig the Bavarian in 1326 to collect the taxes from the Jews in the village. In 1503, the Jews were expelled from Leipheim. As with many Jews who were banished from Ulm a few years earlier, many Jews from Leipheim moved a short distance to the east, to Günzburg, where they already had commercial and familial ties. It is possible that the escutcheon of their former home remained in the recollection of members of the Ulma-Günzburg family, who adopted the motif as their own coat of arms. Relics of tombstones bearing that insignia still lie in the Jewish cemetery of Kriegshaber – then still an independent township west of Augsburg that was later integreated to become part of the city.39 The fact that all of them post-date the Nuremberg Miscellany and that no other coats of arms of any form are known to have been used by the family suggests that the diagonal threestar band was devised either in the last years of the sixteenth century or later.40 Despite the fact that the Nuremberg Miscellany was penned and illustrated well into the age of printing, manuscripts, and particularly illuminated ones written on parchment, were a costly venture. In light of the hints associating the book with Swabia in general and with the Duchy of Burgau in particular,41 one can safely surmise that, indeed, the patron and probably also the recipient of the manuscript belonged to the Ulma-Günzburg dynasty, an extremely affluent family of intellectuals,42 among them also avid bibliophiles. One of the family’s privately

Typography,” in Studies in Judaica, Karaitica and Islamica Presented to Leon Nemoy on his Eightieth Birthday, ed. Sheldon R. Brunswick (Ramat Gan, 1982), 274–85. My thanks go to Stephen Burnett for the information about the printers of the Ulma-Günzburg family. 39 The foundation of the cemetery of Kriegshaber, which served neighbouring communities as well, dates to 1636. 40 Sabine Ullmann, “Zwischen Fürstenhöfen und Gemeinde: Die jüdische Hoffaktorenfamilie Ulman in Pfersee während des 18. Jahrhunderts,” Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereins für Schwaben 90 (1997): 165. For a historical background of the phenomenon, see Yosef Kaplan, “Court Jews before the Hofjuden,” in Mann, Cohen, and Backhaus, From Court Jews to the Rothschilds, 11–25. 41 See Löwenswtein, “Günzburg,” 9–10. 42 Members of the Ulma-Günzburg family were among the most prominent families in the entire German-speaking realm. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries they pursued strategic marriages that connected them to important rabbinical families as well as to the wealthy Court Jews

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owned monumental treasures was the multi-volume parchment manuscript of the Babylonian Talmud, kept in their possession in the town of Pfersee already in 1588. It bears the ownership inscription of Shlomo Ulma.43 Several other manuscripts in public libraries are known to have been in the proprietorship of individuals from the Ulma-Günzburg family and bear their names in them. Often there is evidence of a manuscript being kept in the holdings of the family for a number of generations. Bearing in mind the means necessary for acquisition of a single manuscript, multiplied and augmented to build up a private library including illuminated books on parchment, and adding to them printed books in the family ownership, the extravagant wealth of the family comes to light. Passing the book down from one generation to another is evident in the Nuremberg Miscellany, which preserved a commemorative inscription naming Moses Abraham b. Simeon Günzburg (b. 1571), as well as an ownership statement from the late eighteenth century by Ephraim b. Ṭevele Ulman (a derivative of the surname Ulma) of Pfersee by Augsburg.44 Regardless of the identity of the scribe of the Nuremberg Miscellany and the possibility that he also illustrated the manuscript, the mere gift as such falls into line with the Ulma-Günzburg’s financial ability, and—perhaps even more so— with their erudition and love for the book. The scribe compiled a unique selection of texts that could only be used for one specific event; the content of the book barely made it practical for use on other occasions. It nonetheless remained in the family’s possession for generations to come, at least down to the lifetime of Ephraim Ulma. Accentuating Shabbat and the wedding liturgy along with moralistic lessons emphasising filial respect interspersed in the text, the book is a message from father to son, who was honoured with a personalised gift probably on the occasion of his marriage.

throughout Europe. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries members of the Ulmann family of Pfersee were appointed Court Jews to both the Prince-Bishops of Augsburg and the Imperial Court in Vienna. 43 On fol. 331v. The manuscript is currently in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. hebr. 2. The manuscript contains ownership inscriptions of other members of the family as well. I owe this information and further details about the manuscripts that exceed the scope of this study to Ilona Steimann, who generously shared it with me. 44 Both on fol. 45r, in an added bifolio at the end of the manuscript. Ephraim Ulmann (here documented as Ulma) was first signatory in a legal document from 1782 regarding the nomination of the Bonim b. Gimple in various leaderships in the community of Pfersee, namely Verpflichtung der Gemeindevorsteher, Bonim ben Gimpel aus Pfersee als Vorbeter und Schächter anzustellen, kept in Jerusalem, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, P16–17–22. See file:///C:/Users/owner/Downloads/PNX_MANUSCRIPTS004431112-1_IE64264110.pdf (accessed April 19, 2020). Notably, four of the five other officials are members of the Ulma family.

List of Figures The author and the publisher wish to thank the libraries, museums, and private collectors for permitting the reproduction of works of art, paintings, prints, and drawings in their collections and providing high-resolution images for this book. The photographs have been supplied by the owners or custodians of the works of art (except for those that are in the public domain). Their courtesy is gratefully acknowledged. Special recognition goes to the Germanisches National Museum in Nureberg for permitting the author not only to reproduce the entire Nuremberg Miscellany as part of this book, but also for their generous approval of any photographic request of other treasures from the Museum’s holdings. This book contains many images, obtained from various sources:  official institutions, private collections and the public domain. The author of the book and the Goldstein-Goren Diaspora Research Center at Tel Aviv University have attempted to conduct all reasonable efforts to trace the copyright holder of all materials reproduced in this publication in order to obtain their approval, follow their conditions of reproduction, and credit the images appropriately. In the event that any copyright material has not been properly acknowledged, or if your content is being used incorrectly, we wish to apologize and ask you to contact us prior to making any copyright claim. Any improper use was unintentional and we will endeavor to rectify the situation to the satisfaction of all parties.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-014

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Ḥuppah stone (Traustein), Bingen (Germany), 1700 [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 199/022; acc. no. B66.09.1409, Gift of the Bingen Municipality through the Jewish community of Cologne, Germany]. Reproduced with the permission of The Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Elie Posner)   XI Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 44v-45r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   11 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   12 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 15v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   14 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   15 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   17 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 25v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   17 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 39v–40r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   19 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 20r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   20 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   20 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   21 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)].

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Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   37 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 45r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   49 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 45r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   50 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 19v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   58 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   59 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 8v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   60 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   61 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 13v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   62 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   70 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   71 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r: Schematic presentation of the composition [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   73 Cathedral of Saint-Maurice d’Angers (France), 11–12c, Royal portal (west), ca. 1200 (detail). Public Domain Mark 1.0, No Copyright (Photo: TTaylor)   75 Erna Michael Haggadah, Upper Rhine, ca. 1400, fol. 52v [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. no. 181/018; M549-3-66]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Ardon Bar-Hama   77

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Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 1r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   78 Hofämterspiel, Germany, ca. 1455 “Hofmeister” (Major domo) [Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv. No. KK 5112]. Public Domain Mark 1.0, No Copyright (Photo: Wuseling)   79 Albrecht Dürer, Great Portrait of Emperor Sigismund, Nuremberg, ca. 1511–1513 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Gm168]. Public Domain Mark 1.0, No Copyright (Photo: JarektUploadBot)   82 Adam Kraft, Granary, Nuremberg, 1502, Eastern gable. Public Doamin Mark 1.0, No Copyright (Photo: Andreas Praefke)   83 “Nürnberger Briefbote”, Nuremberg, 1551 [Nürnberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB2304]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   84 Oria-Salento (Italy), Castello Svevo, 1225–1233: Coat of arms of the Hohenstaufen (detail) Licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution – Share Alike 2.5 license (Photo: MacMoreno)   85 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 1v-2r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   90 Amsterdam Maḥzor, Cologne, Germany, ca. 1250 Collection Jewish Historical Museum, Amsteredam, and Jüdisches Museum Köln, Archäologische Zone fol. 180v   91 Gospel Book of St. Médard de Soissons, Aachen, ca. 800, fol. 180v [Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. lat. 8850] (Public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation  94 License. (Photo: File Upload Bott))  Modena, Cathedral, 1099–1184: West facade portal. Licensed under the Creative Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license, and under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 (Photo: Saliko)   95 Königslutter, former Benedictine abbey church of St. Peter and Paul, 1135–late 12c: Lion portal (north). Licensed under the Creative Commons licenses Attribution - Redistribution under the same conditions 3.0 unported, 2.5 generic, 2.0 generic and 1.0 generic and under the terms of the GNU Free Documentaion License, Version 1.2 (Photo: Times)   96 Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 1v [Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS. HEB. 40 781/I]. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem   102 Laud Maḥzor, Southern Germany, ca. 1290, fol. 127v [Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Laud Or. 321]. Reproduced with the permission of The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford   103

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Figure 48a-b

Figure 49

Darmstadt Hammelburg Maḥzor, Southern Germany, 1348, fol. 73v [Darmstadt, Hessische Landes-und Hochschulbibliothek, Cod. Or. 13]. Reproduced with the permission of the Hessische Landes-und  104 Hochschulbibliothek, Darmstadt  Maḥzor according to the German rite, Venice Zorzo (Giorgio) di Cavalli, 1567, vol. 2, fol. 1r [Zurich, Braginsky Collection, BB 68] (Photo: Ardon Bar-Hama, Ra’anana, Israel. Reproduced with the permission of the Braginsky Collection, Zurich   105 Wolff Christof Ritter, Jug in the shape of a war elephant, Nuremberg, c. 1615 [Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Inv. No. R B K 1985-45] No Copyright, CCO 1.0 Universal (CCO 1/0) Public omain Dedication (Photo: The Rijksmuseum national museum of the Netherlands   108 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 2v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   115 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 2v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   117 Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 39v [Jerusalem, The National Library of Israel, MS Heb. 4°781]. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem   118 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 2v-3r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   122 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches  124 Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   126 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   127 North French Miscellany, Northern France, 1277–1324, fol. 118r; fol. 118v [London, The British Library, MS. Add. 11693] Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Board, London (Photo ©The British Library Board, London)   129 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   130

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Albrecht Dürer, “Annunciation,” from “The Small Passion,” 1510 [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Harry Walters, 1917 (17.37.277) Public domain, part of the Met’s Open Access program (Photo: The Metropolitan Museum of Art)   133 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   137 Friedrich Hirschvogel, traveling cutlery, Nuremberg, ca. 1620 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HG10714]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   143 Yahuda Haggadah, Southern Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/50; B55.01.0109]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Ardon Bar-Hama) Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama   147 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3r (rotated left) (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   158 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 44v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postinkheb-90]. Reproduced with the permission from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   163 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 3v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   164 Cervera Bible, Cervera and Tudela, Spain, 1299–1300, fol. 449r [Lisboa, Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Ms. Hebr. 72]   166 First Kennicott Bible, La Coruña, Galicia, Spain, 1476, fol. 447r [Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Kennicott 1]. Reproduced with  167 the permission of Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford  Yahuda Haggadah, Southern Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r (detail) [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Ms. 180/50; B55.01.0109]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Ardon Bar-Hama) Photo by Ardon Bar-Hama   168 Prague Haggadah, Prague Gershom and Gronem Katz, 1526, fol. 29r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-97b]. Reproduced with the permission of The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   169 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   172 The Ashkenazi Haggadah, Germany, mid-15c, fol. 22r [London, The British Library, Add. MS. 14762]. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Boarrd, London (Photo © The British Library Board, London)   176

