A  Son  Will  Be  Born  to  You  The  Besht’s  Nativity  Told  Across  Four  Cultural  Contexts  

Jeff  Amshalem  

Ben-­‐Gurion  University  of  the  Negev  

May  2013  

  2  

 

INTRODUCTION  

In   his   book   Carnal   Israel,   Daniel   Boyarin   describes   his   method   of   reading  

rabbinic   texts,   specifically   the   two   genres   of   halakha   and   aggada   and   their  

relationship   to  each  other:   instead  of   reading   the  aggada  as  historical  background  

for  understanding   the  halakha,  Boyarin  does   the  opposite,   reading   the  halakha   ‘as  

background   and   explanation   for   the   way   that   the   rabbinic   biographies   are  

constructed.’1  I  suggest  that  a  similar  relationship  exists  between  Hasidic  narrative  

and  theoretical  writings.  My  aim  in  this  paper  is  to  apply  Boyarin’s  methodology  to  

the  reading  of  a  single  tale  across  four  cultural  contexts,  in  an  attempt  to  understand  

how  the  different  versions  of  the  tale  not  only  reflect  the  values  of  each  culture  but  

how  each  author  specifically  uses  the  tale  to  advance  his  own  value  system  as  part  

of   a   larger   religio-­‐cultural   discussion.   The   tale  we  will   read   recounts   the   birth   of  

Israel   Baal   Shem   Tov   (also   known   as   ‘the   Besht’,   and   traditionally   dubbed   ‘the  

founder  of  Hasidism’2)  and  the  test  his  parent(s)  passed  to  merit  it;  the  four  cultural  

contexts  are  White  Russia  in  1814,  Ukraine  in  1865,  the  United  States  in  1967,  and  

contemporary  America.    

Let   me   begin   by   summarizing   Boyarin’s   characterization   of   the   two   rabbinic  

genres  and  then  defending  my  claim  that  the  narrative  and  theoretical  texts  under  

consideration  are  parallel  in  the  relevant  respects.  First,  Boyarin  describes  rabbinic  

literature   as   the   result   of   a   long  process   of   collation   and   editing   of   originally   oral  

traditions,   the   circumstances   of   which   are   usually   lost   to   us.   Second,   it   combines  

theoretical  writings   –   primarily   halakha,   but   even   this   legal  material   implies   (and  

sometimes  even  articulates)   theology,  ethical  and  spiritual  values,  social  structure,  

                                                                                                               1 Boyarin, Carnal Israel, p. 15. 2 Recent scholarship has questioned this moniker to various degrees. Most visibly, in the last generation of scholars, two biographies of Israel Baal Shem Tov were written with very different outcomes: Emmanuel Etkes maximizes the use of traditional material and maintains Israel’s role as the founder of the movement in his The Besht: Magician, Mystic, and Leader (see esp. pp. 4, 256-7), while Moshe Rosman casts doubt on all traditional material and relies instead on historical documents such as tax records in his book titled (somewhat ironically) The Founder of Hasidism. Yohanan Petrovsky-Shtern divides the entire field into these two modalities, dubbed ‘star-struck’ and ‘earth-bound,’ (‘“Hasidei de’ara and Hasidei dekokhvaya”: Two Trends in Modern Jewish Historiography’).

  3  

and  more   –  with   narrative,   ranging   from  hagiography   to   parables   to  myth.   Third,  

this   literature   is   not   a   closed   conversation   occurring   entirely   within   the   rabbinic  

academy   but   is   also   part   of   a   larger   intra-­‐   and   intercultural   discussion   which  

includes   rabbis   of   other   communities,   Jews  who   fall   outside   of   the   rabbinic   elite,  

other  trends  within  Judaism,  and  even  non-­‐Jews  from  the  surrounding  Babylonian,  

Greek,  Roman,  and  other  cultures.  By  considering  also  scholarly  approaches  to  the  

literature,  we  can  add  a  fourth  feature:  earlier  generations  considered  the  aggada  to  

be  ‘legendary  elaborations  of  “true”  stories  [that]  contained  a  kernel  of  biographical-­‐

historical   truth,   which   could   be   discovered   by   careful   literary   archaeology,’3   and  

thus  could  serve  as  either  ‘explanatory  “background”  which  could  be  used  to  explain  

legal  opinions  and  innovations’  or  which  should  stand  on  their  own  as  autonomous  

literary  texts  in  the  New  Critical  sense.4  Thus  far  Boyarin’s  presentation  of  rabbinic  

literature.  

The  two  genres  under  consideration  here  match  each  of  these  four  features  to  

greater  or   lesser  degrees.  First,  Hasidic   tales  and  sermons  began   in  oral   form  and  

only   later   were   collected,   edited,   written   down,   and   possibly   edited   again   before  

being   printed.   While   the   circumstances   surrounding   their   creation   are   not  

completely   irretrievable,   as   is   the   case   with   Talmudic   aggada,   they   are   short   on  

evidence   ‘outside   the   texts’   which   would   allow   us   to   confidently   place   them   in   a  

specific   context   complete   with   names,   dates,   and   surrounding   events.   Second,  

Hasidic  tales  have  from  the  start  been  accompanied  by  theoretical  literature  treating  

theological,  devotional,  ethical,  and  social  themes.  There  is  clear  evidence  of  the  Baal  

Shem  Tov  himself  using  tales  as  a  medium  for  his  own  theoretical  teachings.5  Third,  

both   literatures   –   the   narrative   and   the   theoretical   –   were   part   of   a  much   larger  

conversation  occurring  across  the  Jewish  and  even  non-­‐Jewish  society  of  their  time  

and  place.  This  conversation  included  an  exchange  of  ideas  ranging  from  respectful  

borrowing   to   scholarly   debate   to   fierce   polemic.   Last,   just   like   rabbinic   literature,  

                                                                                                               3 Ibid., p. 10. 4 Ibid., p. 15. 5 As recorded by Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye, perhaps the Besht’s closest disciple and certainly the most extensive source of his teachings; see Toledot Yaakov Yosef, fos. 75b and 201b, and Tsafenat Paneah, fo. 20b.

