While travelling with a group of Pardes students to Istanbul, Turkey, we encountered a fascinating custom. As we stood in the synagogue about to begin the silent amidah prayer, people turned and looked at each other and gently waved. It was a gesture that lasted a second or two and then everyone continued with the service. I had never seen this custom before and was intrigued.
The students from the Pardes Institute for Jewish Studies were studying in preparation for leadership roles in Jewish communities of North America; most of them planning to be day school or experiential Jewish educators. We had come to Istanbul to teach in the Jewish school, to meet the youth leadership, to learn about modern Turkey and its ancient Jewish heritage, and most importantly to connect to the Jewish community. Perhaps more than any of the other customs and practices we encountered, the waving piqued our interest. The scene of this simple, silent gesture repeated itself wherever we prayed in Istanbul: The Etz Ahayim synagogue in Ortakoy where we were hosted for Shabbat, the Bet Yisrael synagogue in the residential area of Şişli, and the flagship Neve Shalom synagogue in the old Galata neighborhood. By this time, we too were silently waving before the amidah. When we crossed the Bosporus to Asia we found the same custom in Kadıkoy: the Hemdat Israel Synagogue founded in 1899 and the vibrant Bet El synagogue in Caddebostan. When we travelled to Edirne for the 2015 rededication of the Kal Kadosh ha-Gadol – or as it is known in Turkish: Buyuk Sinagogu, the grand synagogue that had lain in ruins and was beautifully restored – we once again encountered the custom. Back in the Pardes Beit Midrash in Jerusalem, as we gathered for the Minha service we furtively looked around and as our eyes met, we silently waved to each other before beginning the amida.
This is the tale of tracking this fascinating practice across continents and back through four centuries, in a quest for the custom’s hazy origins. Like an archaeological dig, I will begin with the top soil and proceed to excavate back in time.2
İstanbul
When asked, local Turkish Jews offered two explanations for the custom. First, they explained that the amidah is a serious journey; we strive to leave this earthly realm for a moment of spiritual communion with God. Who knows if we will return? We therefore turn to our fellow congregants and signal goodbye before embarking upon this venture.
I recalled that a similar idea appeared in hasidic lore. Rabbi Uri of Strelisk (d. 1826) was known for his ecstatic prayer. According to hasidic collective memory, every morning before beginning his prayers, Rabbi Uri said goodbye to his wife and children, lest his body expire because of the efforts of his devotional prayers.3 Alas, it is difficult to conjure up a realistic link between Rabbi Uri of Strelisk and the customs of the Turkish Jewish community, so I assumed that the traditions were unconnected. One thing for certain: I was now less inclined to bid my neighbors farewell. To be sure, I aspired to pray with heartfelt authenticity, but I had not thought of the experience as possibly my last…
The second explanation offered by our friends in the local Turkish Jewish community was less fatal. God is only interested in hearing our prayers, provided that our interpersonal relationships are exemplary. We therefore symbolically turn to fellow congregants, look into the eyes of those in our surroundings and acknowledge each other. At that moment we strive to connect, to make peace, to ask for forgiveness. It is only after that prelude that we turn to address God.
This too reminded me of a hasidic tradition. Rabbi Elimelekh of Leżajsk (1717-1787) was one of the central personalities in the formative period of Hasidism. He is credited with writing a Tefillah kodem tefillah, a Prayer Before Prayer, that includes the beseeching words:
[God,] put in our hearts, that we all see the good in our friends and not their faults. May we each speak with our peers in a straightforward manner that is desirable before You. And may no hatred, from one person towards another, rise, Heaven forefend.4 Alas, I am unaware of any link between the Prayer Before Prayer attributed to Rabbi Elimelekh of Leżajsk and the Turkish Jewish tradition. There was, of course, a salient difference between the similar themes: The Prayer Before Prayer suggested imploring God for assistance in repairing our interpersonal relationships; the Turkish custom saw peace as a prerequisite for turning to God. A more probable inspiration for the Turkish practice might have been a directive attributed to the Ari – the great Safed Kabbalist Rabbi Yitzhak Luria (1534-1572). According to the Ari, love of God is a lofty objective: it is difficult for humans to develop feelings for something so distant from our perception. The first stage in this journey is love of Israel. The Almighty can be found in each person, hence love of humans is a step towards love of God. This understanding translated into a practical instruction: Before beginning the prayer service, people should accept upon themselves the biblical commandment “And you should love your fellow as yourself” (Lev. 19:18).
