Skip to navigation – Site map

HomeNuméros8A Question of Competition? How to...

A Question of Competition? How to Deal with Inner-Jewish Diversity in Cities of the Ottoman Empire at the Turn of the 16th Century

Susanne Härtel

Abstracts

The starting point of this essay lies in current discussions about Jewish diversity and unity. It focuses on the Jewish population in several cities of the Ottoman Empire around 1500. At that time, the local Greek Jewish (Romaniot) population saw itself confronted with thousands of Iberian Jewish (Sephardic) refugees. An understanding of the situation as one of competition for authority makes it possible to ask about the strategies the Romaniot rabbi Elijah Mizraḥi pursued as reflected in some of his legal opinions. I argue that it was in Mizraḥi’s interest to overcome competition within the heterogeneous Jewish population, through either cooperation, concession, integration, or marginalisation. An analysis of his writings thus provides an insight into context-specific contemporary constructions of Jewish unity.

Top of page

Full text

  • 1 A previous version of this essay was presented at the 13th Conference of the Working Group “Early M (...)
  • 2 A frequent reference point is the collective volume edited by David Biale, including its preface: D (...)
  • 3 An argument for the emergence of a distinct Sephardic culture at the beginning of the early modern (...)
  • 4 M. Goodman, “Introduction…”, p. 1. See idem, A History of Judaism, especially pp. XXIV–XXV. A simil (...)

1The fact that there are very different groups within Judaism – as in other religious communities – is not surprising1. In scholarship, it has become more and more customary to refer to diverse Jewish cultures, Jewries, or even Judaisms2. Special attention has been given to the early modern centuries as the time period in which distinct cultural entities started to take shape that are still known today as, for example, Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews, i.e., Jews of Central European and Iberian descent3. Unlike academic scholarship, however, historical actors have often referred to Judaism as one religious system comprising a considerable degree of diversity. As Martin Goodman states: “Some contemporary scholars have referred to these varieties as separate Judaisms, but the Jews themselves have rarely done so, preferring instead in general to treat Judaism as a single system – albeit one containing considerable diversity […]”4. This essay aims to follow Goodman’s line of thinking and to shift the focus from the observation of Jewish diversity to the question of how individual Jews actually dealt with differences within their communities and eventually made the case for Jewish unity – a unity that was neither given nor self-evident, but pursued for a range of different reasons.

  • 5 For a recent overview of Jewish migration to the Ottoman Empire until the end of the 16th century a (...)
  • 6 Cf. D. Zsom, “The Return of the Conversos…”. Still useful with regard to the general experience of (...)
  • 7 Concerning demographic developments in the 17th century of which immigrants from the Iberian Penins (...)
  • 8 See J. R. Hacker, “Pride and Depression…”.

2The focus will be on a particular historical setting, a very specific historical moment, when a great many Jews found themselves confronted with a diversity of experiences within their communities. I will concentrate on the decades around the turn of the 16th century and on cities in the Ottoman Empire, whose Jewish populations grew considerably in just a few years due to the arrival of thousands of Iberian refugees. At that time, Jews also migrated from other parts of Europe, among them France and Germany, into the territories of the Sultan, some of which had only recently been conquered by the Ottomans. Nonetheless, at the latest by the Iberian expulsions of 1492–1498, the Jews from the Peninsula constituted by far the largest Jewish migrant group5. Conversos emigrating from Iberia could also hope to return to Judaism after reaching the Ottoman Empire6. The flux of Iberian immigrants continued in this way during the 16th century and even in later times7. They were the proud heirs of a centuries-old Jewish community, albeit in an often destitute and precarious position8.

  • 9 For insight into the history and culture of Greek Jews, see N. de Lange, “Hebrews, Greeks or Romans (...)
  • 10 The resettlement policy was known as sürgün. In the aftermath of the conquests, the Ottoman authori (...)

3At their new places of residence, the Spanish and Portuguese refugees were confronted with a local, predominantly Greek-speaking or Greek Jewish population9. These Romaniot congregations were themselves not particularly stable or consolidated. After the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople and in the course of Sultan Mehmed II’s population policy, resettlements had taken place on a large scale. In order to rebuild the desolated imperial city and transform it into an Ottoman capital, large population groups had been forcibly relocated on the Bosporus. Therefore, among the Jewish subjects of Istanbul and perhaps of a few other major urban centres, there were descendants of Jewish families from various parts of the Balkans and Asia Minor10. These Romaniot Jews were now going to be joined by their co-religionists from the Iberian Peninsula.

  • 11 Based on older studies, Minna Rozen assumes that in the 1530s more than half of Istanbul’s Jews wer (...)
  • 12 Cf. M. A. Epstein, The Ottoman Jewish Communities…, especially pp. 21–23 and 54–55; H. Gerber, “The (...)
  • 13 Cf. J. R. Hacker, The Jewish Community of Salonica…, especially pp. 62–98 and 161–220, and H. W. Lo (...)

4It is hardly possible to make precise statements about Jewish population numbers and the proportions of the various Jewish groups in relation to each other. Emigration figures to the Ottoman Empire continue to be highly controversial, relying in the main on an interpretation of different Ottoman capital tax registers. For example, whereas some scholars have estimated for Istanbul (Constantinople) that in the 1530s more than half of the city’s Jews were of Spanish or Portuguese origin, others tend to assess the Iberian share as lower, also referring to the insufficient documentation before the end of the 16th century. As the Ottoman capital functioned as a place of transit for many arriving migrants, population fluctuations must be taken into account as well11. In other localities, such as Edirne (Adrianople), the remaining local Greek-speaking Jews appear to have been so few that the Iberian refugees quickly outnumbered their co-religionists12. In a city like Salonica, again, the immigrants from the Peninsula apparently encountered an urban area with scarcely any pre-existing Jewish communal structures, since the city’s former Romaniot population had been transferred to Istanbul by the Ottomans in order to re-populate the newly conquered capital13. From what has been said, it is evident that at the turn of the 16thcentury the local Greek-speaking Jewish communities of the Ottoman Empire saw themselves confronted with an Iberian group of co-religionists of considerable size. Even if we do not know the exact numbers of Spanish and Portuguese refugees who reached the realm of the Sultan and must take into account changing group constellations in different areas, the events very probably had a significant impact on Jewish life in the region.

5For a contemporary insight into actual concrete realities as they unfolded, I have chosen to explore the perspective of the Romaniot scholar Rabbi Elijah Mizraḥi (Reʾem; c. 1450–1526). He can be considered Istanbul’s leading rabbi at the time the Iberian immigration into the Ottoman Empire was approaching a first peak. The study is based on Mizraḥi’s legal opinions in the form of selected answers to queries that reached the rabbinic scholar from within the capital but also from further away – as will be explained in more detail below. Rabbi Mizraḥi represents a prominent historical actor whose deliberations and decisions enable us to learn about possible strategies that Jews sought to pursue when faced with differences and the resulting conflicts within the Jewish communities. As a rabbinic scholar and community leader, Mizraḥi did not act in an intellectual vacuum or in social isolation, but had to assert his position in the scholarly arena. On the one hand, he was approached by fellow rabbis or judges who sent their legal questions to him for advice. On the other, he himself had to keep an eye on his rabbinic colleagues in the legal field, whose numbers clearly were mounting with the arrival of Iberian scholars among the multitude of refugees during that period.

  • 14 Simmel’s remarks on competition on which my approach in the present essay draws are part of his cha (...)
  • 15 Cf. Simmel, Conflict, especially pp. 67–71. Simmel elaborates there on two sociological types which (...)

6The situation Rabbi Mizraḥi found himself in can adequately be described as one of competition. The intellectual and political elites of the various Jewish groups vied, to quote the sociologist Georg Simmel, one of the classic references in the field, for “the same prize”, which was not automatically in the hands of any one of the parties involved: they competed for authority, recognition, and interpretive power within the heterogeneous Jewish population14. However, as Simmel also observed, a competitive struggle will often be limited by the very interests of the groups concerned15. In the specific case of Mizraḥi, the better argument in itself would not have necessarily helped the scholar to win the competition if he did not succeed in likewise gaining the favour of the broader Jewish population as a whole. What he was striving for, in the end, was to achieve a certain level of unity among the Jewish population.

7In the following, I argue that Mizraḥi’s goal was actually to overcome competition between him and other rabbinic scholars as well as the differing Jewish groups they represented. After a short introduction dealing with the Romaniot scholar and his oeuvre, I endeavour – through analysis of a number of his legal opinions – to illuminate four different strategies the rabbinic scholar apparently chose to pursue in order to achieve his goal. It is against the background of particular constellations and contexts that I seek to elaborate Mizraḥi’s motives behind his legal reasoning. In closing, I reflect on the concept of competition and its contribution in helping to better understand how diversity is concretely dealt with within Judaism.

Elijah Mizraḥi: Person, Oeuvre, and Selection of Sources

  • 16 For general information, here and in the following, cf. J. R. Hacker, “Mizraḥi, Elijah”. A still va (...)
  • 17 Cf. J. R. Hacker, “The ‘Chief Rabbinate’…”, especially pp. 251–254. Already by the late 16th centur (...)
  • 18 Cf. J. R. Hacker, “Jewish Autonomy…”. According to Joseph Hacker, Jewish communities found a loopho (...)
  • 19 For illuminating insights into questions of rabbinic leadership in medieval and early modern times, (...)
  • 20 Cf. Hacker, “Pride and Depression…”.