  4  

early   generations   of   scholarship   saw   the   tales   as   at   least   potentially   historical  

material  which  could   reveal   ‘kernels  of   truth’   if   read  correctly,6  or  as  autonomous  

texts  which  could  reveal  the  ‘essence’  of  Hasidism  with  no  recourse  to  the  homilies  

accompanying  them.7  These  features  apply  not  only  to  Hasidic  literature  as  a  whole  

but  to  the  first  two  contexts  below;  as  we  move  to  20th  century  America  for  the  last  

two,  the  details  surrounding  the  authors  become  clearer  and  the  distance  between  

them  and  their   theoretical  writings  become  shorter,   though  of  course   the  distance  

between   them  and   the  original   tale  grows   increasingly   longer.   It   is  worth  noting  

that  both  20th  century  authors  present  themselves  as  essentially  editors  and  

compilers  of  earlier  texts,  however,  and  not  as  authors  in  the  modern  sense.  

In   this  way   they   actually  mimic   the   rabbinic   texts   as   described   by  Boyarin,  

which   ‘present   themselves   as   anthologies…as   if  we  had   access   to   the   actual  

raw  material  of  rabbinic  oral  interactions.’8  

It   is   important  to  pause  and  define  what  I  mean  by   ‘Hasidic.’  First  of  all,  

‘Hasidic’  here   is,   admittedly,   a   sort  of   short-­‐hand  used   to   succinctly   refer   to  

the   four   authors   and   their   respective   milieus.   While   the   final   author   is   no  

longer  a  member  of  a  particular  Hasidic  community,  though,  his  writings  can  

certainly   be   seen   as  part   of   a   continuum  of  Hasidic   literature.   Second,   even  

when   dealing   with   those   authors   who   are   decidedly   ‘inside’   the   Hasidic  

                                                                                                               6 For example, Simon Dubnow sought to ‘extract the seed from the garbage of legend’ – the garbage being anything supernatural – and accepted most everything else (Toledot Hahasidut, pp. 41-6). Israel Zinberg likewise rejects all supernatural elements out of hand (A History of Jewish Literature, vo. 9, pp. 27-8). Fitting his reading of Hasidism in general, Benzion Dinur’s view was that the tales reflected not the lives of their heroes but the needs and desires of lower class Jewish society (Bemifneh Hadorot, pp. 140-3). Gershom Scholem and Joseph Dan would later consider the miraculous elements themselves as historical phenomena (Scholem, ‘The Historical Figure of the Besht,’ pp. 307-8, and Dan, The Hasidic Story, pp. 88-9). (For full discussions see Moshe Rosman, ‘In Praise of the Ba’al Shem Tov: A User’s Guide to the Editions of Shivhei haBesht,’ Polin 10 (1997), pp. 184-5; Etkes, The Besht, pp. 206-14.) 7 The main proponent of this approach was Martin Buber, who was involved in a famous dispute with Gershom Scholem over the relative value of the tales and homilies. For a combination of the historical and literary approaches, see Moshe Rosman, ‘Omanut ha-historiografiah ve-shitot ha-folklor,’ pp. 209-218, and K. E. Grözinger, ‘The Source Value of the Basic Rescensions of Shivhei haBesht,’ p. 354. 8  Carnal  Israel,  p.  26.  

  5  

community  both  from  their  own  perspective  and  that  of  scholars,    we  should  

nonetheless  be  careful  not  to  allow  my  use  of  this  word  out  of  convenience  to  

blur  the  distinctions  between  them  and  lead  us  to  see  them  as  members  of  a  

single  homogeneous  community  or  tradition.  In  Boyarin’s  words,  we  must  not  

reify  Hasidism,9  but   rather   recognize   the  multiplicity  and  variety  within   the  

community   –   on   display   below,   where   even   the   two   Habad-­‐Lubavitch  

communities  are  very  different  from  each  other  –  just  as  Boyarin  is  at  pains  to  

distinguish   between   ‘rabbinic’   and   ‘Hellenistic’   Judaisms   and   even   to   point  

out   the   differences  within   each   strain.   If   anything,   the   results   of   this   paper  

show  the  problems  inherent  in  speaking  of  ‘Hasidism.’  

Let  us  now  turn  to  Boyarin’s  approach  which  we  will  use   in  reading  the  

tale  on  the  birth  of  the  Besht.  As  he  explains,  his  ‘major  form  of  discourse’  is  

composed   (as   mine   will   be)   of   ‘close   readings   of   literary   texts   of   various  

types.’   His   readings   are   not   strictly   literary,   however;   in   fact,   Boyarin  

explicitly  rejects  seeing  the  texts  as  autonomous  in  the  New  Critical  sense,10  

claiming   that   ‘The   study   of   a   literary   work   cannot   be   pursued   in   isolation  

from  other  concurrent  socio-­‐cultural  practices’  and  ‘Much  of  the  rigid  barrier  

between  the  current  humanities  and  social  sciences  must  be  dismantled.’11    

Instead,   building   on   the   theories   of   Foucault   and   the   ‘sensibility’   of   the  