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Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   179 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 4v Secondary text (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   181 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   186 Leather spectacles, Southern Germany (?), late 15–early 16c [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, T157]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   187 Hartmann Schedel, Das Buch der Chroniken (Liber chronicarum), Nuremberg Anton Koberger, 1493, fol. 236v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, Inc. 20 266]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   188 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   191 Abraham Smesman, “Anfechtung und Trost eines Sterbenden,” Heidelberg, 1590 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB27024]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   194 Coburg Pentateuch, Central Germany, 1390–1396, fol. 72v [London, The British Library, Add. MS 19776]. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library, London (Photo ©The British Library Board, London)   195 Hourglass, Nuremberg, 1506 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, WI 1955]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches  196 Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 5v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   197 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 6v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   199 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 6r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   200

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Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 8r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   201 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   204 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 15v [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]. Reproduced with the permission of The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   209 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 10v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   211 Hamburg Miscellany, Mainz (?), Germany, 1434, fol. 81r [Hamburg, Staatsund Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Heb. 37]. Reproduced with the permission of the Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Hamburg   216 Prague Haggadah, Prague Gershom and Gronem Katz, 1526, fol. 24r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-97b]. Reproduced with the permission of The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   217 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   220 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 11v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   223 Moritz Daniel Oppenheim, “Die Trauung,” 1866 [New York, The Jewish Museum, Gift of the Oscar and Regina Gruss Charitable and Educational  228 Foundation, 1999–87]  Cofanetto, Italy, 15c [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/20; B51.04.0207, Gift of Astorre Mayer, Milan. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem), photo by Yoram Lehman   229 Miniature coffer, Germany, 16c [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, no. 131/53; B51.04.0207, formerly Stieglitz Collection]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem), photo by Avi Ganor   230 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 9v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   231 Willkomm-Buch von Kirchensittenbach, Middle Franconia, Germany, 1593 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HS 143516]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   234

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Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 18r (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]. Reproduced with the permission of The Royal Danish Library,  237 Copenhagen  Stefan Schirlinger, Schellenbecher, Nuremberg, ca. 1541–1549 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Hg 7713]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   238 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 9v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   239 Albrecht Dürer, Dresdner Skizzenbuch, ca. 1507, fol. 193r, panel 156 Covered goblets [Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staatsund Universitätsbibliothek, Mscr. Dresd. R 147 f]. Reproduced with the permission of the Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Dresden   240 Wenzel Jamnitzer, Double-goblet, Nuremberg, 1519 [Karlsruhe, Badishes Landesmuseum, Inv. No. 64/51]. Reproduced with the permission of the Badishes Landesmuseum, Karlsruhe   242 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 14v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   245 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 14v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   246 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum,  247 Nuremberg  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 17v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   248 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 26v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   248 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   252 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   253

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Spice box, Germany, early 16c. [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 124/564; B90.0090]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Elie Posner)   257 Inventory of reliquaries in the former Benedictine Abbey St. Ulrich and Afra in Augsburg, Augsburg (?), Germany, 16c [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB4500]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   258 Inventory of reliquaries in the former Benedictine Abbey St. Ulrich and Afra in Augsburg, Augsburg (?), Germany, 16c  (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Graphische Sammlung, HB4500]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   259 Havdala-Holz, Posen, 1529 [Jerusalem, The Wolfson Museum of Jewish Art– Hechal Shlomo, Inv. No. HS 1861-29-55]. Reproduced with the permission of the Wolfson Museum of Jewish Art–Hechal Shlomo, Jerusalem   261 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 3v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]. Reproduced with the permission of The Roayl Danish Library, Copenhagen   262 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 29v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   264 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   267 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches  268 Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   272 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 31v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   275 Stangenglas, Germany, mid-16c [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, acc. no. 27.185.203 (Munsey Fund, 1927)] No Copyright, CCO 1.0 Universal (CCO 1.0) Public Domain Dedication (Photo: The Metropolitan Museum of Art)   277 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 33v-34r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   281

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Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 33v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   286 Hans Leonhard Schäufelein, “One-of-Bells,” Nuremberg Wolfgang Rösch, 1535 [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, GNM Sp. 7074–7120]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   287 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   288 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   289 Yahuda Haggadah, Germany, ca. 1470, fol. 11v (detail) [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, Judaica Department 180/50; B55.01.0109]. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Ardon Bar-Hama)   291 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 75r [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]. Reproduced with the permission of The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   293 Hermann tom Ring, Family Portrait of John II of Rietberg, Germany, 1564 [Münster, LWL-Myseym für Kunst und Kultur (Westfälisches Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte, Inv. No. 993 LM, 1022 LM, 1941 LM]. Reproduced with the permission of the Westfälisches Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte, Münster   297 Jost Amman, “SPONSVS PATRICIVS Norimbergensis,” in Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm, Tam Virorvm, Qvam foeminarum Singulari arte depicti. Trachtenbuch Darin fast allerley vnd der fürnembsten Nationen, die heutigs tags bekandt sein, Kleidungen, beyde wie es bey Manns vnd Weibspersonen gebreuchlich, mit allem vleiß abgerissen sein, sehr lustig vnd kurtz-weilig zusehen / [mit Holzschnitten nach Zeichnungen Jost Ammans geschnitten von Hans Weigel], Nuremberg Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut VII [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 40 Lr 157/1]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   300 Jost Amman, “SPONSA PATRICIA NVRENBERGENSIS,” in Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm, Tam Virorvm, Qvam foeminarum Singulari arte depicti. Trachtenbuch Darin fast allerley vnd der fürnembsten Nationen, die heutigs tags bekandt sein, Kleidungen, beyde wie es bey Manns vnd Weibspersonen gebreuchlich, mit allem vleiß abgerissen sein, sehr lustig vnd kurtz-weilig zusehen / [mit Holzschnitten nach Zeichnungen Jost Ammans geschnitten von Hans Weigel], Nuremberg Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut IX [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 40 Lr 157/1]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   301

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Jost Amman, “SPONSAE PATRICIAE OR. natus,” in Hans Weigel, Habitvs Praecipvorvm Popvlorvm, Tam Virorvm, Qvam foeminarum Singulari arte depicti. Trachtenbuch Darin fast allerley vnd der fürnembsten Nationen, die heutigs tags bekandt sein, Kleidungen, beyde wie es bey Manns vnd Weibspersonen gebreuchlich, mit allem vleiß abgerissen sein, sehr lustig vnd kurtz-weilig zusehen / [mit Holzschnitten nach Zeichnungen Jost Ammans geschnitten von Hans Weigel], Nuremberg Hans Weigel, 1577, woodcut XII [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 40 Lr 157/1]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   302 Ketubbah, Krems, 1391/2 [Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. hebr. Ms. 218]. Reproduced with the permission of the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna   303 Leipzig Maḥzor, Southern Germany, 14c., fol. 64v [Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/I]. Reproduced with the permission of the Universitätsbibliothek, Leipzig   305 Pieter Brueghel the Elder, “Peasant Wedding,” ca. 1567 (detail) [Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Inv.No. GG_1027]. Public Domain Mark 1.0. No Copyright (Photo: Artwork)   306 Erfurt, Cathedral of St Mary, Jungfrauenportal (Virgin Portal), ca. 1330 (details). (Licensed, under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 Photo: Roland Meinecke)   307 Worms Maḥzor, Middle Rhine, 1272, vol. I, fol. 96v (detail) [Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, Ms. Heb. 4°781/1]. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem   308 Heinsheim Synagogue Marriage Stone, 1796. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International Licence (Photo: TRXXTRXX)   310 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches  312 Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg  Weißenburg (Bavaria), Germany, St. Andreas Parish Church, bride portal, 1425. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, 2.5 Generic, 2.0 Generic and 1.0 Generic license and under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 (Photo: Xenophon) under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation Licenxe, Version 1.2)   314 Kuttrolf (Filigrana Bottle), Venice, late 16c or early 17c [Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, 84.DK.661] No Copyright (US), under the Getty’s Open Content Program (Photo: The J. Paul Getty Museum)   319 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 34v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   320

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Figure 143 Figure 144

 List of Figures

Jewish wedding ring, Germany, late 13c-early 14c [Erfurt, TLDA 5067/98]. Reproduced with the permission of the Thüringisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege und Archäologie, Foto B. Stefan   323 Michael Praetorius, Syntagma musicum, Bd. 2 De Organographia, Wolfenbüttel, 1619–20, panel XVI Public Domain Mark 1.0. No Copyright (Photo: Matthias Gruber)   329 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   330 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   332 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 35v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   334 Schembartbuch, Nuremberg, ca. 1590 and ca. 1640. Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS. Douce 346, 257v-258r   342 Wall hanging, Middle Rhine, ca. 1410–1430 [Frankfurt am Main, Museum für Angewandte Kunst, Inv. No. 6809 (detail) (formerly in the Fürstl. Hohlenzollernschen Sammlung Schloss Sigmaringen)] Public Domain worldwide (Photo: FA2010)   344 Regensburg Pentateuch, Regensburg, Bavaria, Germany, ca. 1300 [Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/052; B05.0009], fol. 18v. Reproduced with the permission of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem, Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by Ardon Bar-Hama   353 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 36v-37r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced  355 with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 36v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   356 Mortar, Nuremberg Wenzel Jamnitzer, ca. 1550 [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Accession Number 2016.492 (Anna-Maria and Stephen Kellen Acquisitions Fund, 2016)] No Copyright, CCO 1.0 Universal (CCO 1.0) Public Domain Dedication (Photo: The Metropolitan Museum of Art)   359 Simeon haLevi Günzburg, Minhogim Bukh, Venice Giovanni di Gara, 1593, fol. 70v (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-heb-90]   362 Moissac, Abbey church of Saint-Pierre, tympanum of the southern portico, 1120–1135 (detail) Licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionShare Alike 3.0 Unported license (Photo Lohen11) (Photo: Joseph Renalias, under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3/0 Unported Licence)   369

List of Figures 

Figure 145

Figure 146

Figure 147

Figure 148

Figure 149

Figure 150

Figure 151

Figure 152

Figure 153

Figure 154

Figure 155

 451

Circumcision cushion cover, Southern Germany, 1614 [Basel, Jüdisches Museum der Schweiz, No. 1198]. Reproduced with the permission of the FMB – Frewilliger Museumsverein Basel   372 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fols. 43v-44r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   377 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   379 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   380 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   383 Crib of the Infant Jesus, Brabant (Southern Netherlands), 15c [New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Ruth Blumka in memory of Leopold Blumka, 1974.121a-d] No Copyright, CCO 1.0 Universal (CCO 1.0) Public Domain Dedication (Photo: The Metropolitan Museum of Art)   390 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 43v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   395 Four-poster bed, Falster Island (Denmark), ca. 1600 [Lund, Kulturen in Lund – Museum of Cultural History and Open-Air Museum, no. KM 8061] Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, 2.5 Generic, 2.0 Generic and 1.0 Generic license and the terms of  396 the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 (Photo: Xenophon)  Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   398 First Cincinnati Haggadah, Heidelberg (Germany), late 15c, fol. 4r [Cincinnati, The Klau Library, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institution of Religion, Ms. 444]. Reproduced with the permission of the Klau Library, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institution of Religion, Cincinnati   402 Prague Haggadah, Prague Gershom and Gronem Katz in 1526, fol. 3r (detail) [Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Library, postink-hebk-97, ekspl. 2] (detail). Reproduced with the permission from The Royal Danish Library, Copenhagen   403