Ari and the Prayer Before Prayer described a hierarchy similar to the Turkish custom, yet they did not mention anything about waving moments before the amidah. I sensed that the practice of Turkish Jewry was a unique custom. The explanations offered by our friends in Istanbul left us inspired, as they highlighted dimensions of our prayers that we had not considered in sharp relief: First, prayer is a journey whose final destination may be clouded in uncertainly. Second, we must seek to repair our relationships for we dare not commune with the Almighty while there is conflict between us and our fellows.
Considering our source-oriented Jewish tradition – a culture we celebrate at Pardes – we wondered whether we would have to suffice with oral testimonies, or perhaps we would be able to identify this custom and its reasons in earlier written sources…
Baghdad
We arrived back in Israel a few days before reading Parashat Beshalah. As fortune would have it, one of the commentators on that week’s Torah portion discussed the waving custom.5 The illustrious Rabbi Yosef Hayim of Baghdad (1834-1909) bequeathed a rich literary legacy, most famously the Ben Ish Hai. The structure of this work is distinct: a two-year study program that covers much of practical Jewish law. Each section opens with a short exposition which is linked to the weekly Torah portion. The exposition leads to a topic in Jewish law which is succinctly presented. Parshat Beshalah begins the discussion of the amidah, where Rabbi Yosef Hayim writes:
And the custom of the Spanish Jews when they stand to pray the amidah prayer – before the prayer they turn back a little way and they make a gesture with their hands to the people standing behind them and at their sides.6
Rabbi Yosef Hayim was meticulous in recording customs of Baghdad Jewry. In addition, he corresponded with colleagues in the Holy City to enquire about kabbalistic practices in Jerusalem and in Hebron. In this case, Rabbi Yosef Hayim identified the custom as the practice of sefaradim – Jews of Spanish origin. Despite the fact that the practice belonged to a group whose traditions Rabbi Yosef Hayim did not necessarily record, he offers an explanation:
And the reason for this is … to be similar to the angels. For it is their practice to accept the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven one from another, and they give permission one to another, in order to demonstrate the unity and the kinship that exists between them. As if to say: We are all as one. We agree with one thought and with one mind to accept the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven.
Why did the angels do this? Rabbi Yosef Hayim continues: “And through this the praise of the Holy One blessed be He, rises and is elevated when it is done out of unity and love.” Thus – according to Rabbi Yosef Hayim – heavenly conduct was the inspiration for the practice of Spanish Jews: Just as the angels approach the Almighty with unity by asking each other for permission, so too Spanish Jews ask each other for the right to approach God in prayer.
This approach is similar, but not identical, to the second explanation we heard in Turkey. In Istanbul we had not heard about angels and the emphasis had been friendship not unity. But both narratives focused on interpersonal relationships as a precursor to approaching God.
Rabbi Yosef Hayim continues with an indistinct reference to an alternative explanation:
And our great master R[abbi] N[atan] Shapira gave a reason for this custom according to sod [literally: “secret,” referring to Jewish esoteric tradition], and he praised [the practice]. And according to his reason, even if there is no other person next to him or behind him, he should also do this.