New   Historicists,   Boyarin   proposes   that,   counter   to   earlier   scholarly  

convention,   ‘literature   [is]   a   process   integrally   connected   with   other   social  

processes,’  which  not  only  reflects  a  culture  but  ‘by  which  a  culture  organizes  

its  production  of  meaning  and  values  and  structures  itself.’12  Ultimately,  then,  

Boyarin   combines   literary   and   meta-­‐literary   readings   into   a   new   form   of  

criticism  akin   to   the   ‘cultural  poetics’  of  Stephen  Greenblatt,  whom  he  cites,  

                                                                                                               9  Ibid.,  p.  10;  see  also  p.  22.  10  Carnal  Israel,  p.  11.  11  Ibid.,  pp.  12-­‐3.    12 Carnal Israel, p. 12.

  6  

which  ‘respects  the  literariness  of  literary  texts…while  attempting  at  the  same  

time  to  understand  how  they  function  within  a  larger  socio-­‐cultural  system  of  

practices.’  Boyarin’s  own  term,  which  I  find  particularly  applicable  to  my  own  

reading   of   narrative   and   theoretical   texts   together,   is   ‘co-­‐reading,’   that   is,  

reading   in   comparison   ‘many   different   sub-­‐texts   in   search   of   access   to   the  

discourse  of  the  society  in  which  they  were  produced.’13  

 

READING  THE  BESHT  

So,   to   borrow   Boyarin’s   question,14   how   do   we   translate   these   ideas   into  

interpretation   of   texts,   specifically   the   four   versions   of   the   Besht’s   nativity  

tale   considered  below  and   the   theoretical  writings  of   the   tales’   authors   and  

their  mentors?  I  will  begin  with  ‘close  readings  of  literary  texts’  of  essentially  

two  types:  narrative  and  theoretical.  The  narrative  texts  will  be  four  versions  

of   the  Besht’s  nativity   tale,  most  comparable   to   the  rabbinic   ‘biographies’  of  

the  Talmudic  aggadah  literature.  The  theoretical  material  will  be  the  homilies,  

letters,   interviews,  and  other  programmatic  writings  of   the  authors  of   those  

four   versions   and   their   primary   teachers.   This  material  will   provide   insight  

into   the   very   different   ‘concurrent   socio-­‐cultural   practices’   and   the   ‘social  

discourse’   in   which   the   four   nativity   tales   take   part,   and   help   us   answer  

questions  parallel   to   those  Boyarin  asks  about   the  Talmudic   ‘romance’  of  R.  

Akiva  and  Rachel15:  Why  is  this  story  told?  What   is  the  cultural  work  that   is  

done   by   presenting   the   hero   of   the   nativity   tale,   that   is   Eliezer   and,   by  

extension,  his   son   the  Besht,   in   the  way  particular   to  each  version?  Boyarin  

argues   that   ‘Precisely   the   evident   fact   that  we  have   the   same   story   [Akiva’s  

romance]   in   front   of   us   in   two   versions   [Babylonian   and   Palestinian]   here  

enables  us  to  perceive  the  different  cultural  work  that  each  version  is  doing,                                                                                                                  13  Ibid.,  p.  14.  14  Ibid.,  p.  12.  15  Ibid.,  p.  138.  

  7  

thus  providing  clues  for  differences  between  the  two  cultures  that  produced  

them.’16  I  would  argue  the  same  for  our  use  of  four  versions  of  the  Besht  tale  

from  four  cultures  –  by  comparing  them  we  are  able  to  isolate  the  differences  

and,   by   ‘co-­‐reading’   them   with   their   respective   theoretical   literatures,   to  

identify   the   cultural   impetuses   behind   them   and   the   addition   to   the   social  

discourse  made  by  each.  

As  Boyarin  suggests  we  always  will,  we   find  the  different  versions  to  be  

intimately  bound  up  with  meaning-­‐making,  clarification  and  transmission  of  

values,   and   development   of   social   structures.   Each   of   these   is   a   specifically  

active   and   conscious   effort   on   the   part   of   the   author   to   forward   a   certain  

argument  within   the   social   discourse,   not  merely   an   unwitting   reflection   of  

that   discourse   and   the   surrounding   cultural   reality.   What’s   more,   this  

discourse  and  this  reality  must  be  explored  in  order  to  understand  the  tales  

but,  in  a  reciprocal  process  of  reading,  they  are  themselves  better  understood  

in  light  of  our  process  of  ‘co-­‐reading.’    

 

MY  “IN”  

At   the   start   of   his   book,   Boyarin   posts   the   disclaimer   that   ‘There   is   no  

pretense  at  objectivity  and  disinterest  in  this  text.’    Rather,  he  acknowledges  

that   his   motives   and   his   methods   are   shaped   by   his   identity   as   a   self-­‐

identified  ‘rabbinic  Jew’  and  ‘feminist.’  He  argues,  however,  that  this  does  not  

deny  his  work  objectivity  or  ‘historical  meaningfulness,’  only  that  it  requires  

honesty  and  transparency.17  I  too  am  motivated  by  my  own  self-­‐identification  

with  the  Besht  and  the  generations  of  Jews  who  have  identified  themselves  as  

his  followers  and  spiritual  inheritors.    

                                                                                                               16   Ibid.,  p.  158.  Boyarin  performs  the  same  type  of  triangulation  on  the  Palestinian  and   Babylonian   midrashim   on   the   story   of   Miriam   and   Aaron’s   speaking   out  against/  for  Tzipporah  (see  pp.  160-­‐5).  17  Ibid.,  p.  19.  