452  Figure 156

Figure 157

Figure 158

Figure 159

Figure 160

 List of Figures

Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   407 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 41r (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   408 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 42v [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   415 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 42v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   417 Nuremberg Miscellany, Swabia (?), Germany, 1589, fol. 44v (detail) [Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, 80 Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203)]. Reproduced with the permission of the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg   426

Glossary The spelling of the terms used throughout the book follows the Hebrew-English transliteration rules described above, except for those cases in which an alternative spelling is widely accepted or when quoting from a previously published text. The bold-lettered words refer to terms that appear in the glossary, for crossreference. Addendum/Addenda

Addition/additions to the book after it has been printed

'Al haNissim

(Lit. Heb. = for the miracles) A prayer of gratitude, added to the daily prayer and to the Grace after Meals on Ḥanukkah and Purim. The first part is a general introduction of national redemption, followed by a description of the specific miracle performed on behalf of the Jewish People on each of these occasions, respectively

'Amidah

(Lit. Heb. = standing) “The Standing Prayer,” also called Shmoneh 'Esreh (“The Eighteen”). The main prayer of the Jewish liturgy, originally comprising eighteen blessings, recited three times daily on a weekday. On Shabbat, the First of the Month, and festivals, an abbreviated 'Amidah is the core of the “additional” prayer (Musaf)

Amora (plur. Amora’im)

(Lit. Ara. = he who says) Sages in Babylonia and Eretz Israel, either specifically mentioned in the Talmud or active during the period in which it was being compiled (ca. 200–500 CE), who taught and expounded the teachings of the Jewish Oral Law

Anthropomorphic [letters]

Initial letters composed of conflated human forms

'Arvit

The third of the three daily prayers, recited after dark (also called Ma'ariv)

Ascender

The part of a letter exceeding above its body

Ashkenaz

Jewish communities in the German-speaking realm, in which they settled in the early Middle Ages. From the seventeenth century on, the term refers also to Poland and other parts of Eastern Europe

Ashkenazim (sing. Ashkenazi)

Jews from the German-speaking realm. Also: of or following the rites and customs of the Jews of Ashkenaz

Ba'al Brit

(Lit Heb. = Master of the Covenant [of circumcision]), the person granted the honour of bearing the child during circumcision (see also Sandaq)

Bar (see also Ben)

(Lit. Ara. = son of) (abbreviated as b.) Indication of a patronym

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-015

454 

 Glossary

Baraita (plur. Baraitot)

(Lit. Ara. = outside) An apocryphal oral tradition of the Tana’im which was not included in the Mishnah canonised by R. Judah haNasi

Bas-de-page

(Lit. Fr. = bottom of page) Illustrations at the lower margin of the page

Beit Midrash

(Lit. Heb. = house of interpretation) Institution of Torah and rabbinical study

Ben (see also Bar)

(Abbreviated as b.) Son of (Heb.), indicating a patronym

Bifolio (see also Folio)

Sheet of parchment, paper, or other writing material folded in two to create two folios (and four pages)

Bimah

The platform in the synagogue for the ritual chanting of Torah reading(s) and the relevant passage from the Prophets, and from which part of the services is conducted

Birkat haLevanah

(Lit. Heb. = blessing of the moon) A blessing recited upon seeing the moon at the beginning of the month

Birkat haMazon

(Lit. Heb. = benediction of the food) Grace after Meals, recited at the conclusion of every major meal

Canon tables

Concordance table for two or more parallel texts of the Gospels, usually containing the ones compiled by Eusebius of Caesarea in the fourth century

Carpet page

Ornamental page in a manuscript, fully decorated and usually devoid of any text, but sometimes created by micrographic texts

Catchword

Word or words inscribed below the text-space in order to ensure the continuity and correct flow of the text, the arrangement of the quires, and the correct binding

Codex

A book in manuscript or print, comprising pages, gatherings, and a binding

Codicology

Study of the physical structure of the book

Colophon

A notation (usually) at the end of a book giving all or some details on the manuscript: title/name of work, author, scribe, punctuator, massorator, artist, patron, date, place of production, and circumstances

Descender

The part of a letter exceeding below its body

Display script

Decorative script, typically of higher-grade and larger size letters, often employing colour, meant to emphasise major textual openings

Eretz Israel

The Land of Israel

'Eruv tavshilin

(Lit. Heb. = mixture of [cooked] foods)—A halakhic ruling set to solve the problem of the prohibition to prepare food on a festival day that occurs on Friday for consumption on the ensuing Shabbat

Glossary 

 455

Etrog

Citron, Citrus medica—A citrus fruit, one of the Four Species used on the Festival of Sukkot

Ex libris

(Lit. Lat. = from the books) An indication of the ownership of a book, containing the name of the proprietor, but sometimes also the date and the circumstances of acquisition

Flyleaf

Leaves of parchment or paper added before and after the manuscript or printed book to protect it

Folio (plur. Folios)

Leaf in a manuscript or printed book comprising two pages

Foliation

The method of enumerating the leaves—not pages—in a book

Ga’on (plur. Ge’onim)

Title accorded to the heads of the Talmudic academies in Babylonia and Eretz Israel

Gathering

See Quire

Gemara

See Talmud

Ge’onim (sing. Ga’on)

See Ga’on

Grace after Meals

A series of benedictions recited after each major mal in which bread is included (Birkat haMazon)

Hafṭarah (plur. Hafṭarot)

(Lit. Heb. = completion) Passage from the Prophets read in the synagogue at the conclusion of the ritual Torah reading

Haggadah (plur. Haggadot)

(Lit. Heb. = telling) The liturgical text recited at the Passover Seder in fulfillment of the commandment to “tell your son” of the Jewish liberation from bondage in Egypt

Hakhnasat Kallah

Bringing the bride to her nuptials, including providing for her, clothing her, and escorting her with merrymaking and music to the wedding venue

Halakhah

The Jewish legal corpus, including biblical and rabbinic law

Ḥallah (plur. Ḥallot)

Special bread for Shabbat and the major Jewish holidays. Also: setting aside a portion from the dough prepared for baking bread

Ḥanukkah

(Lit. Heb. = dedication) [of the Temple in Jerusalem]. Eight-day minor festival commemorating the rededication of the Temple after the Greek oppression in 138 BCE, occurring around December

Hard point

A pointed implement of bone or metal used for ruling the parchment

Historiated initial

An initial word that contains images within it

Havdalah

(Lit. Heb. = distinction) Ceremony at the conclusion of Shabbat and festivals to distinguish between the holy and the mundane or weekdays, or between two consecutive events of holiness

Hetoimasia

(Lit. Gr. = preparation) In Christianity, the empty throne awaiting the Second Coming of Jesus

456 

 Glossary

Ḥol haMo'ed

The intermediate days between the beginning and ending holy days of Passover and Sukkot, of a semi-festival nature

Ḥuppah

Wedding canopy, under which the bridal couple stand during the ceremony. Also: the ceremony of nuptials held under the canopy

Iconography

Study of the interpretation and meaning of images

Incunabulum (also Incunabula, plur. Incunabula)

(Lit. Lat. = swaddling cloths for the cradle) Printed books, pamphlets or broadsheets printed before 1501

Kapparot

(Lit. Heb. = expiations) A rite of atonement in preparation for Yom Kippur in which one’s sins are symbolically transferred to a chicken or other fowl, a fish, or to a substitute amount in coins

Ketubbah

Marriage contract, given by the bridegroom to the bride at nuptials in the presence of a religious quorum and signed by two witnesses

Kiddush (plur. Kiddushim)

(Lit. Heb. = sanctification, separation) A ritual that involves reciting blessings over a cup of wine on the eve of Shabbat and Jewish festivals. A shorter version is recited before the morning meal on Shabbat and holidays. When recited on holidays, the wording is altered so as to refer to the respective event

Leviathan, Behemot and Ziz

Legendary creatures mentioned in the Bible. According to tradition, their flesh will be served to the righteous at the end of days

Line filler

Decorative device inscribed or drawn at the end of a written line to keep the outer margin even

Ma'ariv

See 'Arvit

Magen David

(Lit. Heb. = Shield of David) A Jewish symbol in the form of a hexagram, often associated with kabbalah and magic. Known also known as the “Star of David”

Maḥzor

Prayer book for the High Holidays, festivals, fast days, and the special Shabbatot

Marginalia

Decoration or illustration executed in the margin of the page, beyond the text-space

Massorah

Critical annotations on the Hebrew Bible, its words, consonants, vowels, and accents, used in determining the precise text of the Hebrew Bible, its pronunciation and cantillation. It comprises the Massorah Magna or the Greater Massorah and the Massorah Parva—the Lesser Massorah.

Massorator

A scholar who sought to fix the correct text of the Hebrew Bible (see also Massorah)

Masorete

Scribe/copyist of the Massorah

Glossary 

 457

Matriarchs

The four biblical matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah, wives of the Patriarchs

Maẓẓah (plur. Maẓẓot)

The unleavened bread for Passover

Megillot (sing. Megillah)

(Lit. Heb. = scroll) “Five Scrolls” of the Bible, chanted as part of the liturgy on five annual holidays: Song of Songs (on Passover), Ruth (on Shavu'ot-Pentecost), Ecclesiastes (on the Feast of Tabernacles-Sukkot), Lamentations (on the Ninth of Av), and Esther (on Purim)

Memorbuch (plur. Memorbücher)

(Lit. Ger. = memory book) A book of local nature, dedicated to the memory of Jewish martyrs

Mezuman

(also called Zimmun) A formula uttered by one of a quorum of three or more men of age who eat together, inviting them to join him in recital of the Grace after Meals

Mezuzah (plur. Mezuzot)

(Lit. Heb. = doorpost) A piece of parchment, inscribed with verses from Deuteronomy 6:4–9 and 11:13–21, fastened to the doorposts of every Jewish home, often contained in a decorative case

Midrash

Exegetical rabbinic literature of legends, stories on the life of biblical figures and events, rabbinic celebrities, and homilies, mainly based on the Bible

Mina

Measurement of liquids

Minhag (plur. Minhagim)

Jewish custom, rite, ritual, not deriving directly from biblical stipulation, often emanating from local customs and instituted by the rabbis in later generations

Minḥah

The Jewish daily afternoon prayer services

Minyan

(Lit. Heb. = count) The religious quorum necessary for public worship, counting a minimum of ten men, including boys over thirteen years of age (founded on Numbers 14:27)

Mise-en-page

(Lit. Fr. = placement on page) Layout of the page, including all of its textual and visual elements

Mishnah

Jewish Oral Law, the first transcription codified ca. 200 CE

Miẓvah (plur. Miẓvot)

(Lit. Heb. = commandment) Precept or commandment. There are 613 precepts stipulated in the Torah

Miqveh

Bath for ritual immersion

Mohel

Circumciser, a person professionally trained to perform ritual circumcisions

Moẓa’ei Shabbat

Termination of Shabbat, occurring on Saturday night

Moẓi Maẓẓah

The seventh section of the Haggadah (according to the Ashkenazi tradition) in which the maẓẓah is eaten

458 

 Glossary

Musaf

(Lit. Heb. = additional) An additional service that is recited on Shabbat, Rosh haShanah, the Day of Atonement, festivals, the intermediary days of festivals (Ḥol haMo'ed ), and the New Moon after the regular morning prayers. It substitutes the additional offerings instituted on these days during the time in which the Temple was erect (Num 28–29)

Neshamah Yeterah

(Lit. Heb. = additional soul) According to the Talmud, on the eve of Shabbat, God gives each person an additional soul, which is taken from him at the conclusion of Shabbat

'Omer

(Lit. Heb. = sheaf) A measure of volume of grain. An 'Omer of barley was one of the offerings brought to the Temple in Jerusalem. Also: The consecutive verbal counting of the forty-nine days following Passover and leading to Shavu'ot, as per Lev 23:15–16