Ben Ish Hai is a work that was designed to be accessible; even when Rabbi Yosef Hayim discusses Kabbalah, he assumes a wide readership. References to Kabbala in Ben Ish Hai are often bland or succinct, perhaps so that uninitiated readers can skim over the passage, recognizing the kabbalistic angle, but not getting bogged down in a realm that is beyond their ken. At the same time, readers who are proficient in Jewish mystical tradition can delve into the text or explore the select citations that are listed. In this case, Rabbi Yosef Hayim notifies his readers that there is an esoteric explanation. Alas, the great Baghdadi scholar did not explain the approach, nor does he provide a citation that would allow the reader to locate the source.
Rabbi Yosef Hayim was a native of Baghdad. Apart from visiting the Land of Israel, he spent his entire life in the city of his birth. From the language of the passage it is apparent that the custom he was reporting was not practiced in local Baghdadi synagogues. How then, did he know about the custom of Spanish Jewry?
We cannot ascertain how Rabbi Yosef Hayim came to know about the waving custom, though a number of possibilities present themselves. He may have seen the custom during his 1869 pilgrimage to the Land of Israel, or he may have heard about the custom from a visitor to Baghdad, or he may have read about the custom in an earlier work. The writings of an Aleppo scholar, allow us to flesh out these three possibilities.
Aleppo and other places
Rabbi Avraham Shalom Hai Hamawi (1838-ca.1900) was born in Aleppo, but travelled extensively. His life was beset with loss of loved ones and poverty. Despite the hardships, Rabbi Hamawi succeeded in publishing a number of volumes. While his works mostly deal with prayer and Jewish law, they also abound with esoteric lore, including amulets, charms, cures, dream interpretation, and palmistry.
In two of his works, Rabbi Hamawi mentions the custom of waving. In the first work which deals with Sukkot, Rabbi Hamawi seems to be merely citing from an earlier work entitled Siah Yitshak which references the aforementioned Rabbi Natan Shapira, without adding any of his own information.7
I will presently return to Siah Yitshak, but let me cheekily point out that in one of his other books Rabbi Hamawi complains against people copying charms from his books: “Let me tell you another thing, that most of my very own books – a number of people copied them, and they were unable to understand anything from them, for they are all sealed.”8 Of course, the plagiarism about which Rabbi Hamawi complains is incomparable to citing another work faithfully. Despite bemoaning unauthorized copying, Rabbi Hamawi was generous with his esoteric knowledge. After complaining, he proceeds to share an amulet for improving business, before returning to the plagiarists: “And they copied it, and they did not understand it; [they were unable to discern] between their right and their left (for they thought they were wise). But out of love for you, my dear reader, I have revealed [it] to you. It should be for you alone, and not for others beside you.” Returning to the pre-amidah gesture, Rabbi Hamawi offers a fuller presentation of the custom in a work printed in 1878 that focuses on the month of Elul. He begins with a few important words of introduction: “That which is practiced in our land Aleppo and in most places.”9 Rabbi Hamawi seems to be reporting the custom from personal experience, suggesting that he saw the custom in Aleppo and elsewhere.
After recounting the practice, he continued, echoing the second explanation that we heard in Istanbul: Apparently the reason for this custom is to make peace one with another, like asking forgiveness one from another in order that everyone will be with love and kinship, as one person, so that the prayer will be accepted.
Rabbi Hamawi’s extensive travels are reflected in the approbations he received from rabbis in Jerusalem, Fez, Gibraltar, Hebron, Livorno, Marrakesh, Meknes, Pressburg, Rabat, Salonika, Sefrou, Izmir, Tunis, and other places. Most of Rabbi Hamawi’s works were printed in Livorno; two were printed in Izmir and one in Calcutta. Rabbi Hamawi also visited Sana’a and Baghdad. Rabbi Hamawi may be the missing link between Rabbi Yosef Hayim and the custom of Spanish Jewry. The Baghdadi scholar may have learned about the custom from the Aleppo scholar when the latter visited Baghdad, or he may have read about the custom in Rabbi Hamawi’s 1878 book. Alternatively, Rabbi Yosef Hayim may have seen the custom himself in 1869, when he travelled via Syria to the Land of Israel. Finally, Rabbi Yosef Hayim may have seen the custom in an earlier work, such as Siah Yitshak.