  8  

While  I  am  not  a  Hasidic  Jew,  I  do  see  ‘my  province’  as  Hasidism  because,  

echoing  Boyarin,  my  religious  practice  is  deeply  shaped  by  its  teachings  and  

way  of  life  and  I   ‘consider  myself  an  heir  to  its  traditions  and  memories  and  

also  because   I  have  chosen   it  as  my  province  of   intellectual  discourse,’   facts  

which  ‘obligate  me…to  engage  in  a  critical  practice  of  reading  these  texts.’  My  

own   motivations   are   not   so   grand   as   Boyarin’s   in   wishing   ‘to   change   the  

world’;  rather,  I  hope  to  identify  the  changes  made  over  time  in  the  image  of  

the  Besht,  along  with   the  cultural   factors  driving   those  changes,  providing  a  

meta-­‐narrative   to   the  story  which  may  help  me  (and  others   in  my  position)  

make  a   ‘usable  past’  out  of  the  Besht  and  the  Hasidic  tradition  –  or,  prior  to  

that,  to  decide  if  such  a  past  can  indeed  be  made  at  all.18    

In   creating   such   a  meta-­‐narrative   (not   Boyarin’s   language   but  my   own  

term  for  his  project,  akin  to  his  ‘discursive  formation’  but  not  identical  to  it),  

my   aim   is   not   to   provide   an   apologetic   for   the   changes   made   or   for   their  

motives,  nor   is   it   to  cynically  discount   those  changes  and  their  authors.   In  a  

way,  they  were  engaged  in  the  exact  same  activity  as  I  am  of  making  a  ‘usable  

past,’   though   perhaps   not   as   openly.   So   I   find   Boyarin’s   term   ‘generous  

critique’  particularly  apt  to  my  own  approach  to  the  material,  which  includes  

‘criticiz[ing]   practice   of   the   Other   from   the   perspective   of   the   desires   and  

needs   of   here   and   now,   without   reifying   that   Other   or   placing   myslef   in  

judgment  over  him  or  her  in  his  or  her  there  and  then.’19  

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  tale  itself,  and  its  four  different  tellers.  

 

White  Russia,  1814  

Our   tale   first   appears   in   Shivhei   haBesht,   a   collection   of   some   two-­‐hundred  

stories   about   Israel   Baal   Shem   Tov   and   his   companions.   These   were   told   orally,  

                                                                                                               18  Ibid.,  p.  20.  19  Ibid.,  21.  

  9  

apparently  for  some  four  decades,20  before  one  Dov  Ber  of  Illintsy  decided  to  collect  

as   many   as   he   could   and   write   them   down,   ‘as   a   reminder   for   all   who   cling   to  

God…to  strengthen   their   faith   in  God  and   in  His  Torah  and   in   the  tsadikim.’21  This  

seems  to  have  occurred  a   few  years  before  the  turn  of   the  nineteenth  century.  His  

manuscript   circulated   and   was   copied   and   re-­‐copied   over   the   following   two  

decades,   until   Israel   Jaffe   of   Kopys,   a   member   of   the   Habad-­‐Lubavitch   school   of  

Hasidism,   decided   to   print   the   text   to   show   that   ‘there   is   no   generation   without  

famous  tsadikim.’  Before  doing  so,  however,  he  edited  the  manuscript(s),  mainly  by  

rearranging  the  order  of  the  stories,  deleting  a  few,  and  –  most  importantly  for  our  

purposes  –  adding  several  tales  recounting  the  birth  and  youth  of  the  hero,  calling  

the  cycle  ‘The  Story  of  the  Besht’s  [Early]  Life  and  Revelation,’  essentially  describing  

how  he  transformed  from  Israel  ben  Eliezer  to  the  Baal  Shem  Tov.22  Jaffe  claims  his  

source   for   this   arrangement   and   the   new   stories  was   ‘the  Admor,’   presumably   R.  

Shneur  Zalman  of  Liadi,  the  leader  of  the  Habad-­‐Lubavitch  school.23  

These   tales  present  a  very  different  Besht   than  we   find   in   the  opening  of  Dov  

Ber  of  Illintsy’s  collection,  where  miracles,  healings,  and  exorcisms  abound.  In  Jaffe’s  

‘biography,’   the  Besht  does  not  perform  a   single  miracle,   though  miracles   seem   to  

occur   all   around   him24;   the   closest   he   comes   to   performing   a   miracle   himself   is  

freeing  his  master’s  horses  from  the  mud  by  speaking  to  them.  I  would  place  this  act  

rather  in  the  category  of  the  wondrous,  along  with  his  killing  of  the  werewolf,25  his  

                                                                                                               20 Elchanan Reiner, ‘Shivhei haBesht: Transmission, Editing, and Printing,’ p. 146; Rosman, ‘User’s Guide,’ p. 185. 21 Author’s introduction to Shivhei haBesht. All English translations of Shivhei haBesht are taken from Dan Ben-Amos and Jerome R. Mintz, In Praise of the Baal Shem Tov [Shivhei ha-Besht]: The Earliest Collection of Legends about the Founder of Hasidism. 22 Rosman, ‘User’s Guide,’ p. 188. 23 Printer’s Introduction to Shivhei haBesht. 24 See Ben-Amos, In Praise, ‘Rabbi Adam and the King’s Banquet’ (pp. 13-4), ‘The New Coat of Rabbi Adam’s Wife’ (p. 15), ‘The Besht and the Robbers’ (p. 22-3), ‘The Vengeful Robber’ (p. 23), ‘The Besht’s Journey to the Holy Land’ (p. 23-4), and ‘The Besht Reveals Himself to the Sect of the Great Hasidim’ (pp. 28-31). The tales are found on folios 1a-4b in the original Kopys edition. 25 Ibid, p. 13.