Paleography (also spelled Palaeography or Palæography)

(From the Greek παλαιός = old, and γράφειν = to write) The study of writing and script, including all aspects of book production mainly in Antiquity and the Middle Ages, but also in later periods

Pantocrator

(From the Gr. Παντοκράτωρ = ruler of all) In Christian iconography, it refers to a depiction of Jesus on his heavenly throne, often surrounded by the symbols of the Evangelists

Parashah (plur. Parashot or Parashiyot; in the constructed form: Parashat)

(From the Heb. parash = to divide, separate) Textual unit of the Pentateuch, Torah portion

Paratext

Literary additions by editors, printers, and publishers, both within and outside the book, that are separate, though not necessarily independent from the main text, and may change the reception of a text or its interpretation by the readers

Passover (Pesach)

The first of the Pilgrimage Festivals observed in commemoration of the liberation of the Israelites from Egyptian yoke and their Exodus under the leadership of Moses. It is celebrated for seven days in Eretz Israel and eight days in the diaspora around March/April

Pastedown

A leaf pasted to the binding of a book, which does not belong to the book itself and originally does not contain any text

Patriarchs

The three fathers of the Jewish nation: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (see also Matriarchs)

Pilgrimage Festivals

The three biblical festivals during which pilgrimage to the Temple was observed

Piyyuṭ (plur. Piyyuṭim)

(From the Gr. Ποιητής = poet) Religious poetic composition recited in the synagogue in addition to the traditional liturgy on special Shabbatot, Jewish festivals, or specific ceremonial occasions

Glossary 

 459

Pricking

Holes or small marks in the sheets of the manuscript made by point or knife to guide the Ruling of the lines

Purim

(Lit. Heb. = lots) festival occurring around February/March commemorating the rescue of the Persian Jews from the extermination decree of Ahasuerus and Haman, as described in the Book of Esther

Pshat

One of the four methods of interpreting the Bible, denoting a simple reading of the text at face value

Putti (sing. Putto)

(Lit. Lat. = boys) Artistic depiction especially in European art of the Renaissance, Baroque and Roccoco, of cherubic infants, typically nude and sometimes winged

Quire

Gathering of leaves that, together with other quires, form the book

Rabbi

An ordained Jewish sage and teacher, and spiritual authority of a religious community

Rishonim

(Lit. Heb. = first, earliest) The period of the Early Sages, spanning approximately between the eleventh to the fifteenth century CE, preceding the Shulḥan 'Arukh

Rosh haShanah

The two-day Jewish New Year, occurring around September/ October

Rosh Ḥodesh

(Lit. Heb. = Head/Beginning of the Month) A semi-holiday occurring at the beginning of each (lunar) month of the Jewish calendar and celebrated for one or two days according to a prescribed calculation

Ruling

Marking of horizontal and vertical lines that delineate the text-space and guide the application of the text onto a manuscript

Sandaq

The person honoured with holding the infant during the circumcision ceremony

Sanhedrin

(Lit. Gr. συνέδριον = sitting together, assembly) The supreme religious body in the Land of Israel that constituted the highest magistracy in the time of the Temple until the abolition of the rabbinic patriarchate in about 425 CE

Scriptorium (plur. Scriptoria) (Lit. Lat. = from the medieval Lat. scriber = to write, hence – a place for writing) A term commonly used to refer to a workshop in medieval European monasteries designated to the copying of manuscripts Seder (also Leil haSeder)

(Lit. Heb. = order) The Eve on which the Seder ritual is performed, marking the beginning of Passover (celebrated on two consecutive nights in the Diaspora)

460 

 Glossary

Sefardi (plur. Sefardim). Also Descendants of Jews who lived in the Iberian Peninsula and left spelled Sephardi (sing.), it due to the persecutions of the Spanish Inquisition, especially Sephardim (plur.) after the Expulsions in 1492 and 1496. The term derives from the biblical name ‫( ְס ָפ ַרד‬Sefarad) which was associated with the Iberian Peninsula Sefer

(Lit. Heb. = book) A Codex, whether in manuscript form or printed. Also prefix to a scriptural opus

Shavu'ot

(Lit. Heb. = weeks) Festival of the Weeks. Second of the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Agriculturally, it commemorates the peak of the season, when the first fruits were brought into the Temple. It marks the conclusion of the seven-week Counting of the 'Omer, beginning on the second day of Passover, and celebrated on the sixth day of the month of Sivan (late May/early June). Historically, it marks the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and is therefore also known as the Festival of the Giving of the Law

SheHeḥeyanu

(Lit. Heb. = [He] who has given us life) A benediction recited to celebrate special occasions occurring for the first time and new acquisitions. It is recorded already in the Talmud

Shmoneh 'Esreh

(Lit. Heb. = eighteen) (see 'Amidah)

Siddur

Prayer book for regular weekdays (from the Hebrew seder = order [of services])

Singleton

Single leaf without a conjugate

Sivlonot

The bridegroom’s gifts to his future bride; often also vice versa

Sukkot

(Lit. Heb. = booths) Referring to the Festival of the Booths (a.k.a. Festival of the Tabernacles) The last of the three Pilgrimage Festivals, celebrated in commemoration of the temporary dwellings that served the Israelites in their sojourn in the desert, following the Exodus from Egypt. The festival begins on the fifteenth day of Tishrei and lasts for seven days in the Land of Israel and eight in the diaspora. (roughly late September/ October)

Ṭallit

prayer shawl

Talmud

(Lit. Heb. = instruction) The scholarly elucidation and discourse, the core of Jewish law, based mainly on mishnahic traditions and arranged accordingly. The Jerusalem Talmud was codified by sages in Eretz Israel around 350 CE, while the Babylonian Talmud was concluded in Babylonia around 500 CE

Tana (plur. Tana’im)

(Lit. Ara. = repeater, teacher) Rabbinic scholars who were active in Eretz Israel from approximately 10–220 CE, teachers of the Oral Law, whose views are recorded in the Mishnah

Ṭarṭemar

A measurement of liquids

Glossary 

 461

Techines

Private devotions and paraliturgical prayers in Yiddish recited primarily by women, from the Yiddish pronunciation for the Hebrew Teḥinnot (‫)ּת ִחּנֹות‬ ְ or supplications

Tenan

(Lit. Ara. = we have learned) Introduction of a citation of a text from the Mishnah in the Talmud

Tetramorphos

(Lit. Gr. tetra = four + morph = shape) In Judaism, the four creatures of the heavenly chariot described in Ezekiel 1:10, or the arrangement of the four symbols of the Evangelists In Christian iconography

Torah

Pentateuch (Five Books of Moses)

Ya'aleh veYavo

A special additional prayer inserted into the Shmoneh 'Esreh and the Grace after Meals on holidays, the First of the Month, and the semi-festival days

Yizkor

(Lit. Heb. = will remember) Memorial of the dead noted in an inscription, or a public prayer recited four times a year by the congregation during Jewish holiday services

Yeshivah (plur. Yeshivot)

(Lit. Heb. = sitting) talmudical academy, rabbinical academy in which Jewish traditional texts form the core curriculum

Yom Kippur

(also Yom haKippurim) Day of Atonement, the tenth day of the month of Tishrei, dedicated to prayer and repentance, a fast-day

Yoẓer (plur. Yoẓrot)

(Lit. Heb. = He creates) A medieval liturgical hymn (Piyyuṭ) that precedes and follows the blessings surrounding the morning recitation of the Shema'

Zimmun

(see Mezuman)

Ẓiẓit

Fringes attached to the Ṭallit and to the smaller Ṭallit, used as an undergarment

Zmirot

Hymns, usually sung during Shabbat and Jewish holidays

Zoomorphic [letters]

Initial letters composed of conflated animal forms

Bibliography A Manuscripts (Arranged alphabetically according to location of libraries) Manuscripts known bibliographically by a given title, in addition to a library callnumber, have been cited with that name throughout the book, in italics.

Hebrew Amsterdam, Jewish Historical Museum, and Jüdisches Museum Köln, Archäologische Zone – Amsterdam Maḥzor: Amsterdam, Collection Jewish Historical Museum, and Jüdisches Museum Köln, Archäologische Zone, M014777 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz – Grammatical compendium: Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, Ms. or. quart. 2 – Pentateuch with Hafṭarot: Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung, Ms. or. quart. 691 Cincinnati, Hebrew Union College, Klau Library – First Cincinnati Haggadah: Cincinnati, Hebrew Union College, Ms. 444 Darmstadt, Hessische Landes- und Hochschulbibliothek – Darmstadt Hammelburg Maḥzor: Darmstadt, Hessische Landes- und Hochschulbibliothek, Cod. Or. 13 Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Dresden Maḥzor: Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek, Ms. A 46a Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek – Hazkarat Neshamot: Memorbuch für die Seelenfeier der Gemeinde Minden/Westfalen: Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Hebr. oct. 97 – Minhagim in Yiddish: Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Hebr. oct. 34 – Miscellany: Frankfurt am Main, Stadt- und Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. Hebr. oct. 256 Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek – Hamburg Miscellany: Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. heb. 37 – Miscellany: Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. hebr. 205 (Uff. 232) – Miscellany: Hamburg, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. heb. 136 (Uff. 87) – Pentateuch with Massorah, Hafṭarot, Megillot and miscellaneous texts: Hamburg, Staatsund Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Levy 19

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-016

A Manuscripts 

 463

Jerusalem, Central Archive for the History of the Jewish People – Verpflichtung der Gemeindevorsteher, Bonim ben Gimpel aus Pfersee als Vorbeter und Schächter anzustellen: Jerusalem, Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, P16-17-22 Jerusalem, National Library of Israel – Moskowitz Maḥzor: Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, MS. Heb. 40 1384 – Worms Maḥzor: Jerusalem, National Library of Israel, MS. Heb. 40 781I/II [Jerusalem, Schocken Library] – Schocken Bible: Formerly Jerusalem, Schocken Library, Ms. 14840 (present ownership unknown) Jerusalem, The Israel Museum – Bird’s Head Haggadah: Jerusalem, The Israel Museum (purchased through the gift of Fred Monosson, Boston), 180/57; M912-4-46 – Erna Michael Haggadah: Jerusalem, The Israel Museum (Gift of Jakob Michael in memory of Erna Sondheimer-Michael), 181/018; M549-3-66 – Yahuda Haggadah: Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/50; B55.01.0109 – Regensburg Pentateuch: Jerusalem, The Israel Museum, 180/52; B05.0009 Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek – Halakhic Miscellany: Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Inv. No. B.H. 26 – Leipzig Maḥzor: Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek, Vollers 1102/I-II Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional – Cervera Bible: Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional de Lisboa, Ms. Hebr. 72 London, The British Library – Ashkenazi Haggadah [Uri Feibush Haggadah]: London, British Library, Add. Ms. 14762 – Coburg Pentateuch: London, British Library, Add. MS 19776 – Duke of Sussex Pentateuch: London, British Library, Add. MS 15282 – Golden Haggadah: London, British Library, Add. MS 27210 – Maḥzor with miscellaneous texts: London, British Library, MS Harley 5686 – Mocatta Haggadah: London, British Library, MS Mocatta 1 – North French Miscellany: London, British Library, Add. MS 11639 – Psalter with calendar: British Library, MS Arundel 157 – Sister to Golden Haggadah: London, British Library, Ms. Or. 2884 London, David Sofer Collection – Second Nuremberg Haggadah (formerly Jerusalem, Schocken Library, Ms. 24087) Milano, Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Ambrosiana Bible: Milano, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, MS. B. 32 inf. Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek – Literary texts in Yiddish: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 347 – Maḥzor for the High Holidays with Yiddish translation: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 89 – Miscellany of tales in Yiddish: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 100