8Mizraḥi was born in the mid-15th century in Constantinople of Romaniot descent16. As far as we know, he spent most of his life in his native city, where he received his education in rabbinic as well as general studies. Early on, he was able to gather a circle of students around him and headed his own school. Around the turn of the century, Rabbi Mizraḥi was considered the leading authority among the Greek Jews in the capital and he continued to fulfil important judicial functions until his death in 1526. Whereas older scholarship believed, in analogy to the situation in the 19th century, that he held the office of a chief rabbi, today it is assumed that Mizraḥi’s direct influence was limited to Istanbul and its immediate surroundings17. This did not prevent Jewish congregations located further away from also turning to him for consultation and advice. Mizraḥi’s position as leading rabbi was not the result of an official appointment by the Sultan or by the Jewish congregations, although he might have occasionally represented the Jews vis-à-vis the Ottoman authorities and surely had an interest in a broad interpretation of Jewish autonomy18. The authority of Mizraḥi was and could not have been undisputed. On the contrary, one might say that there was a continued dynamic ongoing competition for authority. This competitive struggle resembled rabbinic leadership through the ages19. However, it increased in societies that were confronted with so many changes and challenges like the Romaniot Jewish communities, themselves recently conquered, uprooted, and now faced with substantial numbers of Iberian refugees. And these refugees even arrived with a sense of their own superiority vis-à-vis their co-religionists20.

  • 21 Saperstein, Leadership and Conflict, p. 6; see also cf. J. R. Berkovitz, Law’s Dominion…, especiall (...)

9Mizraḥi is known not only as a community leader but also as a scholar. He wrote on secular subjects such as mathematics as well as on religious matters. Up to the present, the bulk of his scholarly fame rests upon a super-commentary to Rashi’s commentary on the Torah. In the present essay, I concentrate only on one specific part of Mizraḥi’s writings, namely his legal opinions, his sheʾelot u-teshuvot, “questions and answers”. In response to a current query or a contemporary conflict, the rabbinic scholar made a legal decision, often preceded by detailed deliberations. As the questions that stimulated the texts usually arose from actual occurrences and the answers provided were intended to change behaviours or serve as legal precedents in the future, these legal writings – in scholarly literature, often referred to as responsa – reflect individual and societal realities more directly than many other literary genres. They “provide a window onto rabbinic leadership in action”21 and shall enable us to look at the different strategies Mizraḥi pursued when his community saw itself confronted with a high influx of Iberian Jews over the course of several decades conjoint with a considerable potential for conflict.

  • 22 Cf. M. J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book…, p. 499. To date only a traditional edition is (...)
  • 23 Cf. M. J. Heller, The Seventeenth Century Hebrew Book…, p. 639. Also in this case, only a tradition (...)
  • 24 Exchanges between different Jewish groups, especially on the scholarly level, had to varying degree (...)

10However, there are also some important caveats about the interpretation of legal opinions. First, even though one can, to an appreciable extent, determine what was the scholar’s decision, it is impossible to ascertain, based solely on the document, whether his decision was eventually complied with in practice and adopted by a Jewish court. In the case of Mizraḥi, the sheer fact that his legal opinions were published seems to point to a lasting recognition of his authority in the long run: some of the texts appeared in print in Istanbul already in the years 1559–1561, some thirty years after the scholar’s death22. Nearly a century later, in 1647, another collection of Mizraḥi’s legal opinions was published in Venice23. Second, queries and answers were in most cases revised before their publication, omitting the details of the case under negotiation, and inter alia, the names of the persons involved, or sometimes even the location of the event. Generally, rabbinic texts are complex in their argumentation. They can easily extend to a considerable length in their review of possible legal precedents to the controversial subject. These formal features, of course, did not only characterise Romaniot Jews at this time but were typical of contemporary rabbinic thinking and argumentation more generally24. In any case, the insights provided us into the years around 1500 by an analysis of Mizraḥi’s legal opinions are already intellectually mediated: Romaniot as well as Iberian or Central European scholars moved within one and the same rabbinic discourse, in which they followed different traditions and argued for their respective positions. In the following, the focus will be on the perspective of the Romaniot Mizraḥi and his strategies as a legal scholar and respected leading rabbi.

An Analysis of Mizraḥi’s Legal Opinions and His Goal of Overcoming Competition

  • 25 The two collections comprise together 140 responsa, but only 110 of them are from Mizraḥi. Several (...)

11In the majority of the 110 legal opinions by Mizraḥi available to us in two printed collections, one will look in vain for any manifestation of differences between Jewish communities in the form of open group conflicts25. This finding is not surprising, if one considers that it cannot have been in the interest of the capital’s leading rabbi to unnecessarily aggravate conflicts or affront his opponents through his judgements. In view of the ongoing steady arrival of refugees and continuous competition for authority among the Jewish population, Mizraḥi’s goal must have been to gain the favour of a large number of his co-religionists and, as I argue, to overcome competition amongst them as far as possible.

  • 26 Concerning the complex relationship between Jewish law and tradition, cf. M. D. Herr et al., “Minha (...)

12In the following, four exemplary antagonistic constellations will be presented. In the first two cases, conflicts on which Mizraḥi was consulted were connected with or had arisen from the existence of different Jewish customs (minhagim), i.e., different traditions which guided Jewish life in various communities and in diverse places, but usually did not acquire the binding status of Jewish law (halakhah)26. In the last two cases, the questions addressed concerned more generally actions and measures undertaken within a local Jewish population about which different groups espoused different views. I will not go into every detail of the texts’ legal reasoning, but it is my aim to elaborate and analyse the overall strategies undertaken by Mizraḥi when he was faced with particular controversial issues among the heterogeneous Jewish population of his day. In doing so, four different strategies come to the fore which the legal scholar pursued in order to overcome competition: strategies of cooperation, concession, integration, and marginalisation.

(1) The Strategy of Overcoming Competition through Cooperation

  • 27 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b–14b. Cf. J. Friedmann, Elijah Mizrachi…, pp. (...)
  • 28 Cf. the literature on Edirne cited above in fn. 12. All the titles listed provide only scant inform (...)

13The first case to be considered concerned the Jewish population of Edirne27. The city had already been home to a Jewish community under Byzantine and later Ottoman rule. After the conquest of Constantinople in 1453, however, a great many of Edirne’s Jews were compelled to move to the recently conquered nearby new capital in order to repopulate it. Edirne probably lost the majority of its Greek-speaking Jewish community at that time, even though, at the turn of the 16th century, Mizraḥi was approached by the city’s remaining Romaniot Jews who saw themselves confronted with a growing number of Iberian refugees28. It would appear as though the Iberian newcomers, in the legal opinion at hand referred to as Sephardim (sefardim), quickly started to establish their own congregations. To what extent a supra-communal structure existed that would have included Edirne’s entire Jewish population remains an open question. Attempts to reach arrangements between the different groups seem to have been rather difficult, as the case in question demonstrates.

  • 29 For the legal and customary background, cf. H. J. Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim…, pp. 199–204, (...)
  • 30 With reference to 16th century Morocco, cf. J. S. Gerber, Jewish Society in Fez…, pp. 82 and 107, a (...)
  • 31 Jacob Barnai in particular emphasises the intermingling of customary and economic aspects; cf. J. B (...)
  • 32 Concerning the situation in Istanbul, with a concentration on the 18th century and later times, cf. (...)

14What was at issue? The dispute Mizraḥi was faced with revolved around the organization of ritual slaughter (sheḥiṭah). As Jewish customs differed with regard to the inspection of the slaughtered animal and the processing of its meat, matters of slaughter were often discussed in those years29. These differences in tradition were apparently the cause of conflict in Edirne as well, as in other places where different Jewish groups adhered to their respective customs30. Economic considerations also came into play: whoever possessed the right to slaughter enjoyed considerable financial advantages31. Finally, the butchery sector was highly regulated by the Ottoman authorities, who, amongst other things, stipulated the quantities and kinds of animals that could be slaughtered, tried to limit slaughtering to certain slaughterhouses and craftsmen, and were eager to control prices32. Even if Jewish sources did not always explicitly reflect on these measures, the arrangements determined the scope of action accorded the communities and their butchers – and held considerable potential for conflict. Thus, in Edirne, local Romaniot Jews and immigrant Sephardic Jews had apparently not managed to organise the urban meat supply in a way that would have suited them both. The situation is described in the beginning of the legal opinion:

  • 33 E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b:
    וששאלתם על אודות הטבח שהיה ממונה מקהל אנשי רומניא (...)

And you asked about the butcher who was appointed by the congregation of the people of Romania (anshei Romaniʾa) several years ago, and he was considered by them to be a worthy person (adam kasher) in all of his doings. And a little later came the Sephardim from the expulsion from Spain (ha-sefardim mi-gerush Sefarad), and they saw that he supplied the people of Romania with meat according to their wishes, as he had been appointed by them. But he did not supply them [= the Sephardim] [with meat] at all. They were very angry and tried by all means to depose him from his office in order to appoint someone of their own group who would supply them according to their wishes. And when this did not work, they tried to find witnesses among their people who would prove him unfit in all possible ways so that they could install someone else from amongst their people33.