  10  

speaking  to  the  scholar  reincarnated  as  a   frog,26  his  short-­‐cut  to  the  Holy  Land27  –    

and  the  story  of  his  father’s  trial  before  the  Besht’s  birth.  

This  opening  story  describes  how  ‘Rabbi  Eliezer,  our  teacher,’  was  captured  by  

bandits  and  sold  as  a  slave  into  a  country  where  it  was  a  capital  crime  to  be  a  Jew.  

He   found   favor   in   his   master’s   eyes   and   was   appointed   overseer   over   the   whole  

house,  before  becoming   the  personal   slave  of   the  king’s  viceroy.   If   the  parallels   to  

the  Joseph  narrative  were  not  already  obvious,   Jaffe   interweaves  phrases  from  the  

Biblical  text  to  cement  the  connection.  So  we  are  not  surprised  when  Eliezer  offers  

his  master  advice,  saying,  ‘Do  not  interpretations  belong  to  God?’28    

The   advice  was   a   plan   for   how   to  win   a   battle,   and   after   the   victory   the   king  

appoints   him   general   and   gives   him   the   viceroy’s   daughter   for   a   wife   –   though  

Eliezer  of  course  refuses  to  touch  her.  When  he  confides  to  her  that  he  is  a  Jew,  she  

sends  him  back  to  his  wife,  and  on  the  way  home  he  meets  Elijah  the  Prophet,  who  

informs  him,   ‘Because  of  the  merit  of  your  behavior  a  son  will  be  born  to  you  who  

will   bring   light   to   Israel.’   The   son  born   to   them   is   of   course   the  Besht,  who   could  

only  be  born  after   they  had  aged  enough   to   lose  all  physical  desire.  The  narrative  

closes  with  Eliezer  giving  his  parting  words  to  his  son  Israel:  ‘I  see  that  you  will  light  

my   candle,   and   I   will   not   enjoy   the   pleasure   of   raising   you.   My   beloved   son,  

remember  this  all  your  days:  God  is  with  you.  Do  not  fear  anything.’29  

There   are   several   features   of   this   story  worth   considering,   the  most   obvious  

being   the  parallels   to   Joseph  and,   to  a   lesser  extent,  other  Biblical   figures,   such  as  

Moses  in  obtaining  permission  to  keep  the  Sabbath30  and  Abraham  in  giving  birth  to  

a  promised  son   in  his  old  age.   I  would  also  mention   the   lack  of  miracles,  Eliezer’s  

exemplary   dedication   to   the   Jewish   faith   and   the   Jewish   people   in   an  

overwhelmingly   anti-­‐Jewish   environment,   and   an   equation   of   spirituality   with  

separation  from  materiality.                                                                                                                  26 Ibid., pp. 24-6. Another clear categorization is the traditional hagiographical literature, specifically Shivhei ha-Ari and other tales of Isaac Luria, in which the kabbalist speaks to animals and trees and releases souls from their unfortunate reincarnations. 27 Ibid., pp. 23-4. 28 Ibid, p. 8, citing Gen. 40:8. 29 Ibid., p. 11. 30 See Ex. Rabbah i. 32.

  11  

We   might   ask   first   why   Joseph   is   chosen   as   the   dominant   model   and   not  

‘Abraham   our   Father’   or   ‘Moses   our   Teacher.’   I   believe   the   answer   is   in   the  

midrashic   description   of   Joseph   as   the   archetypal   tsadik31   and   the   kabbalistic  

identification   of   Joseph   with   the   sefirah   of   that   name,   also   known   as   yesod.32  

Together  these  associations  create  the  concept  of  tsadik  yesod  olam,   ‘the  righteous  

one   is   the   foundation   of   the   world,’33   an   apotheosis   of   the   righteous   sage   which  

became   institutionalized   in  precisely   Jaffe’s  generation.34  What’s  more,  at   the   time  

Jaffe  published  Shivhei  haBesht,  Hasidism  as  a  whole  and  Habad  Hasidism  in  general  

were  dealing  with  the  question  of  how  this   institution  was  to  continue  beyond  the  

death   of   the   tsadik,   as   Shneur   Zalman’s   son  Dov  Ber   and   close   disciple  Aharon   of  

Staroszelje   were   competing   to   take   his   place.35   While   for   Dov   Ber   of   Illintsy   the  

Besht  was  a  wonder-­‐working  ba’al  shem  who  claimed  authority  based  solely  on  his  

miraculous   powers   and  his   charisma,   Jaffe   remade  him   in   the   image   of   the   newly  

minted  Hasidic  rebbe  complete  with  yihus,  or  descent   from  a  rabbinic   father  (Jaffe  

calls   Elieser   ‘a   great   tsadik’),   from   whom   he   receives   spiritual   instruction   and  

sanction  as  a  leader.36  

The  image  in  which  Jaffe  cast  both  the  Besht  and  his  father  was,  naturally,  that  

of  Shneur  Zalman,  his  own  rebbe.  Shneur  Zalman,  in  contrast  to  many  of  his  peers,  

downplayed  the  role  of  the  miraculous  in  the  functioning  of  the  rebbe.37  His  central  

text,  Tanya,  makes   no  mention   of   the   ability   of   the   tsadik   to   perform  miracles   or  

intercede  on  his  followers’  behalf.  In  a  famous  quotation  he  claimed  that  at  the  study  