464  – –

 Bibliography

Miscellany: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 66 Paraphrase on Job: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Hebr. 306

Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek – Nuremberg Miscellany: Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum Nuremberg, 8° Hs. 7058 (Rl. 203) Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford – Laud Maḥzor: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Laud Or. 321 – First Kennicott Bible: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Kennicott 1 – Michael Maḥzor: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Michael 617 – Oppenheimer Siddur: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS O776 – Ritual decisions according to R. Meir of Rothenburg: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Bodl. Or. 146 – Sefer Maharil: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS O751 – Tripartite Maḥzor: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Michael 619 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France – Bible: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. Hébr. 4 Stuttgart, Württembergishes Landesbibliothek – Prescription book in Yiddish: Stuttgart, Württembergishes Landesbibliothek, H.B. XI. Phys. med. math. 18 Tübingen, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Staatsbibliothek – Pentateuch with Hafṭarot in Yiddish: Tübingen, Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Staatsbibliothek, Ms. Or. qu. 691 Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana – Bible with Massorah figurata: Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Urb. I – Maḥzor: Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Vat. Ebr. 438 – Vatican Arba'ah Turim: Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostilica Vaticana, Cod. Ross. 535 Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka we Wrocławiu – Wrocław Maḥzor: Wrocław, Biblioteka Uniwersytecka we Wrocławiu, Cod. Or. I/1

Non-Hebrew Cambridge, St. John’s College – La Somme le Roi: Cambridge, St. John’s College, MS B.9 Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek – Albrecht Dürer. Dresdner Skizzenbuch: Dresden, Sächsische Landesbibliothek – Staatsund Universitätsbibliothek, Mscr. Dresd. R 147 f Den Haag, Museum Meermanno-Huis van het boek – Peter Comestor. Bible Historiale: Den Haag, Museum Meermanno-Huis van het boek and Koninklijke Bibliotheek-Westreenianum, MMW, 10 B

B Jewish Primary and Rabbinic Sources 

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Glasgow University Library – William Caxton. The Golden Legend, Westminster: Glasgow University Library, Sp. Coll, Hunterian Bg.1.1 London, The British Library – Cotton Genesis: London, British Library, MS Cotton Otho B VI – Solomon Trimosin. Splendor Solis: London, British Library, Harley MS 3469 Lyon, Bibliothèque Municipale – Speculum humanae salvationis: Lyon, Bibliothèque Municipale, Ms 245 Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek – Willkomm-Buch von Kirchensittenbach: Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, HS 143516 Nuremberg, Stadtbibliothek – Hausbuch der Nürnberger Zwölfbrüderstiftung: Nuremberg, Stadtbibliothek, Amb. 279.2° (Landauer I) – Die Hausbücher der Nürnberger Zwölfbrüderstiftung: Nürnberg, Stadtbibliothek, Amb. 317.2° (Mendel I) Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford – Bohemian/Moravian Latin missal: Oxford, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, MS Lat. liturg. d.11 Würzburg, Stadtarchiv – Bischofschronik des Lorenz Fries: Würzburg, 1546: Würzburg, Stadtarchiv, Ratsbuch 412

B Jewish Primary and Rabbinic Sources Abraham b. Nathan [haYarḥhi] of Lunel. Sefer ha-Manhig: Rulings and Customs. Published according to the Oxford MS with Additions and Variants in the New York and Vatican MSS and the Constantinople Edition with Introduction, Indication of Sources, Parallels. Edited by Isaac Refael. Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1978 (Hebrew) Abudarham, David b. Joseph. Sefer Abudarham. Warsaw: N. Shriftgisser, 5638 [1877] (Hebrew) Altschul, Moses b. Hanokh. Brandspiegel. Translated into Judæo-German by Phinehas b. Judah Heilprin. Krakow: 1596 (Hebrew title page: Sefer haMar’ah) (Yiddish) Amram b. Sheshna Ga’on. Sidur tefilah ke-minhag Ashkenaz ʻim seder Rav ʻAmram ha-shalem . . . / nisderu ṿe-nitbaʾaru ʻal yede Aryeh Leb Frumḳin . . . Jerusalem: S. Tsuḳerman, 5672 [1911–1912] (Hebrew) Amram b. Sheshna (Amram Ga’on). Seder Rav Amram Ga' on. Warsaw: S. Jawitz i syn, 5625 [1865] (Hebrew) Asher b. Yehi’el. Orhot Hayim. Jerusalem: Hotsa’at Yerid ha-sefarim, 1999 (Hebrew) Bacharach, Ya’ir Ḥayyim b. Moses Samson. Sefer She'elot u-teshuvot Ḥaṿat Ya'ir: teshuvot ḥashuvot, ke-zaṿiyot meḥuṭavot. Ramat Gan: Mekhon 'Eḳed sefarim, 5757 [1997] (Hebrew) Baruch ben Isaac of Worms. Sefer haTerumah. Jerusalem: Mif’al Torat Ḥakhme Ashkenaz; Machon Yerushalayim, 5770 [2009–2010] (Hebrew)

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Index Main entries are capitalized, except for proper nouns and names with lower-cased prefixes, such as: “haMavdil”. Such entries will be listed according to their first upper-cased letter. Subentries are lower-cased and indented, except for proper nouns and names. Personal names are listed alphabetically according to surname. Alternative spelling (plural forms or, in, rare cases, nomenclature) is set within square brackets. Additional referenced entries are noted at the end of the entry as: (See also…) Cross-references are noted as: See…. Main extensive sections and ranges are noted with inclusive page numbers separated by a dash and underlined, substituting passim. Footnote references are marked with the page number followed by the ⁰ sign and the footnote number, e.g., 239⁰54. Abraham 397⁰3, 407, 411, 412 (See also Sarah) – and the luminaries 119, 120, 152, 152⁰286, 153 – calf 74⁰16, 125, 146, 147 (see also Tongues in mustard) – circumcision of 138, 138⁰230, 140, 149, 152, 152⁰285, 162 – heavenly guests [messengers] 114, 120, 122–158, 161, 352⁰16, 422, 431 (See also Gabriel; Michael; Raphael) – hospitality of 114, 119, 122–163, 265, 422, 431 – righteousness of 120, 123, 152, 157 – tongues in mustard 146, 147, 431 Adam 161, 217, 254, 294, 295, 314, 345, 346 Additional soul See Shabbat: additional soul 'Al haNissim 190, 191, 210, 218, 219, 220, 221, 221⁰187, 270 Altar – Christian 151, 391 – Jewish 136, 138, 138⁰229, 219, 243, 274, 357, 424⁰9 Altschul-Yerushalmi, Moses Henochs  See Brantspigel Ambrosiana Bible 76, 117, 143, 156, 416, 417

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110414196-017

'Amidah 190, 191, 191⁰88, 210, 218, 221, 242, 251, 270, 381 Amman, Jost 192, 299, 300, 307 (See also Trachtenbuch; Weigel, Hans) Amsterdam Maḥzor 91, 101 Amulet 35, 364, 364⁰59, 374, 375, 382, 385 (See also Apotropaism; Fig sign; Magic; Superstition) Angel 126, 129, 131, 145, 148, 149, 150, 160, 346, 374, 375, 407, 411 (See also Gabriel; Michael; Raphael) Angel of the Covenant See Circumcision: Messenger of the Covenant Angster See Kuttrolf Annunciation – to Mary 131, 132, 133, 160 – to Sarah 131, 145, 157, 160, 421 Anthropomorphism 18, 57, 59, 97, 165, 166, 168 (See also Humanoid; Zoomorphism)  Apotropaism 29, 170, 364, 382, 383⁰136, 385, 386, 389 (See also Amulet; Fig sign; Magic; Superstition) Archetypal animals 68–89, 428 (See also Ezekiel’s vision; Tetramorphos) Asher b. Yehi’el (a.k.a. Rosh)294, 295, 416 Ashkenazi Haggadah 402

512 

 Index

Ashkenazi, Jacob b. Isaac of Janów See Tsene-rene Ashmedai 138, 139 (See also Demon) Astrology 40, 249 – in Judaism 115⁰155, 116, 326, 326⁰147, 327 Augsburg 51, 283, 346, 347 (See also Kriegshaber; Pfersee) – Jews in and around 48, 48⁰95, 51, 86, 86⁰45, 434, 434⁰28, 436, 437, 437⁰42 Avot 69, 69⁰6, 77, 86⁰45, 93, 109, 109⁰130,110, 327, 357, 428 Ba'al brit See Circumcision: sandaq Bar miẓvah 262, 378 Bassevi von Treuenberg, Jacob 81 Beaker See Goblet Bear 332, 333, 334, 340, 347 Bed 354, 378, 394, 394⁰184, 395, 396 Beer 233⁰42, 264, 277, 278 Beginning of the Month See New Moon Bell 343, 344, 345, 388⁰154 – apotropaic 389, 389⁰161, 390, 393 – childbirth and cribs 384, 384⁰137, 388–394 – Schellentracht 343 (See also Belt: Schellengürtel) – Schembartläufer 342, 343, 347 (See also Schembartlauf) Belt 142, 226, 343, 344⁰210, 345 (See also Sivlonot) – Schellengürtel 343, 344, 394 (See also Schellentracht) – use on Shabbat 225, 226 Benediction over Bread 171–178, 179 Bestiary 100, 101, 106, 108, 159, 160 Betrothal 279, 280, 285, 290, 309 Binding 10, 11, 12, 14, 165 Binding of Isaac See Isaac: Binding of Bingen XI, XII, XIII (See also Wedding: breaking the glass) Birds’ Head Haggadah 117⁰162, 133⁰213 Birkat haLevanah See New Moon Birth 48, 86, 145, 146, 326, 349, 354, 372 – birthright 397⁰3, 398, 405, 411 – of Isaac 122, 129, 146, 148, 421, 422 – perils 43⁰74, 349, 373–396 (See also Hollekreisch)

Blessing for rain 208, 308 (See also Prayer for Dew; Zodiac) Blessing of offspring 87, 404, 405, 406, 407, 408, 411, 412, 413, 414 (See also Isaac: blessing Jacob) Brandenburg, Margraviate 81 Brantspigel [+Brandspigel] 44, 413 Brauthaus See Wedding: house Brautmesse See Wedding: mass Brautportal See Marriage: bridal portal Brauttanz See Wedding: dance Brauttür [+Brauttor] See Marriage: bridal portal Bread 124, 125, 180, 189, 230, 397⁰1, 406 (See also Benediction over Bread; Ḥallah) Bride 132, 273, 279–348, 424, 432, 435 Bridegroom [+Groom] XI, 279–348, 423, 432 Burgau 51, 79, 80, 82, 89, 373, 434, 436 Buxtorf, Johannes, the Elder 293, 294, 296, 312, 317⁰113, 319, 320, 345, 346, 356, 363, 367, 371 Calendar 35, 193 – Christian 388 – Jewish 40, 162⁰331, 163, 163⁰331, 204⁰124, 205, 205⁰125, 205⁰126, 242⁰71, 427⁰14 (See also New Moon) Candle [+Light] – Ḥanukkah 269, 271, 273, 274 – Havdalah 251, 252, 253, 254, 259, 260, 261, 262, 400, 422 (See also Conclusion of Shabbat: Havdalah; Conclusion of Shabbat: Havdala-Holz) – for Shabbat 43, 420 – in weddings 331 Canopy 120, 279, 280, 281, 282, 289–329, 423 (See also Wedding: canopy) Carnival 338⁰190, 341, 341⁰205, 343, 347, 348 (See also Schembartlauf) Carriage 56, 280, 281, 284–289, 432 (See also Coach) Caul See Crespine; Hairnet; Kabul Cauldron 360, 361, 362 Celestial bodies See Luminaries Censer 31, 32, 256 (See also Hadas; Conclusion of Shabbat: spice box) Cervera Bible 165