  • 34 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b.

15As we read, Edirne’s Greek and Iberian Jews were not able to agree on a common butcher. The local incumbent himself refused to make his services available to the Jewish immigrants, whom he apparently did not consider as part of his own congregation. The reason why one did not simply appoint other and additional slaughterers may have been due to external constraints of the Ottoman rule, but an explanation is not given in the text. Instead, the immigrant Sephardic Jews sought to prove the unsuitability of the incumbent Romaniot butcher and to summon the man before their own Sephardic court. The conflict further evolved as the Romaniot butcher did not comply with this request, just as the Iberian witnesses were unwilling to repeat their testimony in front of the Romaniot court34. In this deadlock situation, in which two claims of authority stood side by side, so to speak, the Greek Jews turned to Mizraḥi for help.

  • 35 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b–13a.
  • 36 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 13a–14b, especially 14b.

16Strictly speaking, there were two questions to which the rabbinic scholar replied in his answer in order to offer a solution to the conflict. First, was the incumbent butcher really unfit to do his job based on the given testimony? Second, if so, was there any way to rehabilitate him? Summarizing Mizraḥi’s extensive remarks, he initially agreed with the enquiring group of Romaniot Jews: the given testimony did not disqualify the butcher. The scholar’s arguments were mainly of a technical nature when he referred to the butcher’s absence from court, but also pointed to the self-interest of the Sephardic Jews who were eager to replace the accused Romaniot Jew with a butcher of their own group35. Thus, an answer to the second question had actually become superfluous. With the suitability of the incumbent butcher sufficiently established, there was no need for his rehabilitation. Nevertheless, Mizraḥi also took up the second question. He used the question for further considerations on precautionary measures to be undertaken in order to ensure a butcher’s proper conduct. Differentiating between different kinds of employment at length, he discussed the advantages of a butcher’s communal service and the fixed terms of his compensation – in contrast to having a butcher work on his own account, who would be tempted to also offer non-kosher meat for sale36.

  • 37 E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 14b:
    ופייסתי אותם שישימו טבח אחד עם הטבח הקודם [...] ו (...)

17On the basis of his detailed argumentation, Mizraḥi finally returned to the conflict between Greek and Iberian Jews in Edirne and formulated his decision: the incumbent Greek butcher was to be joined by a second Iberian butcher and, from then on, they should practice their craft together. With this proposal of cooperation, the rabbinic scholar met the previously articulated need for communal control and could hope that his decision would be recognised by taking both groups into account. For sure, further arrangements would have been necessary in order to implement Mizraḥi’s advice, but he himself assumed that he had successfully overcome the competitive atmosphere in Edirne by his cooperative approach: “I reconciled them by placing one butcher next to the other. […] And if you do this, there will be peace between you and over Israel”37.

(2) The Strategy of Overcoming Competition through Concession

  • 38 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, nos. 17–19, pp. 43–53; idem, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fo (...)
  • 39 Abraham Ibn Yaish descended from a family of Iberian scholars and settled in Istanbul soon after th (...)

18The second case under consideration concerned events in Istanbul and Salonica or, to be more precise, relations between the cities’ very different Jewish populations: whereas the empire’s capital was still home to relatively strong Romaniot congregations, Salonica was dominated by Iberian immigrants and their descendants in the first quarter of the 16th century. What makes the discussion of this second case particularly interesting is the fact that the responsa collections consulted include not only Elijah Mizraḥi’s opinion, but also the view of his Iberian colleague Rabbi Abraham Ibn Yaish38. Both rabbinic scholars resided in Istanbul and had cooperated before39. They now differed in their judgements, but also reacted to each other’s arguments. Thus, the texts provide direct insight into how rabbinic scholars dealt with competition for authority amongst themselves as well.

  • 40 Cf. R. Apple et al., “Marriage”, especially pp. 565–571, and H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, p. 24. (...)

19The conflict in the course of which Mizraḥi and Ibn Yaish were approached concerned the planned marriage of a woman from Salonica with a man from Istanbul. It resulted from different customs that were practiced by Greek and Iberian Jews and centred on the meaning attributed to the giving of gifts by a groom to his future bride (sivlonot). Generally, Jewish law distinguished between three stages in the marriage process: the shiddukhin, or engagement, in which the parties agreed to the marriage and its financial terms; the kiddushin, or formal betrothal ceremony, which took effect through the presentation of an item of monetary value by the groom (for example, a ring) and after which the couple was considered legally bound; and, finally, the nissuʾin, the actual act of marriage, after which the couple was to begin their married life40. With regard to the aforementioned betrothal gifts, it was controversially discussed whether they should be given before or after the kiddushin and whether they could be considered as kiddushin, and thus as binding. Did the bride’s acceptance of the gifts indicate that the couple was formally betrothed?

  • 41 Besides the literature mentioned in the previous annotation, cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Co (...)

20Different Jewish communities followed a diverse array of customs41. Amongst others, the Jews in Istanbul who were influenced by the Romaniot tradition gave the gifts – in the form of jewellery or other luxury items, but also selected dishes – after the couple’s formal betrothal. Thus they considered any woman who received the gifts as legally bound. Contrary to the Greek practice, the Jews of Salonica, dominated by Iberian customs, handed out the gifts before the betrothal ceremony. They did not regard their receipt as an act of kiddushin having taken place. In the specific case in question, the Romaniot groom in Istanbul had sent presents to his future bride of Iberian descent in Salonica. However, as we read, the connection was later broken off. What did this mean for the status of the couple and, in particular, for the woman?

  • 42 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, p. 43:
    ראובן היה דר בקושטנדינה שהוא מקום שחוששים בו לסבלו (...)

Reuven used to live in Constantinople, which is a place where they consider betrothal gifts (sivlonot) [proof of kiddushin], and he became engaged to a woman from Salonica, which is a place where they do not consider betrothal gifts [proof of kiddushin]. And he sent betrothal gifts to his bride according to the marriage custom, and after that she severed the connection. We have to know whether the betrothal gifts are to be considered [proof of kiddushin], since the groom was from the people of Constantinople who consider betrothal gifts [proof of kiddushin], or whether this is not the case. [...] What is the law?42

  • 43 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, nos. 17, pp. 43–46 and 18, pp. 49– (...)
  • 44 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, especially pp.43–45. Ibn Yaish tried to explain the (...)
  • 45 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 18, pp. 49–52.
  • 46 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 18, p. 52.

21The responsa collections at hand contain different answers to this question by Ibn Yaish and Mizraḥi. They also provide an insight into the course of events. Apparently, in the first exchange of opinions, the two rabbinic scholars initially argued according to their own traditions, i.e., the customs familiar to them. To start with the Iberian Ibn Yaish, he declared the custom of the place where the gifts were given to the bride to be decisive43. Since in the present case this had occurred in Salonica, where the gifts were presented before the formal betrothal ceremony, the couple was not yet legally bound and the woman was permitted to marry someone else. The scholar substantiated his decision in two quite extensive responsa. In the first one, he recapitulated the history of the controversy in Jewish law: Ibn Yaish was conscious of the existence of different customs, and he tried to explain the origin of these diverse practices. At the same time, he was convinced that, in any case, the location of the gift transfer, which is the home of the bride, remained decisive44. In his second answer, Ibn Yaish dealt with more practical issues of the individual case, like the correct execution of the first stage of the marriage process, the engagement, and the circumstances of the gift transfer, including the presence of witnesses45. However, principally, he elaborated further on the existence of differing customs and now in addition on their relative strength. The latter, in his view, also spoke for an adherence to the Iberian practice of giving gifts before kiddushin, in effect, for the practice of the growing Sephardic congregations46.

  • 47 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 19, pp. 52–53.
  • 48 This way, many details of the contemporary practice came to the fore. So, for example, due to the y (...)

22Conversely to the decision of his colleague, the Romaniot scholar Mizraḥi argued that it should be decided according to the custom of the groom and his intentions. As in this particular case the man came from Istanbul where betrothal gifts were given after kiddushin, the couple was to be considered legally bound47. Mizraḥi also knew that different customs existed, but for him it was indisputable that here the custom of the groom from Istanbul was to be followed. He engaged with a number of practical issues his Iberian colleague had addressed, refuting any doubts concerning the correctness of the giving of betrothal gifts and, with it, the practice of the Romaniot congregations48. After this first scholarly exchange, one assertion of authority stood alongside the other.

  • 49 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 23a–23b. For a more det (...)

23In the printed responsa collections, we find a continuation of the controversy, in the course of which both scholars apparently started to strive for a more uniform solution. However, which custom was to be followed? After some time, Ibn Yaish seems to have consulted Mizraḥi and, simultaneously, submitted various suggestions for regulating the practice of sending betrothal gifts49. In doing so, he more or less continued to strengthen the Iberian tradition: betrothal gifts should, for example, only be handed out in the presence of a certain number of witnesses, or a woman could declare upon receipt of such presents that these would not imply a legally binding contract. The scholar went on in his argumentation and recommended an ordinance that, on penalty of a fine, nobody should perform kiddushin without first sending betrothal gifts. This regulation was to include the whole area, thus enforcing the Iberian custom upon Istanbul’s entire Jewish population.