                                                                                                               31 The single best discussion of this process is found in Ada Rapoport-Albert’s ‘Hasidism After 1772: Structural Continuity and Change.’ 32 See Bahir, ed. Margoliot 102; Zohar I, 43a. 33 Prov. 10:25. See TB Hag. 12b, Ber. 17b, Yoma 38b; Sifre Deut. 38; for a full discussion, see Arthur Green’s ‘The Zaddiq as Axis Mundi in Later Judaism.’ 34 See Rapoport-Albert, ‘Hasidism After 1772,’ and Immanuel Etkes, ‘The Zaddik: The Interrelationship between Religious Doctrine and Social Organization.’ 35 Moshe Rosman has argued that not only this tale but the entirety of Jaffe’s Shivhei haBesht was propaganda for Dov Ber over Aharon of Staroszelje (Founder of Hasidism, pp. 187-211). 36 See Rosman, Founder of Hasidism, pp. 206-9. 37 I would not go so far as Avraham Rubinstein in saying that Jaffe had a distinct ‘rationalizing agenda’ (‘The Revelation Stories in Shivhei haBesht’); I have already shown elsewhere that his editing biases are much more nuanced and often in the opposite direction from the new rationalism of the 19th century (Amshalem, ‘Why Do You Not Tell Stories in My Praise Also?’). I prefer Zvi Mark’s term ‘de-magicalizing’ (‘Dybbuk and Devekut in the Shivhe ha-Besht,’ p. 264).

  12  

hall   of   his  master   Dov   Ber,   ‘miracles   lay   around   on   the   floor   in   piles,   but   no   one  

bothered   to   pick   them   up.’38   Shneur   Zalman   was   even   more   fiercely   opposed   to  

magic  of  any  kind,  declaring  it  contrary  to  the  concept  of  an  omnipotent  God.  When  

describing  Hasidism  to  the  Russian  authorities  he  left  out  all  mention  of  the  Besht,39  

and   to   his   own   followers   claimed   to   know   nothing   of   the   Besht   using   ‘practical  

kabbalah.’40  Shneur  Zalman   instead   focused  on  his   task  as   teacher,   spiritual  guide,  

and  self-­‐sacrificing   leader  who  bares   the  oppression  and  captivity  of   the  czar,41  as  

evident  in  his  public  statement  that  no  one  should  come  to  him  asking  for  material  

blessings,   but   only   for   spiritual   instruction.42   Such   a   model   is,   of   course,   just   as  

obvious  in  this  tale  of  Rabbi  Eliezer.43  

Zvi  Mark   has   suggested   that   Jaffe   not   only   sought   to  model   the   Besht   (and,   I  

would   add,   his   father)   on   Shneur   Zalman,   but   also   to   distance   him   from   another  

(in)famous   leader,   Shabbatai   Zvi,   about   whom   Jaffe   published   a   novel   in   the  

previous  year  entitled  Me’ore’ot  Zvi.  Like  the  figure  of  Shabbatai  Zvi  in  that  work,  the  

Besht  in  Dov  Ber  of  Illintsy’s  manuscripts  appeared  as  a  magician  of  unknown  origin  

whose   mystical   experiences   resembled   fits   of   madness   and   whose   charismatic  

power  is  first  recognized  by  a  madwoman.  It  seems  to  be  in  part  for  this  reason  that  

Jaffe  minimized  the  magical  element  and  replaced  the  madwoman  with  a  rabbi  in  his  

own  revelation  story,  as  well  as  making  the  changes  and  additions  noted  above.44  

I   might   also   suggest   that   the   other   two   features   we   noted   in   the   story   are  

related   to   Jaffe’s   cultural   context.   It   seems  Eliezer’s  dedication   to  his   faith  and  his  

                                                                                                               38 Hayyim Meir Heilman, Beit Rabbi, p. 6. 39 Rosman, Founder of Hasidism, pp. 40-1. 40 Ibid., pp. 23-4. 41 This model is clear in the biography of Shneur Zalman, Shivhei haRav, written in the next generation by another member of the Habad community, Michael Levi Rodkinson (Frumkin), which recounts Shneur Zalman’s imprisonment by the czar and his subsequent winning of the czar’s favor, not by performing miracles, but through his wisdom and shrewdness. 42 Immanuel Etkes, Ba’al haTanya: Shneur Zalman of Liadi and the Beginnings of Habad Hasidism, pp. 48-56, citing the personal writings of Shneur Zalman and Heilman’s biography Beit Rabbi. 43 This complements Immanuel Etkes’ claim that the understanding of the zaddik provided ‘retrospective theoretical legitimization’ rather than serving as a ‘blueprint’ (‘Zaddik,’ pp. 167, 159). 44 ‘Dybbuk and Devekut,’ pp. 280-3.

  13  

people   was   meant   to   stand   as   an   example   for   the   Jews   of   Czarist   Russia,   where  

pressure   to   assimilate   was   especially   strong.   Likewise,   the   dependence   of   the  

Besht’s   birth   on   his   parents’   having   lost   their   sexual   desire   matches   Shneur  

Zalman’s  philosophy  more  closely  than  those  of  many  of  his  peers.45  

I  would   argue   that  what  we   see   here   is,   as   in  Boyarin’s   argument,   not   only   a  

reflection  of  cultural  values  but  their  advancement.  Especially  in  the  presentation  of  

the  Besht’s  father  as  a  shrewd  and  learned  rabbi  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  to  stay  

true  to  his  faith  and  people,  we  find  a  platform  for  the  ideal  rebbe  and  a  lineage  for  

the  Besht,  who  has  since  his  actual   life   found  himself   in  need  of  yihus.  We  will  see  

next  how  each  author  following  Jaffe  adopted  and  adapted  this  story  to  present  the  

Besht  who  would  most  exemplify  his  own  cultural  and  religious  values.  