Izmir
Rabbi Hamawi records that waving before the amidah was a custom in Aleppo “and in most places.” Regrettably, he did not identify those places. Do we have any evidence that places the practice in Turkey?
Rabbi Hamawi visited Izmir, where he printed two works – one in Hebrew and one in Ladino.10 The Hebrew volume, as well as another two of his works printed in Livorno in 1874 and in 1878, carried approbations from the prolific Rabbi Hayim Palache of Izmir (1787-1868).11 Might Rabbi Hamawi have seen the waving practice during his sojourn in Izmir? Examining Rabbi Palache’s writings reveals an earlier reference to the custom in a location closer to where we saw the practice. In his Kaf Ha-hayim, Rabbi Palache acknowledges the custom: “Regarding the practice that before standing to pray we[?] make a movement with the hands, this [person] to that [person] and this [person] to that [person].”12 Rabbi Palache references Siah Yitshak who cited Rabbi Natan Shapira, though he did not detail what they said. He then humbly adds his own explanation for the custom:
For it is because we say [just before amidah in the morning prayer]: “Together [those who crossed the Reed Sea] all praised and crowned [God]” and a person must show himself in each and every detail as if he went out from Egypt and from the Splitting of the Reed Sea, and our intent is that we, too, are now – all of us together – coming to accept the yoke of His sovereignty. … And therefore we make a movement with the hands and call one to another, as if to say that we are all coming with one heart to pray before God and to accept His Divinity, may He be blessed. And even though we are coming to pray silently we rouse one another, to indicate that we are all praying with one heart, “with one language and the same words” [Gen. 11:1] to the only and singular God.
Rabbi Palache links the gesture to the Exodus: just as there was unity amongst the Israelites after the miraculous Exodus, so too we enter the realm of prayer with a simple act that reflects a declaration of unity. The wave is timed to correlate with the prayer that recounts the Israelites’ praise after they crossed the Reed Sea. But this explanation raises a question. If the gesture is linked to the pre-amidah theme of morning prayers, should it be practiced before the amidah of other services where there is no mention of the Splitting of the Sea immediately prior to the amidah? In Istanbul we saw congregants wave at each service, yet according to Rabbi Palache’s explanation the gesture was only relevant to the morning service?
Rabbi Palache addressed this question by noting that the evening and afternoon prayers both have lines that bespeak unity. The evening prayer refers to the Splitting of the Sea, albeit not in the passage immediately preceding the amidah. The afternoon amidah is preceded by Ashrei where supplicants say: “And all creatures shall bless… And we will bless God…” (Psalms 145:21, 115:18). These verses suggest speaking as one in praise of the Almighty. For various reasons, the order of pre-amidah prayers differs from service to service. Notwithstanding these differences, the focus on unity in prayer is appropriate for the evening and afternoon prayers. Hence, people wave at all three services. Rabbi Palache did not relate to Musaf, though in Istanbul we saw people gesturing before that prayer as well.
Rabbi Palache signs off with a brief acknowledgement of a third possible explanation – the same explanation found in Rabbi Hamawi’s exposition: supplicants are mimicking the angels who take leave from each other before accepting the yoke of Heaven. Thus we can locate the custom in Izmir in the mid-nineteenth century, some 150 years before we learned of the practice in Istanbul.