  • 50 See the second part of E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 23b–24a. The same text was alr (...)
  • 51 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 24a. The text is consistent with E. Mizraḥi, Ques (...)
  • 52 Cf. H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, pp. 58–59.

24How did the renowned Romaniot scholar Mizraḥi react to this far-reaching proposal? The answer he provided was long, and he critically reviewed the arguments of his Iberian colleague50. What he agreed with was the final insight that a uniform regulation was needed – not only for one community or city, but for the entire country. In order to achieve such a uniformity, Mizraḥi made a major concession: henceforth, betrothal gifts should only be given before kiddushin is performed, that is, according to the custom of the Iberians51. How are we to understand the decision of the Romaniot scholar? As a sign of weakness, since he decided to abandon his own custom? Or as a sign of strength that enabled him as the leading rabbi to approach the group of Iberian immigrants?52 I would tend towards the latter view. In the troublesome situation in which the different congregations found themselves, Mizraḥi was willing to make customary, but not any halakhic, i.e., legal concessions: the Iberian custom was to be followed by all Jews in the country; but, most importantly, kiddushin and the marriage ceremony as a whole retained their clear legal relevance. And it was up to Mizraḥi to decide on these matters.

(3) The Strategy of Overcoming Competition through Integration

  • 53 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, pp. 29–30. This text has also been discussed before. (...)
  • 54 Cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 77–78.
  • 55 For an overview of rabbinic literature on games and gambling, cf. L. Landman, “Jewish Attitudes…”, (...)

25It was not only the existence of differing customs, in whose context or in dealing with which competition became apparent. Competition could also manifest itself in a struggle for decision-making power amongst the Jewish population, beyond any substantial differences in practice. The case at hand had occurred, once more, in Istanbul, the city in which Greek and Iberian Jews were probably almost equally represented at that time, and where Mizraḥi resided53. It was the officials of the congregation of Córdoba who turned to him for advice. The reason why the Iberians did not settle the matter amongst themselves will become apparent in a moment. For the time being, it can be noted that the Sephardic congregations themselves were not a homogeneous group, but rather the arriving immigrants were eager to organise themselves according to smaller geographical units, here their community of origin, Córdoba54. The specific issue at stake was game-playing. Even though the legal opinion remained imprecise as to what kind of games were involved, it can be assumed that the matter would have been handled similarly in different Jewish communities: as widespread as games and gambling were in the 16th century – using dice or cards, for example – they were just as critically viewed and deemed a moral vice by various Jewish scholars, and legally prohibited in a number of very different congregations55. What makes the present case particularly interesting is its intertwining with questions of community affiliation, turning it into an arena of demonstrating authority or, in a way, of competing for authority.

  • 56 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29:
    קהל קורדובה יש להם הסכמה בקנס חרם ששום אחד ממתפללי (...)
  • 57 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29:
    ובהמשך הזמן אחר שההסכמה הזאת נכתבה ונחתמה מהמתפללי (...)
  • 58 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29.

26At first glance, the case concerned the Iberian congregation’s regulation to prohibit its members from playing games in their homes: “The congregation of Córdoba has agreed under penalty of excommunication (ḥerem) that no member of the congregation – may God protect and redeem them – may play games in his home, neither he nor anyone else, except on a few specified days. And this for the period of ten years”56. The conflict arose when a Jew who was only in transit in the city temporarily joined the congregation in prayer: “Some time after this regulation was written and signed by the aforementioned congregants, a certain Jew came to the city who was headed east, to Alexandria, or some other suitable place for a journey, and he was waiting for a ship to embark in order to continue on his way. In the meantime, he came by chance to the Córdoba synagogue and began to pray there.”57 It is described how the Jew – we do not receive any clear information as to his origin – continued to pray with the congregation for nearly six months, even though he never became an official member of the group.58 One day, this very man was now seen playing a game in his home. Opinions among the members of the congregation were divided as to whether he was subject to the communal regulation prohibiting such an activity or exempted, as he had explicitly refused to join the congregation. Under these circumstances, the judges of the congregation of Córdoba appealed to Mizraḥi for his judgement in this matter.

  • 59 For an insight into Jewish trading networks in the 16th-century Mediterranean area, cf. B. Arbel, T (...)

27The question arises, as mentioned above, why the congregation of Córdoba did not take the matter into their own hands. In the specific wording of the legal opinion, reference was only made to “a certain Jew”, which seems to indicate that the man in transit did not belong to their group – he was not from Córdoba and probably not of Iberian descent at all. In a port city like Istanbul, many people were on their way to other places. The Jew in question might very well have been a merchant waiting for a ship to continue his travels and had, for now in the meantime, started to frequent one of the local synagogues59. One can only speculate as to his possible background: was he perhaps of Ashkenazic descent? Or could he have originated from a North African community, since he was headed eastward? It can almost certainly be ruled out that the man passing through was a Greek Jew, for then Mizraḥi would have claimed legal competency from the outset. As it seems, the transient was neither a Sephardic nor a Romaniot Jew.

  • 60 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29.
  • 61 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, pp. 29–30:
    מפני שנחלקו כל הקהלות של עיר קושטאדינה לחבורות (...)

28In this situation, it is plausible to assume that the congregation of Córdoba may have handed over the case to the local authority – and that Mizraḥi accepted it. After all, the Romaniot scholar would have found himself in a quite advantageous situation. The decision in this specific case caused Mizraḥi little headache60: in his opinion, the Jew who only passed through Istanbul was not subject to the regulations of the Córdoba congregation, that is, to the prohibition of playing games. Just in order to avoid conflicts, the man should only play at home and not in public. At the same time, Mizraḥi used the opportunity to win over the favour of the Iberians beyond the case in question and to eventually integrate the community into a locally comprehensive order under his leadership. He assured the enquiring congregation of its independence in matters of custom, even though he legally advised them: “Since the congregations of Constantinople have divided themselves into separate associations, and each one keeps its own customs and ordinances […], regarding its members each congregation has the status of a separate city”61. Mizraḥi did not want to interfere in the affairs of the individual congregation. However, he implicitly reserved for himself the right to an overall supervisory function, deciding, amongst other things, that a newcomer could become a community member if he or she intended to reside permanently, not temporarily, in the area. His attempt was, one might say, to integrate Istanbul’s different congregations into one order so that competition between them would be excluded as far as possible. At the same time, he claimed the highest authority for himself, and the case at hand made it possible to set an important precedent.

(4) The Strategy of Overcoming Competition through Marginalisation

  • 62 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, pp. 25–26.
  • 63 Concerning Solomon Altabib among the Iberian immigrant congregations, cf. M. Rozen, History of the (...)
  • 64 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25:
    והבקשה שבקשת ממני על אודות הספר תורה שנמצא פסו (...)
  • 65 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25:
    [...] אף על פי שיש בעיר ההוא בית הכנסת אחר שיש (...)

29It is quite possible that the last case to be considered also referred to occurrences in Istanbul, but the published version of the responsum does not provide any specific geographical information nor does it mention the name of any particular congregation62. Elijah Mizraḥi had been approached and asked for his opinion by a colleague, Rabbi Solomon Altabib, who belonged to the group of Iberian rabbinic scholars who settled in Istanbul sometime after 149263. The question was posed in very general terms and concerned the handling of a damaged or defective Torah scroll (sefer torah) that was used for reading at public prayer in the synagogue. Altabib was unsure whether in this situation it was alternatively allowed to make use of a bound book edition of the Torah (ḥumash) that usually served the individual study of the text and whether to say the blessing over the codex like one did in the case of the scrolls: “And the question you asked me concerned the Torah scroll that was found unfit for use (pasul). Can they read [instead] a bound edition in public and say the blessing over it at the beginning and at the end?”64. The circumstances were further concretised by one additional detail, when the question continued with the qualifying remark “[…] although there is another synagogue in the city that has a Torah scroll fit for use (kasher)?”65. Thus, two options were theoretically considered: the substitution of the defective Torah scroll by a codex and the cooperation with another congregation – whatever kind of congregation or synagogue this may have been and on whatever terms this should have come to pass.

  • 66 For information on the manufacture and use of Torah scrolls, also in distinction to codices, cf. I. (...)
  • 67 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25–26.

30The manufacture and use of Torah scrolls were subject to a variety of regulations, and mistakes in copying the Hebrew text could render the entire work unfit for use66. The importance of the Torah scroll in synagogal prayer explains why Mizraḥi took his time to consider whether and under what circumstances the use of an alternative book edition was to be permitted67. Weighing the different arguments in the scholarly controversy, he himself opted for the use of a ḥumash in the synagogue and allowed others to do so.

  • 68 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25.