 

UKRAINE,  1865  

Following   the  publication  of  Shivhei  haBesht,   there  was  a  stretch  of   fifty  years  

before  the  next  printed  Hasidic  tales;  when  they  did  return,  however,  they  did  so  in  

force.  One  of  the  many  such  texts  to  be  written  was  a  slim  book  called  Rahamei  haAv  

[Tchernovitz   1865],   an   anonymous   collection   of  moralistic   teachings   and   edifying  

tales   organized   alphabetically   by   topic   and   clearly   aimed   at   a   popular   audience.46  

The   author   was   later   identified   as   Jacob   Kattina,   a   Hasidic   rabbi   from   Khust,  

Ukraine,  who  was  also  the  author  of  a  collection  of  homilies  entitled  Korban  heAni,  

which,   like   Rahamei   haAv,   brings   many   teachings   from   the   Besht   and   his  

descendants.  

                                                                                                               45 For example, Ze’ev Wolf of Zhitomir and Uziel Meizlish of Ritshvol, fellow students of the Maggid of Mezritsh, use physical desire (specifically sexual desire in the Wolf’s case) as an avenue to grasping the divine. While the interplay of the physical and spiritual in Shneur Zalman’s philosophy is far more nuanced than can be expressed in this discussion, a central theme is the absolute dichotomy between the ‘animal soul’ and the ‘divine soul’ and the requirement to absolutely subdue the former to the latter. 46 Aside from the nature of the content, an alphabetized list of moral virtues presented in simple language and accompanied by parables and tales, we have the explicit statement of the author that this ‘book, slight in quantity and quality,’ served as a sort of ethical will to his children which may also provide some light if ‘shared among Jacob and spread among Israel’ (Rahamei haAv, Introduction).

  14  

Kattina’s   presentation   of   the   Besht   differs   significantly   from   both   Dov   Ber   of  

Illintsy’s  and  Israel  Jaffe’s,  and  so  does  his  tale  of  Eliezer’s  test.  While  he  maintains  

Jaffe’s  structure  (a  test  of  Eliezer  and  the  reward  of  a  son,  announced  by  Elijah),  the  

values  expressed  within  this  structure  are  very  different.  Kattina  describes  Eliezer  

as   so   ‘great   in  hospitality’   that  he  posts  watchmen  at   the  borders  of   his   village   to  

send  any  travelers  to  his  home,  where  he  would  feed  and  house  them  and  see  them  

off  with  a  donation.  Eliezer  is  exceedingly  sensitive  to  the  feelings  of  his  guests:  he  

instructs  his  watchmen   to   reassure   the   travelers   that   they  would  be   taken  care  of  

and  gives  them  their  donation  as  soon  as  they  arrive,  so  that  they  can  eat  their  meals  

in  peace  and  not  worry  about  the  rest  of  their  needs.  

Heaven   decides   to   test   Eliezer,   and   Elijah,   offering   to   go   instead   of   Samael,  

appears   at   the   house   of   Eliezer   on   Sabbath   afternoon,  with   his  walking   stick   and  

pack  in  hand,  and  greets  Eliezer  with  the  traditional  ‘shabta  tova’  to  indicate  that  he  

does   indeed   know   that   it   is   the   holy   Sabbath,   when   he   should   not   be   travelling.  

Although  it  would  be  fit  for  Eliezer  to  throw  the  man  out  for  desecrating  the  day,  he  

immediately  welcomes  him  in,  feeds  him  the  two  remaining  Sabbath  meals,  and  on  

the  morrow  escorts  him  out  after  giving  him  breakfast  and  a  parting  gift  –  all  with  

no  mention   of   his   behavior,   since   he   does   not   want   to   embarrass   the   poor  man.  

Elijah,   seeing   this,   reveals   himself   and   announces   that   Eliezer,   because   of   his  

treatment  of  the  disguised  prophet,  will  merit  a  son  ‘who  will  enlighten  the  eyes  of  

Israel.’  

As  a  bonus  for  us,  Kattina  even  explains  the  tale,  concluding,    

The  essence  of   this  mitsvah   is   to  have   faith   in  God  and  give  much   to   the  poor,  not  only  in  food  and  drink  and  clothing  but  also  with  one’s  body  and  mouth,   giving   advice   and   encouragement   to   the   brokenhearted,   and  imagining  he  were  the  poor  man  and  how  happy  it  would  make  him  to  be  cheerfully   included  by  others,   and  not  with   resentmentment   as   so  many  people  do.  

 

For  Kattina,   it   is  not   important  that  Eliezer  be  a  great  and  shrewd  leader,  honored  

by   the   non-­‐Jews   yet   declining   their   welcome;   rather,   simple   piety,   generosity   of  

spirit,   and   the   ability   to   empathize   with   the   common   poor   were   what  made   him  

worthy  of  being  the  father  of  the  Besht.    

  15  

Such   qualities   are   exactly   the   ones   Kattina   teaches   in   the   name   of   the   Besht  

throughout  his  teaching,  such  as  the  duty  to  keep  one’s  mind  on  God  at  all  times,47  

the   value   of   equanimity   and   the   meaninglessness   of   public   honor,48   and   the  

requirement   of   each   individual   to   develop   his   own   understanding   and   service   of  

God.49  What’s  more,   just  as  miracles  are  absent  from  the  portrait  of  the  Baal  Shem  

Tov   across   Kattina’s   writings,   the   explicitly   wondrous   folk-­‐tale   and   hagiographic  

elements  which  characterized  Shivhei  haBesht  are  absent  from  his  nativity  tale.    