Livorno
We saw that both Rabbi Hamawi and Rabbi Palache mentioned a work by the title of Siah Yitshak. Neither writer revealed the name of the author, and the title Siah Yitshak had been used by various writers. Fortunately, Rabbi Palache identified the work as Siah Yitshak on tractate Hagigah with an addendum entitled Tefillat Kol Peh. Only one Siah Yitshak answers these criteria: the work of the Italian Rabbi Isac Nunes Vias, who died sometime before December 1788.13
We do not know much about Rabbi Nunes Vias. He hailed from a Livorno rabbinic family of Marrano extraction. His literary legacy rests on his Siah Yitshak series, which was planned for three volumes; each volume being a commentary on a different talmudic tractate. The first volume was on Yoma, the second on Hagigah, and the third on Shevu‘ot – the title “Siah” forming an acronym for the three tractates. The Yoma volume was published in 1766; the Hagigah volume appears to have been published in 1788; volume three on Shevu‘ot was never published.
Besides the Hagigah commentary, volume two also contains an addendum entitled Kuntres Tefillat Kol Peh. This section was excerpted from the manuscript of Rabbi Nunes Vias’ commentary on Shulhan ‘Arukh entitled Beit Yitshak. This manuscript was never published and its whereabouts is not recorded. In this work, Rabbi Nunes Vias notes the practice, but begins by stating: “That which the Jews in the land of Ishmael have the custom.”14 Livornian Rabbi Nunes Vias was clearly not describing a local practice. What was he referring to when he used the phrase “the land of Ishmael”? Presumably, Rabbi Nunes Vias was referring to the Ottoman Empire.
Rabbi Nunes Vias’ description of the practice is similar to the other reports. Regarding the reason for the practice, Rabbi Nunes Vias simply referred the reader to the esoteric explanation which Rabbi Natan Shapira wrote in his annotations to the Ari’s kavanot (mystical intentions). Rabbi Nunes Vias added: “And he” – referring to Rabbi Natan Shapira – “concluded that the custom of Israel is Torah. See there.” All the printed references that we have seen until this point came from authorities who were active in the nineteenth century; Siah Yitshak identified the practice in the previous century. Even though Rabbi Nunes Vias did not personally see the custom, his report is significant because it carries the practice back to the eighteenth century.
Rabbi Natan Shapira
In my quest to dig deeper, arrows were directing me towards Rabbi Natan Shapira. Locating Rabbi Natan Shapira’s explanation, however, was not a simple task.
Rabbi Natan Shapira was a Kabbalist in Jerusalem where he was served as the rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in the Holy City. In 1655 he was sent by the Jerusalem community to Italy, where he spent his final years. In 1662, Rabbi Natan Shapira died in Reggio. Rabbi Natan Shapira was an important figure in the transmission and transcription of the Ari’s kabbalistic writings.15 In tracking down Rabbi Natan Shapira’s explanation I sought the assistance of Yosef Avivi, the foremost expert on manuscripts associated with the Ari’s school of mysticism. After consultation it became apparent that two avenues existed for locating Rabbi Natan Shapira’s writing. To my surprise both of them bore fruit. But first, a word of introduction about writings from the Ari’s school. The Ari bequeathed a rich mystical legacy, though he did not write down his lofty ideas. The lot fell to his disciples, and in particular to Rabbi Hayim Vital (1542-1620), who took notes and expended considerable effort to preserve his teacher’s legacy. Rabbi Hayim Vital did not publish the writings, but the manuscripts were copied and studied in centres of Jewish mysticism throughout the world.
The Ari’s teachings were organized into kavanot, mystical intentions that were to accompany prayers and the fulfilment of other commandments. In the seventeenth century, Rabbi Meir Poppers (1624-1662) edited these kavanot in what would become the most circulated version of the Ari’s teachings. Rabbi Poppers used titles that Rabbi Hayim Vital had coined: Derekh Ets Hahayim, Peri Ets Ha-hayim, and Nof Ets Ha-hayim. The raw materials for Rabbi Poppers’ works were manuscripts of Rabbi Hayim Vital’s writings. However, Rabbi Poppers’ organization and editing efforts were significant, to the extent that the product was truly a new work.16
Contemporaneously, Rabbi Natan Shapira undertook a similar task. He called one of his most significant works by the title Meorot Natan – a work that remained in manuscript form and was never published in toto. Nonetheless, mystics who published the Ari’s kavanot, had access to Meorot Natan manuscripts and included sections from Rabbi Natan Shapira’s mystical writings. The challenge that lay before me was to search Rabbi Natan Shapira’s literary legacy – in print and in manuscript – for evidence of the waving custom. While I knew that there was scant chance I would understand his kabbalistic explanation, I still felt I should try to track down the source.