31What is interesting here is the fact that Mizraḥi did not really take the second option suggested in the initial question into serious consideration, the option of turning to another synagogue in the same city. He apparently, and this is striking, perceived such a possible step as analogous to the situation of Jews in villages where there were no other co-religionists, but only non-Jews. Here, where it was impossible to obtain a Torah scroll that was fit for use, people would read from a bound Torah edition and say the blessing over it68. Did Mizraḥi really equate the situation of a Jewish congregation in a city that was home to more than one such congregation with the circumstances faced by Jews living among non-Jews in a village? This is what it seems like. Mizraḥi substantiated his thoughts by referencing an earlier authority, the most renowned Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (1135–1204; Rambam). However, the 12th-century scholar had alluded to the emergency of Jews fleeing their city in times of plague. In the villages these Jews had escaped to they could not use a Torah scroll, but read from a ḥumash instead. From what has been said, it becomes clear that in the present case that concerned synagogal prayer, in many ways the core of congregational life, a close cooperation between different congregations was to be excluded in the eyes of the scholar. A congregation should use a simple codex for prayer rather than turn to another congregation in possession of a Torah scroll that was traditionally used during religious services. In the rest of his answer, Mizraḥi then dealt with more specific regulations concerning Torah reading, but did not come back to the issue of inter-communal relations. His strategy was, as one might say, to deliberately marginalise certain options and rule out competition with other congregations when it came to core issues of the group’s religious life.

  • 69 Different Jewish communities followed, for example, varying orders concerning the weekly Torah port (...)

32Unfortunately, the legal opinion omitted more detailed information on the particular circumstances of the case. First and foremost, one wonders what kind of other synagogue or congregation was referred to in the initial question. Taking into account the time period and location of the rabbinic scholars directly involved, one is tempted to think of the situation in Istanbul at the beginning of the 16th century, where the local Romaniot population was confronted with a large influx of Iberian immigrants. If we agree that the legal opinion reflects the current situation, it is possible that Mizraḥi was eager to prevent too close ritual contacts between the congregations. It cannot be excluded that specific details of the case were only erased from the later edition of the text. However, it is more plausible that Mizraḥi himself decided to ignore particular pieces of information and not to draw too much attention to options involving inter-communal relations in ritual matters. Apart from questions of differing descent, on what terms could the Torah scroll of one congregation have been used in practice by another? It is rather unlikely, if not impossible, that one group would have borrowed the Torah scroll of another Jewish congregation. One could imagine two congregations using one ritually equipped synagogue together, but such an arrangement would in any case have been more than complicated to implement. Even if different customs were involved that would have affected, above all, questions of liturgy – the congregations each follow their own rites – such a form of cooperation would have been quite probably impossible, assuming that one did not want to give up one’s own tradition69. From the textual evidence we have, it seems that Mizraḥi strove to avoid close contact between Jewish congregations in ritual matters, and he might have done so for different reasons. In the end, it was his strategy to avoid possible competition in ritual affairs by limiting or marginalising certain options.

Conclusions: Limits of Unity and Limits of Competition

33This essay focused on a particular historical setting, the situation of the Jewish population in several cities of the Ottoman Empire during the decades around the turn of the 16th century. At this time, the local Greek-speaking Jewish communities saw themselves confronted with an ongoing influx of Jewish refugees from the Iberian Peninsula. For a contemporary insight into the events, the perspective of the Romaniot scholar and rabbi Elijah Mizraḥi was chosen as it could be reconstructed on the basis of his legal opinions given in response to questions addressed to him. An understanding of the situation as one of competition for authority amongst the different congregations and their rabbinic scholars made it possible to ask about the strategies Mizraḥi pursued. I discussed four exemplary and conflict-laden cases that concerned very different fields of life among the heterogeneous Jewish population: the organization of ritual slaughter, the course of the marriage ceremony including the sending of betrothal gifts, game-playing, and the handling of a Torah scroll no longer fit for use. In all of these matters, a competition for authority became manifest which Mizraḥi was eager to overcome – through either cooperation, concession, integration, or marginalisation.

34As the analysis of a number of Mizraḥi’s legal opinions has demonstrated, a competitive struggle often tends to be limited by the interests of the groups involved. Mizraḥi was willing to compromise and, eventually, argued in favour of an overall religious unity, a unity of all “Israel”. However, he did so in very specific situations and in order to assert his own authority as the leading rabbi in Istanbul and even beyond the Ottoman capital. An approach that only concentrated on and collected affirmative claims of Jewish unity without taking their particular contexts into account would, in the end, construct a supposedly stable entity that as such never existed. Instead, it is worth asking about the interests that lead historical actors to express themselves and act accordingly. At the same time, however, it would be too easy to just state the existence of religious diversity, as though the groups in question would not have interacted with and reacted to each other, each anxious to assert its own claims to power. In this essay, it proved illuminating to concentrate on particular historical actors and their individual strategies when faced with diversity within their own religious communities. It is through an analysis of their categories, concepts, and arguments that we can observe how these actors constantly reshaped Judaism.

Top of page

Bibliography

APPLE, Raymond et al., “Marriage”, in Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 13, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 563–574.

ARBEL, Benjamin, Trading Nations: Jews and Venetians in the Early Modern Eastern Mediterranean, Leiden, Brill, 1995 (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies 14).

BENBASSA, Esther and RODRIGUE, Aron, Sephardi Jewry. A History of the Judeo-Spanish Community, 14th–20th Centuries, Berkeley, CA, University of California Press, 2000 (Jewish Communities in the Modern World 2).

BEN-NAEH, Yaron, Jews in the Realm of the Sultans, Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2008 (Texts and Studies in Medieval and Early Modern Judaism 22).

BERKOVITZ, Jay R., Law’s Dominion. Jewish Community, Religion, and Family in Early Modern Metz, Leiden, Brill, 2020 (Studies in Jewish History and Culture 60).

BIALE, David (ed.), Cultures of the Jews. A New History, New York, Schocken Books, 2002.

BRAUDE, Benjamin, “Foundation Myths of the Millet System”, in Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire. The Functioning of a Plural Society, vol. 1: The Central Lands, ed. Benjamin Braude et al., New York, Holmes & Meier, 1982, pp. 69–88.

BRAUDE, Benjamin, “Introduction”, in Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire. The Abridged Edition, ed. Benjamin Braude, Boulder, CO, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2014, pp. 1–49.

BREUER, Mordechai, “‘Hashpaʿah sefaradit’ be-Ashkenaz be-sof yemei ha-benayim u-be-reshit ha-ʿet ha-ḥadashah” [‘Sephardic Influence’ in Ashkenaz at the End of the Middle Ages and the Beginning of the Modern Era], Peʿamim 57 (1994), pp. 17–28.

COHEN, Amnon, Economic Life in Ottoman Jerusalem, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1989 (Cambridge Studies in Islamic Civilization).

COHEN, Rivka, Constantinople, Salonica, Patras. Communal and Supracommunal Organization of Greek Jewry under Ottoman Rule (15th–16th Centuries) (Hebrew), Tel Aviv, The School of Jewish Studies. Tel-Aviv University, 1984 (Greek Jewish Themes in Historical Perspective 3).

DAVIDSON, Hannah, “Fun and Games in the Jewish Communities of the Mediterranean at the Turn of the 16th Century”, Hispania Judaica 7 (2010), pp. 263–275.

DAVIDSON, Hannah, “Communal Pride and Feminine Virtue. ‘Suspecting Sivlonot’ in the Jewish Communities of the Ottoman Empire in the Early Sixteenth Century”, in Sephardi Family Life in the Early Modern Diaspora, ed. Julia R. Lieberman, Hanover, NH, Brandeis University Press, 2011 (HBI Series on Jewish Women), pp. 23–69.

DAVIS, Joseph, “The Reception of the ShulḥanʿArukh and the Formation of Ashkenazic Jewish Identity”, Association for Jewish Studies Review 26 (2002), pp. 251–276.

DINER, Dan, “Einführung”, in Enzyklopädie jüdischer Geschichte und Kultur, vol. 1, ed. Dan Diner, Stuttgart, Metzler, 2011, pp. 6–17.

EPSTEIN, Mark Alan, The Ottoman Jewish Communities and their Role in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, Freiburg im Breisgau, Schwarz, 1980 (Islamkundliche Untersuchungen 56).

FALK, Zeʾev W., Jewish Matrimonial Law in the Middle Ages, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1966 (Scripta Judaica 6).

FRIEDMANN, Jehosua, Elijah Mizrachi: The Man and the Period (Hebrew), Ph.D. diss., Yeshiva University, 1974.

GERBER, Haim, “The Jews of Edirne (Adrianople) in the 16th and 17th Centuries” (Hebrew), Sefunot 18 (1985), pp. 35–51.

GERBER, Jane S., Jewish Society in Fez 1450–1700: Studies in Communal and Economic Life, Leiden, Brill, 1980 (Studies in Judaism in Modern Times 6).

GERBER, Jane S., Cities of Splendour in the Shaping of Sephardi History, London, The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization in association with Liverpool University Press, 2020 (The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization).

GOLDBERG, Harvey E. (ed.), Sephardi and Middle Eastern Jewries. History and Culture in the Modern Era, Bloomington, IN, Indiana University Press 1996.

GOODMAN, Martin, “Introduction. The Study of Toleration”, in Toleration within Judaism, ed. Martin Goodman et al. (ed.), Oxford, The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2013 (The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization).

GOODMAN, Martin, A History of Judaism, London, Allen Lane, 2017.

GROSSMAN, Avraham, “Relations between Spanish and Ashkenazi Jewry in the Middle Ages”, in Moreshet Sepharad: The Sephardic Legacy, vol. 1, ed. Haim Beinart, Jerusalem, Magnes Press, 1992, pp. 220–239.