Index 

Circumcision 123, 190, 270, 271, 349–373, 381, 387, 412, 421, 422 – chair 355, 364, 366, 366⁰71, 367, 367⁰74, 369, 370, 371, 371⁰91, 372 – circumciser 41, 352, 354, 357, 358, 358⁰40, 360⁰46, 364, 365, 369 – Messenger of the Covenant 352⁰17, 365, 370 (See also Elijah) – mohel-book 35, 41, 41⁰64 – perils 375, 376, 376⁰109 – sandaq 352–358, 365, 370 (See also Coronet: of the sandaq) Cloven hoof 218, 219, 409⁰47 Coach 286, 287, 287⁰33, 288 (See also Carriage) Coat of arms 80, 81, 82, 84, 85, 86⁰45, 88, 93, 110, 112, 436 Coburg Pentateuch 194 Colophon 13, 36, 47, 68, 166, 422, 426, 426⁰13, 427, 429 (See also Eli'ezer b. Mordechai the Martyr) Column 89, 93, 95, 96, 98, 101, 104, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 120, 165 (See also Pillar; Yakhin and Bo'az) Commandments 72, 86, 173, 243 – Ten Commandments 70, 72, 93 – time-bound positive Miẓvot 42, 42⁰73, 228, 262⁰131, 273 Conclusion of Shabbat 87, 208, 209, 207, 400, 401, 403 – Havdalah [+Havdala] 31, 87, 209, 210, 233⁰42, 235, 249, 250–266, 412, 421, 422 (See also Yakenhaz) – Havdala-Holz 260, 261 – spice box [+tower] 31, 253–262 Coronet 103, 110, 110⁰131, 112, 113 (See also Crown; Mary: coronation of the Virgin) – bridal [+wedding] 283–304, 327 – of the High Priest 357 – of Michael 149, 149⁰274, 150 – of the sandaq 356, 357 Court jesters 343, 345 Court Jew 80, 81, 436, 436⁰42 Cradle See Crib Creation of the world 89, 110, 111, 113, 118, 119, 139, 152, 155, 191, 192, 250, 259, 295, 326, 380

 513

Crespine [+Crespinette] 335, 335⁰176, 336 (See also Hairnet; Kabul) Crest See Coat of arms Crib 364, 378, 382–390, 393, 394, 396, 421 (See also Bell: childbirth and cribs) Crown 110⁰131, 113, 165, 221, 306, 307, 416 (See also Coronet; Coronet: bridal; Mary: coronation of the Virgin) – of Torah, priesthood, and royalty – [+of good name] 110, 327, 357 Cushion 367, 368, 368⁰76, 368⁰79, 369, 371, 392, 397 Dance 207, 283, 329–348 (See also Dance house; Wedding: dance) Dance house [+(Ger.) Tanzhaus] 291, 291⁰42, 315 Darmstadt Hammelburg Maḥzor 104 David [+Davidic] 92, 138⁰229, 170, 173⁰28, 199, 201, 284, 398⁰3 Day of Atonement 76, 91, 152⁰285, 242⁰71, 260⁰122, 263, 416 (See also Abraham: circumcision of) Demon [+demonic] 269, 341, 373, 374 (See also Ashmedai; Evil spirit; Fig sign; Holle; Lilith) – warding off 170, 202, 375, 382⁰129, 385, 386, 386⁰145, 388, 389⁰161, 393⁰178, 416⁰77 Diadem See Coronet Divorce [+Divorcee] 35, 280, 283, 285, 290, 296⁰59, 303, 316, 332 – bill of 35, 285 Domum deductio 282, 339, 339⁰196 Dove [+Turtledove] 132, 133, 134, 135, 273, 276, 414⁰68 Dresden Maḥzor 308 Duke of Sussex Pentateuch 103 Dürer, Albrecht, the Younger 23, 82, 133, 239, 240 Eagle 77–85, 109 (See also Archetypal animals)  Easter 338, 401, 410 Edom [+Edomite] 88, 246, 247, 412 Egypt 162, 163⁰331, 176, 186, 189, 190, 205, 268, 361

514 

 Index

Ehestein See Marriage: stone Ehetür See Marriage: bridal portal Elephant 93–111, 159 Eliakim b. Joseph of Mainz 98, 98⁰83 Eli'ezer b. Mordechai the Martyr 36, 47, 427 (See also Colophon) Eli'ezer b. Nathan of Mainz (a.k.a. Ra’aven) 225, 310 Elijah 249 (See also Messenger of the Covenant) Elonei Mamre See Mamre Entertainer 281, 337, 338, 339, 343, 345, 347 (See also Court jesters; Jester) Ephraim of Regensburg 254 Erna Michael Haggadah 76 Erusin See Betrothal 'Eruv [+const. 'Eruvei] tavshilin 397, 397⁰1, 403, 404 Esau 87, 88, 397–414, 421 Escutcheon See Coat of arms Esther 218, 220, 221 (see also Purim) – book of [+scroll] 43⁰77, 220, 221 Ethics of the Fathers See Avot Etrog 154, 155 Evangelist 75, 76⁰20, 94, 368, 392 Evil eye 202, 203, 382⁰129, 383⁰136 Evil spirit 170, 315, 364, 385, 388 Eyeglasses [+glasses] 186–189 Ezekiel’s vision 74, 74⁰16, 76, 77, 416 (See also Archtypal animals; Tetramorphos) Feast of the Righteous 143, 156, 250 (See also Garden of Eden; Paradise; World to Come) Feast of Tabernacles See Sukkot Feige See Fig sign Festival 205, 360 (See also Minor festivals; Pilgrimage festivals) – Church and popular 337, 338, 392 – liturgy and customs 43, 43⁰76, 43⁰77, 60, 87, 170, 174, 182, 185, 191⁰88, 204, 209, 235, 242, 242⁰71, 243, 244, 250, 250⁰94, 254, 260⁰122, 264 Fig sign 201–204 First Kennicott Bible 166 First of the Month See New Moon

Fish 147, 189, 397, 397⁰1, 407, 408, 408⁰41, 410, 414⁰67 (See also Shabbat: meals and food) Five Scrolls 43, 43⁰77, 220 Gabriel 131, 132, 148, 149, 149⁰272, 150, 151, 160 (See also Angel; Abraham: heavenly guests) Garden of Eden 128, 139, 140⁰243, 143⁰253, 154, 155, 156, 157, 265, 266, 294, 295, 346, 374 (See also Feast of the righteous; Paradise) Gate [+gateway] – architectural 91, 103, 125, 128, 129, 132, 133, 135, 181, 213 – of books or chapters 57, 68, 69, 89, 89⁰56, 123 – of heaven 263 – of Mercy 76 Gazelle 180, 185, 331⁰164, 413 (See also Hart; Stag) Germanic – culture and folklore 29, 33, 135, 202, 306, 313⁰99, 331, 347⁰220, 375, 381, 382, 409 – realm 25, 81, 277, 351 Geṭ [+plur. Giṭṭin] See Divorce: bill of Giving of the Law 118, 331 (See also Tablets of the Law) Glass 186, 277⁰43 (See also Eyeglasses; Wedding: breaking the glass) – forest 141, 141⁰246, 149, 276, 277, 380, 394, 425⁰12 – stained 32, 94, 97⁰77 – Venetian [+clear] 141, 141⁰244, 233, 277, 425 Glasses See Eyeglasses Glutton 61, 181, 183, 185, 273, 405, 424 Goblet 84, 141, 231, 233, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 241⁰68, 243, 244, 253, 254, 262, 276, 279, 380, 394, 425 Gold  – gold- and silversmith 23, 30, 31, 86, 238, 239, 241, 256, 324 (See also Probiermusterbuch der Goldschmiede 1512–76) – in manuscripts 20, 38, 38⁰54, 45, 58, 65, 66, 168, 178, 427

Index 

Golden Haggadah 404 Gothic art 22, 23, 24, 100, 107, 160, 239, 240, 276, 394 – Jewish 18, 58, 97, 97⁰77, 165, 167, 256, 257 Grace after Meals 61, 121, 164–204, 223, 231, 232, 236, 424, 431 – large quorum 179, 179⁰57, 423, 424 – temporal additions to 190, 210, 218, 221, 231, 242, 243, 270, 365 (See also 'Al haNissim; Reẓe veHaḥaliẓenu; Ya'aleh veYavo’) – zimmun 179, 179⁰57, 180⁰58 Grape [+vine] 172⁰27, 174, 180, 185, 233, 235, 263–266 Groom See Bridegroom Guild 29, 30⁰25, 65, 188, 241, 256, 341 Günzburg [a. d. Donau] 50⁰99, 373, 436 Günzburg (surname) See Ulma-Günzburg family Gutenberg, Johannes 22, 24 Gutter [+Guttrolff] 318, 318⁰117, 319 (See also Kuttrolf)  Habsburg 51, 80, 82 Hadas 31, 255 (See also Myrtle; Conclusion of Shabbat: spice box) Hadlaqat haNer 42, 43 (See also Shabbat: lights; Commandments: time-bound positive Miẓvot) Hairnet 288, 297, 334, 335 (See also Crespine; Kabul) Hakhnasat Kallah 281, 282 Ḥallah 42, 174, 174⁰38, 228⁰23  (See also Commandments: time-bound positive Miẓvot) Haman 220, 221, 222 (See also Purim) Ḥanukkah 55, 190, 191, 214, 215⁰172, 267–278 (See also Judith; Minor festivals) Hare 400, 401, 401⁰15, 402, 403, 408, 409, 410 (See also Yakenhaz) Hart 69, 70, 73, 75, 77, 86⁰45, 87, 88, 109, 428 (See also Gazelle; Stag) – Nation of Israel 88, 88⁰52, 412 Hasmoneans 99⁰85, 210, 212, 214, 218, 219⁰182, 267–270, 273 (See also Maccabees)

 515

Heavenly guests [+messengers]  See Abraham: heavenly guests Heavenly throne 75, 76 Hebraist [+Hebraism] 28, 28⁰18, 293 Heraldic [+heraldry] 77, 78, 80, 80⁰31, 81, 84, 85, 110 Heß, Ernst Ferdinand 393, 394 Hetoimasia 76, 368 Ḥileq and Bileq Haggadah 323, 324 Hinnuma’ 284, 316, 331 Hochzeitsstein See Marriage: stone Hofnarren See Court jesters Hohenstaufen 85 Holle 381, 381⁰126, 381⁰127, 382, 386 Hollekreisch [+Holle Kreisch] 45, 87, 373–396, 420, 421, 432 Holofernes 210–219, 273, 274 (See also Judith) Hoopoe 136–140, 155, 157 Horse 219–222, 280, 287, 288 Hourglass 190–196 Humanoid 59, 97, 166, 167, 269 (See also Anthropomorphism; Zoomorphism) Ḥuppah See Wedding: canopy Ḥuppahstein See Marriage: stone Insignia See Coat of arms Isaac 146, 148, 174, 296, 422 – Binding of 138⁰229, 144, 145, 146, 352, 411 – blessing Jacob 87, 88, 174, 397–414, 421 – circumcision of 351, 352 Isaac b. Moses of Vienna 120, 226, 254, 356, 370, 370⁰83 Israelites 113, 133⁰213, 161, 176, 177, 205, 361 (See also People of Israel) Isserlein, Israel b. Petaḥiah 210, 345 Isserles, Moses (a.k.a. Rema) 178, 264, 292, 324 Jacob 50, 87, 88, 161, 174, 208 (See also Isaac: blessing Jacob) Jamnitzer, Christoph 107 (See also Silver: gold- and silversmith) Jamnitzer, Wenzel 84, 241, 359 (See also Silver: gold- and silversmith)