Dubrowna
Parts of Meorot natan were published in Korzec in 1782 under the title Peri Ets Hayim – the very title that Rabbi Meir Poppers had taken from Rabbi Hayim Vital. A second edition of this work was published four years later in 1786. Both of these volumes make no mention of the waving custom. A further edition of Peri Ets Hayim was published in Dubrowna in 1804. The Dubrowna 1804 volume is a montage of Rabbi Meir Popper’s Peri Ets Hayim and Rabbi Natan Shapira’s Meorot Natan that had been published under the title Peri Ets Hayim. In this volume the custom is recorded within the text:
And this is that which appears, according to my humble opinion, that because of this all the Jews who live in the land of Ishmael have the practice as they stand to pray the amidah, they turn their faces to [look] behind them and they make a gesture with their hands to the people standing behind them, that they should go in front of them out of respect. But the custom of Israel is considered Torah, for the early pietists had this practice to do thus to the Shekhina that stands behind the ze‘ir anpin [literally “small face” referring to one aspect of God’s revealed presence] to bring it with the ze‘ir anpin face to face. And the custom of their forebears remains in their hands and they know not the true reason that is mentioned above. And let truth indicate its path.17
I do not presume to understand the kabbalistic explanation described here, but there is room to offer observations and tentative conclusions, and to acknowledge outstanding questions.
First – regarding the volume: This was a surprising discovery as the Dubrowna 1804 Peri Ets Hayim was thought to be a comprised of the previously published Peri Ets Hayim volumes.18 Mention of this custom did not appear in the previous editions, meaning that the 1804 volume also grafted material from other sources. What were the sources for the Dubrowna edition?
Second – regarding the custom and its explanation: The author did not have firsthand experience of the practice; it was a custom of “all the Jews who live in the land of Ishmael.” In the eyes of the author, it was clear that the custom was a theurgic practice rooted in kabbalistic tradition. The author, however, was well-aware that those people who were performing the gesture, were not necessarily aware of its origins and significance in mystical lore. The practitioners, however, had developed their own understanding of the practice that focused on interpersonal relationships. The author was not particularly critical of this development, for “the custom of Israel is considered Torah.”
Third – regarding the identity of the author whose “humble opinion” is cited: The author was clearly not from “the land of Ishmael,” but his identity was not revealed. Was this from the pen of Rabbi Natan Shapira, or perhaps from a scholar in Dubrowna? With that question, I turned to extant manuscripts.
Italy
Meorot Natan was never published but fortunately, manuscripts have survived. The best witness is a seventeenth century manuscript written in Italian script and held in the Bodleian Library of the University of Oxford.19 To view this source I had two options: I could travel to England or go deep into the bowels of the National Library of Israel, to the famed Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts – an extraordinary Zionist enterprise aimed at collecting copies of all extant Hebrew manuscripts, and the reason why many researchers come to Jerusalem. After considerable time poring over the microfilm of the manuscript, you can imagine my joy at finding the very passage – with a few changes – that had been printed in the Dubrowna 1804 Peri Ets Hayim. The changes were generally minor, suggesting that the Dubrowna printers used a Meorot Natan manuscript when they prepared their 1804 Peri Ets Hayim. Two connected points bear emphasis. First, the passage begins with a parenthesis indicating that this is supplementary addition to the text. Second, the second word is שנלעד”ן the final letter nun indicating the name Natan – one of the standard markers employed by Rabbi Natan Shapira to notify readers that the following words are his addition. Thus the mystery of the informant’s identity was solved.