HACKER, Joseph R., The Jewish Community of Salonica from the Fifteenth to the Sixteenth Century. A Chapter in the Social History of the Jews in the Ottoman Empire and their Relations with the Authorities (Hebrew), Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1978.

HACKER, Joseph R., “The ‘Chief Rabbinate’ in the Ottoman Empire in the 15th and 16th Century” (Hebrew), Zion 49 (1984), pp. 225–263.

HACKER, Joseph R., “Pride and Depression – Polarity of the Spiritual and Social Experience of the Iberian Exiles in the Ottoman Empire” (Hebrew), in Culture and Society in Medieval Jewry – Studies Dedicated to the Memory of Haim Hillel Ben-Sasson, ed. Menahem Ben-Sasson et al., Jerusalem, The Historical Society of Israel. The Zalman Shazar Center, 1989, pp. 541–586.

HACKER, Joseph R., “The Sürgün System and Jewish Society in the Ottoman Empire during the Fifteenth to the Seventeenth Centuries”, in Ottoman and Turkish Jewry. Community and Leadership, ed. Aron Rodrigue, Bloomington, IN, Indiana University Press, 1992, pp. 1–65 (Indiana University Turkish Studies Series 12).

HACKER, Joseph R., “Jewish Autonomy in the Ottoman Empire: Its Scope and Limits. Jewish Courts from the Sixteenth to the Eighteenth Centuries”, in The Jews of the Ottoman Empire, ed. Avigdor Levy, Princeton, NJ, Darwin Press, 1994, pp. 153–202.

HACKER, Joseph R., “Mizraḥi, Elijah”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 14, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 393–395.

HACKER, Joseph R., “The Rise of Ottoman Jewry”, in The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 7: The Early Modern World, 1500-1815, ed. Jonathan Karp et al., Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2018, pp. 77–112.

HAIM, Abraham et al., “Istanbul”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 10, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 773–786.

HELLER, Marvin J., The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book. An Abridged Thesaurus, vol. 1, Leiden, Brill, 2004 (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies, 33/1).

HELLER, Marvin J., The Seventeenth Century Hebrew Book. An Abridged Thesaurus, vol. 1, Leiden, Brill, 2011 (Brill’s Series in Jewish Studies, 41/1).

HELLER, Marvin J., “Sur me-Ra. Leon (Judah Aryeh) Modena’s Popular and Much Reprinted Treatise against Gambling”, Gutenberg-Jahrbuch 90 (2015), pp. 105–122.

HERR, Moshe David et al., “Minhag”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 14, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 265–278.

JACOBS, Louis, “Torah, Reading of”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 20, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 46–50.

LANDMAN, Leo, “Jewish Attitudes toward Gambling: the Professional and Compulsive Gambler”, Jewish Quarterly Review 57 (1967), pp. 298–318.

LANGE, Nicholas de, “Hebrews, Greeks or Romans? Jewish Culture and Identity in Byzantium”, in Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider. Papers from the Thirty-second Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Sussex, Brighton, March 1998, ed. Dion C. Smythe, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2000 (Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies. Publications 8), pp. 105–118.

LANGE, Nicholas de, “Byzantium”, in The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 6: The Middle Ages: the Christian World, ed. Robert Chazan, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2018, pp. 76–97.

LOWRY, Heath W., “When Did the Sephardim Arrive in Salonica? The Testimony of the Ottoman Tax-Registers, 1478–1613”, in The Jews of the Ottoman Empire, ed. Avigdor Levy, Princeton, NJ, Darwin Press, 1994, pp. 203–213.

MARCUS, Simon, “Le-toldot ha-yehudim be-Adrianopoli” [On the History of the Jews of Adrianople], Sinai 29 (1951), pp. 318–334.

MIZRAḤI, Elijah, Sheʾelot u-teshuvot [Questions and Answers], Jerusalem, Darom, 1938.

MIZRAḤI, Elijah and Elijah ben Ḥayyim, Mayim amukkim, vol. 1 [Deep Waters], Berlin, 1778.

NEUSNER, Jacob et al. (ed.), Judaisms and their Messiahs at the Turn of the Christian Era, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1987.

PHILIPSON, David, Old European Jewries, Philadelphia, PA, Jewish Publication Society of America, 1895.

RAY, Jonathan, After Expulsion. 1492 and the Making of Sephardic Jewry, New York, New York University Press, 2013.

RIVKIND, Isaac, “Le-toldot ha-misḥaq be-Yisraʾel” [On the History of the Game in Israel], Ḥorev 1 (1934), pp. 82–91.

ROTHKOFF, Aaron et al., “Sefer Torah”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 18, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 241–243.

ROZEN, Minna, A History of the Jewish Community in Istanbul. The Formative Years, 1453–1566, Leiden, Brill, 2002 (The Ottoman Empire and its Heritage 26).

ROZEN, Minna, “A Pound of Flesh: The Meat Trade and Social Conflict in Jewish Istanbul, 1700–1923”, in Studies in the History of Istanbul Jewry, 1453–1923. A Journey through Civilizations, ed. Minna Rozen, Turnhout, Brepols, 2015 (Diaspora. New Perspectives on Jewish History and Culture 2), pp. 321–360.

ROZEN, Minna, “Salonica (Thessaloniki; Selanik)”, Encyclopedia of Jews in the Islamic World, vol. 4, ed. Norman A. Stillman, Leiden, Brill, 2010, pp. 219–232.

ŞAKIR, Azis Nazmi, “The Formation of the First Ottoman ‘Mother of Israel’ in Edirne”, in The Heritage of Edirne in Ottoman and Turkish Times. Continuities, Disruptions and Reconnections, ed. Birgit Krawietz et al., Berlin, De Gruyter, 2020 (Studies in the History and Culture of the Middle East 34), pp. 285–301.

SAPERSTEIN, Marc, Leadership and Conflict. Tensions in Medieval and Early Modern Jewish History and Culture, Oxford, The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2014 (The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization).

SATLOW, Michael L., Creating Judaism. History, Tradition, Practice, New York, Columbia University Press, 2006.

SCHERESCHEWSKY, Ben-Zion, “Betrothal”, Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 3, ed. Fred Skolnik et al., Detroit, MI, Macmillan Reference USA, 20072, pp. 539–541.

SIMMEL, Georg, Conflict & the Web of Group-Affiliations, transl. Kurt H. Wolff and Reinhard Bendix, New York, The Free Press, 1964.

SIMMEL, Georg, Soziologie. Untersuchungen über die Formen der Vergesellschaftung, Frankfurt am Main, Suhrkamp, 1992 (Georg Simmel. Gesamtausgabe 11).

STILLMAN, Norman A. (ed.), Encyclopedia of Jews in the Islamic World, vol. 1–5, Leiden, Brill, 2010.

TAPPER, Aaron J. Hahn, Judaisms. A Twenty-First-Century Introduction to Jews and Jewish Identities, Oakland, CA, University of California Press, 2016.

TA-SHMA, Israel, “Rabbinic Literature in the Late Byzantine and Early Ottoman Periods”, in Jews, Turks, Ottomans. A Shared History, Fifteenth through the Twentieth Century, ed. Avigdor Levy, Syracuse, NY, Syracuse University Press, 2002, pp. 52–60.

TODOROV, Nikolaj T., The Balkan City, 1400–1900, Seattle, WA, University of Washington Press, 1983.

TRIVELLATO, Francesca, The Familiarity of Strangers. The Sephardic Diaspora, Livorno, and Cross-Cultural Trade in the Early Modern Period, New Haven, CT, Yale University Press, 2009.

WANDREY, Irina, “Torarolle – Tora Scroll”, in Ausstellungskatalog “Tora – Talmud – Siddur”, Hamburg, Universität Hamburg, SFB 950, 2014 (Manuscript Cultures 6), pp. 47–50.

YERASIMOS, Stéphane, “La communauté juive d’Istanbul à la fin du XVIe siècle”, Turcica 27 (1995), pp. 101–130.

YERASIMOS, Stéphane, “Les déportés et leur statut dans l’empire ottoman (XVe-XVIe siècles)”, in Le monde de l’itinérance en méditerranée de l’antiquité à l'époque modern, ed. Claudia Moatti et al., Bourdeaux, Ausonius, 2009, pp. 515–531 (Ausonius éditions 22).

ZIMMELS, Hirsch Jacob, Ashkenazim and Sephardim. Their Relations, Differences and Problems as Reflected in the Rabbinical Responsa, London, Oxford University Press, 1958 (Jews’ College Publications. New Series 2).

ZSOM, Dora, “The Return of the Conversos to Judaism in the Ottoman Empire and North-Africa”, Hispania Judaica Bulletin 7 (2010), pp. 335–347.

Top of page

Endnote

1 A previous version of this essay was presented at the 13th Conference of the Working Group “Early Modern Times” within the Association of German Historians in Rostock in September 2019, as well as at the Early Modern Times Center at the University of Potsdam in December 2019. In particular, I would like to thank Martin Borýsek (Potsdam) and Sina Rauschenbach (Potsdam) for our on-going discussions of Jewish-Jewish encounters in the Ottoman Empire and wider Mediterranean area. Both they as well as Bill Rebiger (Halle) also read this essay. I am very grateful to them all for their helpful remarks. Finally, I would like to thank the two anonymous reviewers for their careful reading of the text and important comments.