516 

 Index

Jerusalem 190, 192⁰89, 199, 201, 219, 243, 247, 268, 274, 284, 325⁰144, 336, 337, 401⁰13 (See also Temple; Zion) Jester 337, 343, 344 (See also Entertainer; Court jesters) Jesus 75, 76, 133, 149⁰274, 160, 195⁰99, 284⁰20, 368, 383⁰136, 384, 384⁰137, 391–393 (See also Bell: childbirth and cribs) Jewish year 45, 163, 192, 367, 419 (See also Calendar: Jewish) Joseph 163, 203, 352⁰18, 398⁰3, 407 Joseph-Who-Honours-the-Shabbat 249 Joshua 72, 120, 173⁰28, 413⁰64 Judah b. Teima 69, 70, 73, 74, 77, 84, 86, 86⁰45, 109, 110, 428 Judas Maccabeus 214, 219, 268, 273 Juden Schul See Synagoga Iudaica Judith 210–219, 273, 274, 420 (See also Holofernes) Jungfrauenportal See Wise and Foolish Virgins Kabbalah [+Kabbalistic] 28, 40, 170, 230⁰31, 364, 383⁰134, 385⁰142 Kabul 335, 336 (See also Crespine; Hairnet) Kapparot 414–418, 421–422 Kaufmann Mishneh Torah 167 Ketubbah [+plur. Ketubbot] See Marriage: contract Key 223–231, 420 Kiddush 231–244, 380, 399, 400, 401, 403, 420, 432 Kiddush haḤodesh See New Moon Kiddush Levanah See New Moon Kiddush haShem See Martyr Kiddushin See Betrothal Knife 142–146, 341 Kriegshaber 48⁰94, 51, 86⁰45, 436, 436⁰39 (See also Augsburg; Pfersee) Kuttrolf 318, 319, 320, 425⁰12 (See also Angster; Gutter) Labour of the month 162, 208, 308, 361, 362 Land of Israel 172, 174, 192⁰89, 265, 298, 365 Laud Maḥzor 102, 103, 351 Leipheim 86⁰45, 436

Leipzig Maḥzor 304 Leopard 70, 73, 74, 77 (See also Archetypal animals) Leviathan, Behemot, and Ziz See Feast of the Righteous Life cycle 29, 45, 54, 86, 233, 270, 279, 367, 419, 420 Lilith 364, 364⁰59, 374, 374⁰102, 375, 375⁰108, 382, 385, 393 (See also Demon) Lion 70–77, 85, 86⁰45, 98, 98⁰83, 101, 102, 109, 165, 416 (See also Archetypal animals) Luminaries 92, 93, 113, 114–121, 151, 152, 153, 207, 208, 209, 259, 326 – idolatrous worship of 115⁰155, 326⁰146 Luntshitz, Solomon Ephraim b. Aaron 123, 142, 148, 189, 429 Luria, Solomon (a.k.a. Maharshal) 271 Luther, Martin 4, 24 Maccabees 268 (See also Hasmoneans) Magen David 363, 364, 382–387 Magic (See also Amulet; Apotropaism; Superstition) – Christian 389 – Jewish 29, 139, 364⁰59, 375, 376⁰109, 385, 386, 386⁰145, 389, 390 – pagan 202, 389 Maharam of Rothenburg See Meir b. Barukh of Rothenburg Maharaz See Zack, Judah b. Nathan Mahari Bruna See Bruna, Israel b. Ḥayyim Maharil See Möllin, Jacob b. Moses Maharshal See Luria, Solomon Maḥzor [+plur. maḥzorim] 46, 91, 101, 118⁰143, 208, 292, 304 Mamre 124, 128, 136, 145, 152, 153, 157, 161 Mandatory meal 180, 270, 271, 278, 365, 423 Margaritha, Anthonius [+Antonius] 317, 318, 370, 376, 376⁰109 Marriage 86, 87, 231, 279–349, 422, 423, 437 (See also Wedding) – bridal portal 313, 313⁰102, 314, 315, 316 – bridegroom door 315 – contract 35, 283, 283⁰16, 284, 303, 317, 321, 323, 324, 331, 339 – stone XI, XII, XIII, 309–316, 386, 387

Index 

Martyr 26, 36, 36⁰49, 41, 42, 47, 427 Mary 131, 132, 133, 160, 284⁰20, 306, 307, 313, 314, 368, 384 – coronation of the Virgin 304, 306, 314 Mazal Ṭov 309, 322, 323, 325, 326, 327, 387 Maẓẓah [+plur. maẓẓot] 142, 175, 176 Meien 296, 296⁰59, 331 Meir b. Barukh of Rothenburg (a.k.a. Maharam of Rothenburg) 98, 207, 208, 271, 274⁰35, 358, 358⁰40, 358⁰41 haMe’iri, Menaḥem b. Shlomo 225 Memorbuch [+Memorbücher] 41, 41⁰69, 42, 435 Messenger of the Covenant See Circumcision: Messenger of the Covenant Messiah [+messianic] 155, 157, 218, 365 Mezuzah [+plur. mezuzot] 35, 47, 87, 386⁰145 Michael 131, 132, 148–151 (See also Angel; Abraham: heavenly guests) Minhogim bukh 162, 208, 236, 262, 263, 292, 312, 362, 419 (See also Ulma-Günzburg family: Simeon haLevi Günzburg) Minor festivals 45, 190, 191, 269, 270 (See also Festival; Ḥanukkah; Purim) Minyan 179, 350⁰9, 423 Miraculous tree See Oracle tree Model book XII, 1, 30, 66⁰11, 107, 256, 426 Mohel See Circumciser Mohel-book See Circumciser: Mohel-book Möllin, Jacob b. Moses (a.k.a. Maharil) 174, 175, 178, 235, 290, 309, 316, 340⁰199, 357, 358, 370 Monstrance [+Monstranz (Ger.)] 31, 255, 257, 258, 259 Mordechai 220, 221, 222 (See also Purim) Mordechai [b. Hillel haKohen] 263 Moses 162, 171, 173⁰2, 205, 224⁰4, 321, 346, 357⁰38, 413⁰64 – likened to the sun 120 – receiving the Law 72, 139 Moses b. Jacob of Coucy 271 Mount Moriah 138⁰229, 145, 157 Moẓa’ei Shabbat See Conclusion of Shabbat haMoẓi’ See Benediction over Bread

 517

Music 120, 121, 143, 281, 284, 294, 296⁰59, 328, 329–348 – drum 284, 298, 333, 334, 346, 347 – fife 332, 333, 334, 342, 346, 347 – flute 332, 333, 333⁰169 – lute 289, 291, 292, 327, 328, 330, 340 – pipe 338, 346 Musica getutscht 120, 120⁰176 (See also Virdung, Sebastian) Myrtle 31, 254, 255, 255⁰109, 298⁰64, 330, 362, 363 (See also Hadas) Ne'ilah 263, 351 (See also Day of Atonement) Neshamah Yeterah See Shabbat: additional soul Neṭilat Yadayim See Ritual hand washing New Moon 113, 116⁰158, 117, 204–210, 242, 401⁰13, 432 North French Miscellany 128, 150, 215 Oaks of Mamre See Mamre Officiator See Wedding: officiator Oracle tree 140, 153–157 (See also Tree of Life; Tree of Knowledge) Oral Law 71, 72, 251 (See also Torah) Pageant 281, 339, 341, 342, 345 (See also Domum deductio; Schembartlauf; Wedding: entourage; Wedding: procession) Palanquin 284, 285, 285⁰27, 298 Paradise 143⁰253, 155, 156, 345, 346 (See also Garden of Eden) Para-image 8, 113, 123 Paratext 7, 7⁰25, 18, 19, 47⁰89, 122, 189 Parturient mother 354, 376, 376⁰109, 377, 378⁰115, 378⁰116 Passover 142, 170, 182, 175, 185, 220, 242⁰71, 260, 308, 400⁰13, 403 (See also Pilgrimage festivals; Yakenhaz) – Haggadah [+plur. Haggadot] 175, 176, 190, 361, 400, 401, 408, 409 – Seder 144, 175, 176, 400, 400⁰13, 403 Patron 32, 40, 81, 256 – of the Nuremberg Miscellany 45, 47, 68, 73, 80, 87, 89, 93, 106, 107, 110, 148, 184, 289, 311, 396, 403, 419–437

518 

 Index

Pelican 197, 198 People of Israel 146, 162, 190, 210, 265, 336, 416 (See also Israelites) Pfersee 48–51, 86⁰45, 435, 437, 437⁰42, 437⁰44 (See also Augsburg; Kriegshaber) Pilgrimage festivals 185, 350, 397, 399, 401⁰13 Pillar 94, 284, 294 (See also Column; Yakhin and Bo'az) – bearing the universe 93, 111, 112 Pillow See Cushion Piyyuṭ [+plur. piyyuṭim] 19, 62, 215, 271, 331, 413, 424 – Adon Imnani 102 – Amar Adonai leYa'aqov 208, 412 – Av Yeda'akha miNo'ar 351, 352⁰12 – Ayelet Ahavim Matnat Sinai 413 – Az beYom Kippur 103 – Barukh Adonai Yom Yom 246, 428 – El Mitnase leKhol leRosh 118 – Ikhlu Mashmanim 271 – Ish Ḥasid Hayah 248, 249 – Mah Yafit uMah Na'amt 244, 245, 246 – Mah Yedidut Menuḥatekh 245, 246, 276 – Ma'oz Ẓur 267 – haMavdil Bein Qodesh leḤol 252, 263, 264, 266 – Odkha Ki Anafta Bi 216 – Om ke’Ishon Ninẓeret 413 – Ot Ze haḤodesh 117 – haRaḥaman Hu Yevarekh Avi haYeled ve’Imo 365 – Tikkanta Shabbat 380, 381 – Yom Shabbat Qodesh Hu 249 – Ẓur miSehlo Akhalnu 223 Portal See Gate Porto [in the Veneto] 373, 434⁰27 Prague Haggadah 169, 217, 232⁰34, 402 Prayer book 35, 97, 97⁰77, 101, 169 Prayer for Dew 208, 308 (See also Blessing for rain; Zodiac) Probiermusterbuch der – Goldschmiede 1512–76 31 Purim 190, 191, 218, 219–222, 268, 270 (See also Esther; Haman; Minor festivals; Mordechai)