More importantly, I had tracked the practice back a further century. This made the custom we saw in Istanbul at least four hundred years old. Furthermore, the seventeenth century source claimed that the custom was a mystical practice shrouded in esoteric lore. For that reason, Rabbi Yosef Hayim of Baghdad had noted that according to Rabbi Natan Shapira’s reason there was no need for the presence of others in order to justify the preamidah wave. This suggested that in its oldest form, the custom may have had nothing to do with unity, friendship, or interpersonal relationships. However, already in the seventeenth century, people were offering more accessible explanations like the ones we heard in Istanbul.
To the extent that this is a plausible account, then we have a fascinating evolution of a ritual practice. A kabbalistic custom that is preserved and survives the ages, but is reframed so that it makes sense to those who are not fluent in Kabbalah. Rabbi Natan Shapira was clearly not the innovator of the practice. He merely reported its existence and advocated retaining the custom. This leaves us with an unsolved mystery: Can we identify an earlier source for this captivating custom? Alas, the trail – at least for the time being – has gone cold …
Endnotes
1 My thanks to Joel Wolowelsky, Murat and Luna Bildirici, Pardes and to the teams of Pardes students who travelled with me to Turkey, and to all our dear friends in the Istanbul Jewish community. I am indebted to Yosef Avivi for his assistance and encouragement. As I researched this paper, I documented the journey in a series of podcasts that can be accessed at http://elmad.pardes.org/ topic/the-maggid-of-melbourne-speaks.
2 I had an opportunity to consider this custom in a different context, see Levi Cooper, Relics for the Present, vol. 1 (New Milford, 2012), 110-112. The present study differs in that this is an attempt to track the source of this custom, rather than recall the practice when considering the contemporary significance of the Talmud.
3 Levi Cooper, “Effective community prayers,” The Jerusalem Post, April 21, 2006, magazine, 33, www.jpost.com/ Jewish-World/Judaism/World-of-the- Sages-Effective-community-prayers.
4 Tehillim:… Mishpat tsedek… (Breslau?, 1830-1831), 16-17.
5 Since 2006, my community in Zur Hadassa – Kehillat HaTzur VeHaTzohar – selects a different biblical commentator each year, and we gather together each Shabbat to study the writings of that commentator. In 2015/16 we chose the Ben Ish Hai, even though – strictly speaking – this is a work of Jewish law rather than biblical commentary. Rabbi Zvi Hirschfield also brought this passage to my attention.
6 Ben Ish Hai (Jerusalem, 1898), I Beshalah 2.
7 Beit Simha (Jerusalem, 1961), 83, sec. 5.
8 Ha-’ah Nafsheinu (Izmir, 1870), 24a, sec. 5, para. 3.
9 Beit El (Livorno, 1878), 123a.
10 Ha-’ah nafsheinu (Izmir, 1870); Zekher ‘asa (Izmir, 1877).
11 Davak Mei-’ah (Livorno, 1874); Beit el (Livorno, 1878).
12 Kaf Ha-hayim (Salonika, 1859), 69a, sec. 15:1.
13 Siah Yitshak:… Hagigah… (Livorno, 1788?).
14 Ibid., 60c.
15 Yosef Avivi, Kabbalat Ha-’ari (Jerusalem, 2008), 2:637-656, 701-711, 892, 936.
16 Ibid., 2:637-656, 891-892, 934.
17 Peri Ets Hayim (Dubrowna, 1804), 50c-d.
18 Yosef Avivi, “Kitvei rabbi Hayim Vital be-kabbalat ha-ari,” Moriya 10:7-8 (1981): 84-89.
19 Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Opp. 115; National Library of Israel, F18444.
Levi Cooper teaches at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies and is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah. He is a Kreitman post-doctoral fellow at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Rabbi Dr. Cooper is Contributing Editor to Jewish Educational Leadership.