2 A frequent reference point is the collective volume edited by David Biale, including its preface: D. Biale (ed.), Cultures of the Jews… Terms like “Jewries” or its German equivalent “Judenheiten” as well as “Judaisms” are quite often used, but usually not or only briefly explained. Cf. just a few examples, on the one hand, such as D. Philipson, Old European Jewries…; H. E. Goldberg (ed.), Sephardi and Middle Eastern Jewries…; D. Diner, “Einführung”, especially pp. 9–11. On the other hand, see, for instance, references to the “Judaisms” of antiquity by J. Neusner et al. (ed.), Judaisms and their Messiahs…, but also A. J. Hahn Tapper, Judaisms…

3 An argument for the emergence of a distinct Sephardic culture at the beginning of the early modern era is prominently given in J. Ray, After Expulsion… With regard to an evolving Ashkenazic (legal) culture, see, for example, J. Davis, “The Reception of the Shulḥan ʿArukh…”.

4 M. Goodman, “Introduction…”, p. 1. See idem, A History of Judaism, especially pp. XXIV–XXV. A similar tack is taken by M. L. Satlow, Creating Judaism…, especially pp. 5–7.

5 For a recent overview of Jewish migration to the Ottoman Empire until the end of the 16th century and the differing conditions of settlement, see J. R. Hacker, “The Rise of Ottoman Jewry”, especially pp. 77–83.

6 Cf. D. Zsom, “The Return of the Conversos…”. Still useful with regard to the general experience of the Iberian refugees is E. Benbassa and A. Rodrigue, Sephardi Jewry…, pp. 1–10.

7 Concerning demographic developments in the 17th century of which immigrants from the Iberian Peninsula were part, cf. Y. Ben-Naeh, Jews in the Realm…, pp. 56–63.

8 See J. R. Hacker, “Pride and Depression…”.

9 For insight into the history and culture of Greek Jews, see N. de Lange, “Hebrews, Greeks or Romans…”, and, more recently, idem, “Byzantium”. For the situation of the community after the Ottoman conquest, cf. R. Cohen, Constantinople, Salonica, Patras…; J. R. Hacker, “The Rise of Ottoman Jewry”, pp. 81–3, and J. S. Gerber, Cities of Splendour…, pp. 175–181.

10 The resettlement policy was known as sürgün. In the aftermath of the conquests, the Ottoman authorities used sürgün as a means of forced colonization to repopulate devastated areas. Cf. B. Braude, “Introduction”, especially pp. 16–18. The policy was not practiced against Jews or non-Muslims as such. However, as the majority of Ottoman subjects were non-Muslims at this time, they suffered most from the policy of resettlement. Cf. J. R. Hacker, “The Sürgün System…”, and S. Yerasimos, “Les déportés…”.

11 Based on older studies, Minna Rozen assumes that in the 1530s more than half of Istanbul’s Jews were of Iberian origin. Cf. M. Rozen, A History of the Jewish Community…, especially pp. 50–54. In his evaluation of the Ottoman documentation, Stéphane Yerasimos is more sceptical, generally assuming lower population figures. Cf. S. Yerasimos, “La communauté juive…”, especially pp. 103–105. On the evaluation of the Ottoman documentation, cf. also N. Todorov, The Balkan City…, pp. 44–60.

12 Cf. M. A. Epstein, The Ottoman Jewish Communities…, especially pp. 21–23 and 54–55; H. Gerber, “The Jews of Edirne…”, especially pp. 35–38; S. Marcus, “On the History of the Jews…”, especially pp. 318–320, and A. N. Şakir, “The Formation of the First Ottoman…”, especially pp. 289–294.

13 Cf. J. R. Hacker, The Jewish Community of Salonica…, especially pp. 62–98 and 161–220, and H. W. Lowry, “When Did the Sephardim Arrive…”. Generally, for a brief overview of Jewish life in individual cities of the Empire, a consultation of the “Encyclopedia of Jews in the Islamic World” is recommended. In the case of Salonica, cf. M. Rozen, “Salonica…”, especially pp. 219–223.

14 Simmel’s remarks on competition on which my approach in the present essay draws are part of his chapter on conflict (“Streit”) within his general sociology; see G. Simmel, Soziologie…, on competition pp. 323–349. For the purpose of this essay, an English translation was used; cf. G. Simmel, Conflict….

15 Cf. Simmel, Conflict, especially pp. 67–71. Simmel elaborates there on two sociological types which exclude or limit competition: the family and, interestingly, the religious community.

16 For general information, here and in the following, cf. J. R. Hacker, “Mizraḥi, Elijah”. A still valuable overview of the scholar’s writings is provided by Jehosua Friedmann, even though many of his remarks on the political and social context are now outdated; cf. J. Friedmann, Elijah Mizrachi….

17 Cf. J. R. Hacker, “The ‘Chief Rabbinate’…”, especially pp. 251–254. Already by the late 16th century, barely any knowledge existed on the origin of the positions held by Elijah Mizraḥi and his predecessor Rabbi Moses ben Elijah Capsali (c. 1420–c. 1500); cf. B. Braude, “Foundation Myths…”, especially p. 80.

18 Cf. J. R. Hacker, “Jewish Autonomy…”. According to Joseph Hacker, Jewish communities found a loophole in which to operate: “a situation of limited de jure authority and widespread de facto activity” (p. 166). The present essay focuses primarily on internal Jewish affairs, on operations within the loophole, as it were, but remains sensitive to the overall distribution of power under Ottoman rule.

19 For illuminating insights into questions of rabbinic leadership in medieval and early modern times, see M. Saperstein, Leadership and Conflict… Regarding the increased importance of competition in less stable societies, see Simmel, Conflict, p. 63.

20 Cf. Hacker, “Pride and Depression…”.

21 Saperstein, Leadership and Conflict, p. 6; see also cf. J. R. Berkovitz, Law’s Dominion…, especially pp. 23–26.

22 Cf. M. J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book…, p. 499. To date only a traditional edition is available; see E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers.

23 Cf. M. J. Heller, The Seventeenth Century Hebrew Book…, p. 639. Also in this case, only a traditional edition is available; see E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1. Elijah Mizraḥi’s responsa were published together with those of his younger colleague Rabbi Elijah ben Ḥayyim (Mahanaraḥ; c. 1530–c. 1610).

24 Exchanges between different Jewish groups, especially on the scholarly level, had to varying degrees always taken place. Cf. with regard to the Middle Ages, A. Grossman, “Relations…”, and M. Breuer, “‘Sephardic Influence’ in Ashkenaz…”.Quite a few Romaniot scholars had studied with Central European scholars, which explains the existence of Ashkenazic influences on rabbinic literature of the late Byzantine and early Ottoman period. Cf. Cohen, Constantinople, Salonica, Patras…, p. 19; I. Ta-Shma, “Rabbinic Literature…”. Concerning Mizraḥi’s teachers and their possible Ashkenazic connections, cf. J. Friedmann, Elijah Mizrachi…, pp. 20–24.

25 The two collections comprise together 140 responsa, but only 110 of them are from Mizraḥi. Several other of the scholar’s responsa still remain in manuscript. Cf. J. R., Hacker, “Mizraḥi, Elijah”, p. 394.

26 Concerning the complex relationship between Jewish law and tradition, cf. M. D. Herr et al., “Minhag”.

27 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b–14b. Cf. J. Friedmann, Elijah Mizrachi…, pp. 54–59.

28 Cf. the literature on Edirne cited above in fn. 12. All the titles listed provide only scant information on Jewish life during the early years of Ottoman rule and hardly any at all on its communal organization in Edirne at that juncture.

29 For the legal and customary background, cf. H. J. Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim…, pp. 199–204, 217 and 319–323. Differences principally concerned the examination of the organs, especially the lung of the slaughtered animal – here Ashkenazic traditions tended to be stricter with regard to possible defects – and the removal of certain portions of fat, while Sephardic traditions were characterised by greater strictness. Generally, the practices of Romaniot Jews resembled Ashkenazic traditions in many ways; cf. above, fn. 24.

30 With reference to 16th century Morocco, cf. J. S. Gerber, Jewish Society in Fez…, pp. 82 and 107, and concerning 17th-century Izmir, see J. Barnai, “R. Yosef Escapa…”, pp. 58–70.

31 Jacob Barnai in particular emphasises the intermingling of customary and economic aspects; cf. J. Barnai, “R. Yosef Escapa…”, pp. 58–70.

32 Concerning the situation in Istanbul, with a concentration on the 18th century and later times, cf. M. Rozen, “A Pound of Flesh…”. For an analysis of the situation in 16th-century Jerusalem, cf. A. Cohen, Economic Life…, pp. 11–60.