Qaro, Joseph 105, 178, 244, 260 Quail 133⁰213, 246, 276 Ra’aban See haYarḥi, Abraham b. Nathan Ra’aven See Eli'ezer b. Nathan of Mainz Rabban Gamali’el 116⁰158, 225, 225⁰8 Raḥam 198 Raphael 148, 149, 149⁰269, 151 (See also Angel; Abraham: Heavenly guests) Rashbam See Samuel b. Meir Rashi See Solomon b. Isaac Rauchfass See Censer Rebecca [+Rebeckah] 296⁰61, 397, 398, 399, 405, 406, 407, 410 Recipient 44, 64, 68, 69, 70, 72, 87, 88, 89, 93, 125, 289, 396, 414, 419–437 Re’em 161, 161⁰321; 161⁰323 (See also Taḥash; Unicorn) Reformation [+post-Reformation] 22, 24, 28, 338, 346 Regensburg Pentateuch 352, 358 Regnum Teutonicum 79 Reliquary 255, 256, 258 Rema See Isserles, Moses Renaissance 22, 23, 24, 28, 239, 328, 333, 361, 395 Reẓe veHaḥaliẓenu 242 Righteous 111, 112, 112⁰146, 113, 119, 123, 155, 157, 183, 184, 248, 370, 427 (See also Feast of the Righteous; Ẓaddiq) – Abraham 120, 123, 152, 157 – Joshua 120 – Moses 120 – patriarchs 155, 156 Ring 213, 224, 225, 225⁰8, 226, 297 (See also Wedding: ring) Rite of passage 79, 279⁰1, 281, 282, 316, 339, 324, 349, 373, 419, 425 Ritual hand washing 173 Rosh See Asher b. Yehi’el Rosh Ḥodesh See New Moon Rosh haShanah 163, 163⁰331, 242⁰71 Sanctification of the New Moon See New Moon Samuel b. Meir (a.k.a. Rashbam) 214, 235 Sandaq See Circumcision: sandaq

Index 

Sarah 122, 125–135, 140, 142, 144, 148, 149, 157, 160, 161, 163, 422 (See also Abraham: hospitality of; Annunciation: to Sarah) Schembartlauf [+Schembartläufer] 341–348 Schocken Bible 404 Second Nuremberg Haggadah 291, 323, 324 Se'udat Miẓvah See Mandatory meal Shabbat 192, 223–266, 335, 360, 380, 381, 420, 422–423, 437 (See also Conclusion of Shabbat; Hollekreisch; Kiddush; New Moon) – additional soul 254, 265, 266 – lights 43, 43⁰74 – liturgy and hymns 43, 45, 45⁰81, 69⁰6, 170, 223, 230, 242, 243, 245, 246, 249, 276, 304, – meals and food 170, 171, 174, 177, 178, 228⁰23, 234, 235, 244, 245, 246, 248–250, 276 Shamir 139, 140 Shavu'ot 185, 220, 413 (See also Pilgrimage festivals) Sheva' Berakhot See Wedding: Seven Benedictions Shtadlan 44⁰80, 49⁰96 Sister to the Golden Haggadah 404 Sivlonot 227, 228, 295 (See also Wedding: gift) Snood See Hairnet Solomon 118, 173⁰28, 183, 201, 275, 284, 297, 398⁰3 (See also Shamir; Temple) Solomon b. Isaac (a.k.a. Rashi) 71, 71⁰10, 72, 92, 147, 148, 235, 285, 302, 303, 304, 339, 389, 390, 403, 408, 416 Spectacles See Eyeglasses Spice 251, 252, 254, 255, 359, 362, 363, 363⁰56 (See also Circumcision; Conclusion of Shabbat: spice box) Squirrel 198, 199, 399, 408, 409 Stag 399, 408, 409, 412, 413 (See also Gazelle; Hart) Star XI, 103, 117, 119, 193, 204, 260, 384, 385, 386, 387 – alluding to proliferation 292, 294, 325, 411 – idolatrous worship of 115, 326⁰146 Star of David See Magen David

 519

Steppach 51 Stork 134–135, 135⁰217 Stroklhäkker, Johannes See Probiermusterbuch der Goldschmiede 1512–76 Stubborn son 180; 181 Sukkot 182, 185, 220 (See also Pilgrimage festivals) Superstition 2, 29, 374, 375, 389, 415 (See also Amulet; Apotropaism; Fig sign; Magic) Swabia 48, 51, 80, 85, 89, 373, 434, 436 Swan 246, 275, 276 Sword 189, 190, 204, 210, 212, 215, 217, 274 Synagoga Iudaica 293, 319, 345, 356, 367, 371 (See also Buxtorf, Johannes, the Elder) Synagogue 225, 226, 290, 322 (See also Circumcision; Marriage: bridal portal; Marriage: bridegroom door; Wedding; Wedding: breaking the glass) – courtyard 209, 290, 295, 309, 316⁰109 – decorative art in 96, 97, 97⁰77, 97⁰79, 98, 98⁰83, 99, 116, 208, 308, 384 – liturgy and ceremonies 42, 251, 253⁰104 – structure 314, 315, 353⁰23 Tabernacle 92, 138, 161, 162 (See also Temple) Tablets of the Law 72, 137, 139 (See also Giving of the Law; Shamir) Taḥash 161, 162 (See also Re’em; Unicorn) Ṭallit 324, 325, 370, 370⁰84 Temple 91, 92, 137, 138, 162, 322, 424 (See also Mount Moriah; Shamir; Solomon; Tabernacle; Yakhin and Bo'az) – construction of 137–140, 200, 201 – destruction of 212, 247, 312, 313 – Menorah 269, 270 – messianic 157, 223, 424⁰9 – rededication of 218, 219, 268, 269 – ritual 109, 138⁰230, 185, 192⁰89, 206, 357, 378, 414⁰68, 415, 416, 418 Tent – of Abraham 119, 128, 136, 152, 153 – of Jacob 405, 410 – of Sarah 125, 126, 128, 129, 140

520 

 Index

Tetramorphos 74, 74⁰16, 76 (See also Archetypal animals; Ezekiel’s vision) Text and image 1–9, 59, 64, 100, 69, 114, 189, 218, 223, 250, 428, 430, 431, 432 Time-bound positive Miẓvot See Commandments: time-bound positive Miẓvot Title page 68, 69, 69⁰5, 90, 103, 164, 184, 188, 312, 404, 421 (See also Arch; Gate) Torah 66⁰11, 72, 109, 186, 265, 386, 422 (See also Written Law) – ark [+Arche (Ger.)] 98, 370⁰88 – crown of 110, 357 – liturgical reading of 39, 43, 357 – scroll 35, 47, 87, 369⁰82 – study of 86, 119, 184, 185, 247, 282, 386, 405 – sustaining the world 109, 119 Tosafists 243, 311 Trachtenbuch 299, 301, 307 (See also Amman, Jost; Weigel, Hans) Traustein See Marriage: stone Tree of Knowledge 154, 154⁰293, 155, 157, 162, 265, 266 (See also Oracle tree; Tree of Life) Tree of Life 155, 157, 162, 265 (See also Oracle tree; Tree of Knowledge) Tripartite Maḥzor (Oxford) 103 Tsene-rene 43, 150, 156 Ulman [+Ullman] See Ulma-Günzburg family Ulm 373, 434, 434⁰28, 436 Ulma-Günzburg family 50, 86, 86⁰45, 88, 433, 434, 435⁰38, 436, 436⁰42 – Eli'ezer Abraham Ulmo-Günzburg 373, 434⁰27 – Ephraim b. Ṭevele Ulman 49, 437 – Moses b. Abraham b. Simeon Günzburg 48, 48⁰94, 372, 437 – Simeon b. Eli'ezer Ulma 372, 373, 434⁰27, 435 – Simeon haLevi Günzburg 162, 312, 362, 419, 435 (See also Minhogim Bukh) – Ya'aqov b. Simeon Ulma 372 Ulmo See Ulma-Günzburg family Unicorn 158–163 (See also Re’em; Taḥash) Unleavened bread See Maẓẓah

Vatican Arba'ah Turim 73⁰14 Vine See Grape Virdung, Sebastian See Musica getutscht Virgin 163, 301, 306, 307, 308, 309 (See also Unicorn; Wise and Foolish Virgins) – bride 283, 288, 298, 300, 303, 304, 306, 307, 312, 316–320, 331, 339 – Mary 131, 160, 304, 306, 307, 314 Virgo 162, 163, 308, 308⁰87 Vitry, Simḥah b. Samuel of 225, 263, 290, 311, 337⁰188 Waldglas See Glass: forest Wedding 45, 180, 270, 279–348, 420, 422, 423, 435, 437 (See also Marriage; Marriage: contract) – breaking the glass XI, 309–313, 316, 318, 319, 320 (See also Angster; Bingen; Gutter; Kuttrolf; Marriage: stone) – canopy 281, 289–329, 340 – coronet 283, 285, 286, 288, 297, 299, 300, 303, 304, 327 (See also Wedding: crown; Wedding: garland) – crown 284, 297–316, 323, 327, 332, 339 (See also Wedding: coronet; Wedding: garland) – dance 279, 283, 317, 329–348 (See also Dance house) – entourage 279–289, 296⁰59, 328, 330, 432 (See also Domum deductio; Wedding: procession) – garland 296 (See also Wedding: coronet; Wedding: crown) – gift 35, 45, 227, 229, 241, 422, 423, 437 (See also Sivlonot) – mass 313 – officiator 289, 289⁰36, 291, 320, 321 – procession 296, 337, 339, 339⁰196, 340, 346 (See also Domum deductio; Wedding: entourage) – ring 279, 299, 303, 321–324 – Seven Benedictions 290, 290⁰38, 294, 311, 320, 423, 424, 425 – Shabbat Ḥattan 423 – Tanzhaus See Dance house Weigel, Hans 299–307 (See also Amman, Jost; Trachtenbuch)

Index 

Widow 283, 283⁰17, 290, 296⁰59, 312, 313, 316, 319 Wine 124, 125, 145, 172⁰27, 174, 178–185, 231–244 – at the circumcision 354, 363, 363⁰58 – at the Ḥanukkah feast 271–278 – for Havdalah 251–254, 262–266, 400 – in weddings 279, 290, 311, 312, 317, 318 Wise and Foolish Virgins 306, 307, 314 (See also Virgin; Virgo) Wolf 268, 332, 333, 340, 347 World to Come 155, 156, 250, 265 (See also Feast of the Righteous; Garden of Eden; Paradise) Worms 290, 309, 315, 319 Worms Maḥzor 101, 103, 103⁰106, 118, 308, 324 Wreath See Coronet Written Law 71, 72 (See also Oral Law; Torah) Wrocław Maḥzor 76 Ya'aleh veYavo’ 204, 205, 242 (See also Grace after Meals: temporal additions to) Ya'aqov haGozer 360, 360⁰46, 363⁰56, 369 Yahuda Haggadah 168, 291, 323, 324 Yakenhaz 400, 400⁰11, 401, 403, 404, 408, 409, 410 (See also Coclusion of Shabbat: Havdalah) Yakhin and Bo'az 91, 92, 97⁰79, 284 (See also Column; Pillar)

 521

haYarḥi, Abraham b. Nathan (a.k.a. Ra’aban) 214, 244, 362 Yiddish 39, 40, 41, 43, 43⁰75, 44, 156, 162, 208, 270, 295, 296, 354, 413⁰65, 419, 429, 435 – Yiddishism 42⁰71, 44⁰80, 49⁰96, 184, 185, 210, 354⁰29 Yizkor 48, 86 (See also Memorbuch) Yom Kippur See Day of Atonement Yuzpi [Shammash] (Jephthah Juzpa b. Naphtali) 296⁰59, 315, 378, 378⁰116, 379, 380, 381 Zack, Judah b. Nathan (a.k.a. Maharaz) 270, 271 Ẓaddiq 111, 112, 112⁰146, 123 (See also Righteous) Zalman of St. Goar 290 Zimmun See Grace after Meals: zimmun Zion 247, 248, 284, 297 (See also Jerusalem) Ẓiẓ See Coronet: of the High Priest Zodiac 116, 162, 208, 308, 362 Zoomorphism 18, 57, 59, 97, 165, 166, 168 (See also Anthropomorphism; Humanoid) Ẓvi (See also Gazelle; Hart; Stag) – given name 87, 88, 428 – Nation of Israel 88⁰52

Appendix

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