33 E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b:
וששאלתם על אודות הטבח שהיה ממונה מקהל אנשי רומניא זה כמה שנים והיה מוחזק להם לאדם כשר בכל מעשיו. ועתה מקרוב אחרי שבאו הספרדים מגרוש ספרד וראו אותו שהיה משגיח באנשי רומניאה להספיק להם בשר כרצונם להיותו ממונה שלהם. ובאנשי ספרד לא היה משגיח כלל. נתקנאו מאד והיו משתדלים בכל יכלתם להוציאו ממנויו למנות אחר מאנשי מקומם כדי שישגיח בהם כרצונם. וכאשר לא עלה זה בידם השתדלו להוציא עליו עדים מביניהם לפוסלו בכל מין ממיני הפסליות עד שיוכלו להוציאו למנות אחר מאנשי מקומ'.

34 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b.

35 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 12b–13a.

36 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 13a–14b, especially 14b.

37 E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 24, fol. 14b:
ופייסתי אותם שישימו טבח אחד עם הטבח הקודם [...] ואם תשמעו לעשות זה יהיה השלום מתווך ביניכם ושלום על ישראל.

38 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, nos. 17–19, pp. 43–53; idem, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 23a–24a. The sources have already been discussed under different aspects in scholarly literature. Cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community …, pp. 132–133 and 137–139, who also provides a partial English translation of nos. 18 and 19, pp. 358–365. Very helpful is the profound analysis of the case in the context of its wider scholarly discussion conducted by H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, especially pp. 39–48 and 56–61. Also cf. J. Friedmann, Elijah Mizrachi…, pp. 42–43.

39 Abraham Ibn Yaish descended from a family of Iberian scholars and settled in Istanbul soon after the expulsion. As one of the most important scholars and legal decisors in the city, he served together with Mizraḥi in the rabbinical court. Cf. J. R. Hacker, “The ‘Chief Rabbinate’…”, p. 252 with annotation 133, and H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, annotation 47, p. 65.

40 Cf. R. Apple et al., “Marriage”, especially pp. 565–571, and H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, p. 24. For an overview of the historical development of the marriage ceremony, cf. Z. W. Falk, Jewish Matrimonial Law…, pp. 35–85 and 86–112. During the Middle Ages, the last two stages, kiddushin and nissuʾin, were often joined into one ceremony performed at the same time. There were, however, also communities that continued to celebrate both parts separately, amongst them the communities of the Byzantine Empire. Cf. Z. W. Falk, Jewish Matrimonial Law…, pp. 36–37. Thus, Romaniot Jews were easily able to exchange betrothal gifts after kiddushin had taken place, the point of controversy in the present case.

41 Besides the literature mentioned in the previous annotation, cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community …, pp. 132–133, and B.-Z. Schereschewsky, “Betrothal”, pp. 539–541.

42 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, p. 43:
ראובן היה דר בקושטנדינה שהוא מקום שחוששים בו לסבלונות ושידך אשה אחת בסלוניקי שהוא מקום שאין חוששים בו לסבלונות ושלח סבלונות לארוסתו כמנהג הארוסים ואחר כך נתבטל אותו הזיווג יש לדעת אם נחוש לאותם סבלונות כיון שהמשדך היה מבני קושטנטינה שחוששין לסבלונות אם לאו [...] הדין מהו.
Cf. the more detailed description of the same case, ibidem, at the beginning of no. 18, p. 49.

43 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, nos. 17, pp. 43–46 and 18, pp. 49–52.

44 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, especially pp.43–45. Ibn Yaish tried to explain the differing customs with reference to the women’s character in the various communities: where betrothal gifts were given before kiddushin, people were not concerned with the possibility of a broken engagement. But in places where betrothal gifts were only given after kiddushin, such fears existed. See, ibidem, especially p. 45. Implicitly, Ibn Yaish claimed the moral superiority of Sephardic women. Cf. H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, pp. 39–43.

45 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 18, pp. 49–52.

46 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 18, p. 52.

47 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 19, pp. 52–53.

48 This way, many details of the contemporary practice came to the fore. So, for example, due to the young age of the couple, betrothal gifts would quite often be sent by family members like the groom’s mother. Concerning the young age of many engaged couples, see also M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 114–120.

49 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 23a–23b. For a more detailed account of the contents, cf. H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, pp. 56–61.

50 See the second part of E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 23b–24a. The same text was already printed at the end of E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, pp. 46–49. Cf. again the summary and analysis provided by H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, pp. 56–61.

51 See E. Mizraḥi, Deep Waters, vol. 1, no. 38, fol. 24a. The text is consistent with E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 17, p. 49.

52 Cf. H. Davidson, “Communal Pride…”, pp. 58–59.

53 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, pp. 29–30. This text has also been discussed before. Cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 86 and 275, who, again, provides a partial English translation of the legal opinion, pp. 314–317. Furthermore, cf. H. Davidson, “Fun and Games…”, especially pp. 272–275.

54 Cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 77–78.

55 For an overview of rabbinic literature on games and gambling, cf. L. Landman, “Jewish Attitudes…”, and Isaac Rivkind, “On the History of the Game…”. Landman observed an increase in the frequency and number of those amongst the Jewish population involved in games of chance during the 16th century. For contemporary voices of Jewish scholars concerning such practices, cf. H. Davidson, “Fun and Games…”, especially pp. 264–266. Most famous is the voice of the Italian Rabbi Leon Modena (1571–1648), who was himself a gambler and wrote a popular tractate against gambling. Cf. M. J. Heller, “Sur me-Ra…”.

56 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29:
קהל קורדובה יש להם הסכמה בקנס חרם ששום אחד ממתפללי הקהל יצ"ו לא יוכל להיות שוחק בביתו לא הוא ולא אחרים כי אם בקצת ימים רמוזים וזה לזמן עשר שנים.
The translations, here and in the following, are based on the English translation provided by M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 314–317, especially 314. In rabbinic literature, the term “playing with dice” (lesaḥeq be-qubiʾa) refers to gambling. See Bavli Sanhedrin 24b. However, the language of the regulation at hand used lisḥoq without qubiʾa. Even though it might be possible that the contemporaries understood the term as a rabbinic allusion, I rather assume, given Mizraḥi’s nuanced use of language, that the regulation referred to game-playing in general. Cf. the detailed argumentation of H. Davidson, “Fun and Games…”, especially pp. 271–272. Hannah Davidson assumes that the regulation specifically aimed at recreational game-players in these times.

57 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29:
ובהמשך הזמן אחר שההסכמה הזאת נכתבה ונחתמה מהמתפללים הנזכרים בא לעיר הזאת יהודי א' מגמת פניו למזרח לאסכנדר' או לאי זה מקום שיזמן לו מהלך נאות והוא ממתין עד שתזדמן לו ספינה לרצונו לעלות בה להלוך לדרכו ביני וביני נכנס להתפלל בבית הכנסת של קורדובא באקראי בעלמא [...].

58 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29.

59 For an insight into Jewish trading networks in the 16th-century Mediterranean area, cf. B. Arbel, Trading Nations…. For later times and with a focus on Sephardic communities, cf. F. Trivellato, The Familiarity of Strangers…, especially pp. 102–131.

60 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, p. 29.

61 E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 13, pp. 29–30:
מפני שנחלקו כל הקהלות של עיר קושטאדינה לחבורות חבורות וכל אחת נדונה בפני עצמה בין במנהגיה בין בתקנותיה [...] הרי היא נחשבת לכל אותם המתפללים שם כעיר בפני עצמה.
Cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, p. 317.

62 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, pp. 25–26.

63 Concerning Solomon Altabib among the Iberian immigrant congregations, cf. M. Rozen, History of the Jewish Community…, pp. 259–260; A. Haim et al., “Istanbul”, p. 775. In the legal opinion, Altabib was mentioned with great respect and his name was imbued with a number of laudatory attributes. This might – beyond matters of courtesy – be interpreted as an effort to win the favour of the Iberians and their representatives.

64 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25:
והבקשה שבקשת ממני על אודות הספר תורה שנמצא פסול אם יכולים לקרוא ברבים בחומש ולברך עליו תחלה וסוף.[p. corr.]

65 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25:
[...] אף על פי שיש בעיר ההוא בית הכנסת אחר שיש בו ספר תורה כשר.

66 For information on the manufacture and use of Torah scrolls, also in distinction to codices, cf. I. Wandrey, “Torarolle…”; A. Rothkoff et al., “Sefer Torah”.

67 See here and in the following E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25–26.

68 See E. Mizraḥi, Questions and Answers, no. 10, p. 25.

69 Different Jewish communities followed, for example, varying orders concerning the weekly Torah portion to be read, used differing modes of cantillation of the Hebrew text and presented the Torah scrolls in different ways during religious services. Cf. L. Jacobs, “Torah…”, especially pp. 49 and 50; also H. J. Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim…, pp. 113–114 and 142.

Top of page

References

Electronic reference

Susanne Härtel, A Question of Competition? How to Deal with Inner-Jewish Diversity in Cities of the Ottoman Empire at the Turn of the 16th CenturyHamsa [Online], 8 | 2022, Online since 14 September 2022, connection on 17 May 2026. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/hamsa/2775; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/hamsa.2775

Top of page

About the author

Susanne Härtel

Institut für Jüdische Studien und Religionswissenschaft, Universität Potsdam

Top of page

Copyright

CC-BY-NC-ND-4.0

The text only may be used under licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. All other elements (illustrations, imported files) may be subject to specific use terms.

Top of page
Search OpenEdition Search

You will be redirected to OpenEdition Search