The   theme   of   eschewing   honor   is   particularly   noteworthy   in   the   light   of   the  

cultural   conversation   Kattina   participated   in   as   a   Hasidic   rabbi,   since   it   appears  

specifically   in   the   context   of   public   leaders.   First,   it   is   brought   in   the   section   on  

rabbanut,   that   is,   the   rabbinic   institution,   which   for   Kattina   meant   primarily   the  

institution  of  the  Hasidic  rebbe.  Second,  the  development  of  an  individualized  path  

in   service   is   contrasted   with   that     of   a   ‘tsadik   son   of   a   tsadik’   who   inherited   his  

position  and,  presumably,  his  entire  way  of   service.  Finally,   it   follows  an  anecdote  

about  Dov  Ber  of  Mezritsh,  traditionally  seen  as  the  Besht’s  successor,  complaining  

that   he  was   punished  by   being  made   famous.50  Here  we   cannot   help   but   contrast  

Jaffe’s  need  in  1814  to  institutionalize  not  only  the  tsadik  but  the  Besht  himself,  with  

Kattina’s   approach   fifty   years   later,   when   familial   succession   was   the   norm   and  

Hasidism   was   filled   with   an   ever   increasing   number   of   rebbes,   especially   in   the  

Ukraine.51  

So  Jacob  Kattina  favored  piety  over  intellect,  secrecy  over  publicity,  and  ethical  

over  magical  greatness.  He  also  stressed  the   importance  of  simple   Jews,  especially  

the   poor   –   a   theme   found   in   the   handful   of   printed   Hasidic   tales   that   preceded  

                                                                                                               47 Rahamei haAv, §23; the same teaching is brought in Korban heAni, Shlah, fo. 59a. 48 Ibid., §32. 49 Ibid., §51; the same teaching appears in Korban heAni, Behukotai, fo. 51b. 50 Compare the teaching brought in the Besht’s name that tsadikim should act in secret (Korban heAni, Shlah, fo. 57b). 51 The first Hasidic dynasty began in the Ukraine, when Menahem Nahum of Chernobil was succeeded as rebbe by his eldest son Mordechai Mottel in 1797. Unlike in White Russia and most of Poland, the tradition became not to maintain the community under the leadership of one rebbe but to create a new court for each of the rebbe’s sons, leading to an exponential multiplication of successor rebbes leading smaller and smaller communities (see Arthur Green, Light of the Eyes, p. 21).

  16  

Shivhei  haBesht52  and  which,  for  many  modern  readers,  typifies  the  genre,  but  which  

is   notably   absent   from   Jaffe’s   work   –   and   minimized   the   focus   on   the  

institutionalized   tsadik,   counter   to   the   primary   agenda   of   his   predecessor.   From  

what  we  have  seen,  the  direct  parallels  between  these  values  and  the  nativity  tales  

of  Kattina  and  Jaffe  should  be  obvious,  as  should  be  the  flow  of  causality.  

 

UNITED  STATES,  1967  

For  our  next  version  of  the  tale  we  return  to  Habad  Hasidism,  but  we  cross  an  

ocean   and   a   century   to   arrive   at   Zalman  Aryeh  Hilsenrad’s  The   Baal   Shem  Tov:   A  

Brief   Biography   of   Rabbi   Israel   Baal   Shem   Tov,   the   Founder   of   Hasidus   [Brooklyn,  

1967].     The   rebbe   of   the   community   is   now  Menachem  Mendel   Schneerson,   and  

Habad  Hasidism  has  come  a  long  way  from  Shneur  Zalman’s  village  in  White  Russia.  

Since   the   second   world   war   it   has   emerged   as   a   powerful   force   not   only   in  

Orthodoxy   but   outside   of   it,   launching   campaigns   across   America   and   beyond   to  

return   Jews   to   traditional   observance   and,   ideally,   membership   in   the   Habad  

community.   Their   foe   in   this   endeavor   is   the   overwhelming   attractiveness   of  

American  culture,  especially   the  social  advancement  and  material   rewards  offered  

by   it.  Let’s   take  a   look  at   the   ‘biography’  of   the  Besht  Hilsenrad  wrote   for  such  an  

audience  and  presented  as  a  compilation  and  translation,  though  it  should  become  

immediately  obvious  that  he  was  much  more  than  a  compiler  and  translator.  

First  of  all,  he  combines  both  sources  seen  above  to  recount  now  three  tests;  to  

this   new   meta-­‐structure   he   also   adds   dramatic   elements   and   poetic   language.   R.  

Eliezer,  after  having  failed  to  bring  his  neighbors  back  to  God,  ‘left  the  city  and  took  

up  his  abode  in  the  wooded  forest  [where]  the  birds  with  their  songs  and  the  beasts  

with   their  growls  all   are   really  blessing  G-­‐d.’53  When   the  bandits  arrive,   their   first  

inclination   is   to   kill   the   penniless   Eliezer   and   his   wife,   but   ‘Rabbi   Eliezer   looked  

                                                                                                               52 Found in Aharon of Apta’s Keter Shem Tov (1794/5); on this work and the beginning of the genre in print, see Gedalia Nigal, ‘New Light on the Hasidic Tale and its Sources’ and ‘A Primary Source for Hasidic Tales.’ 53 Ibid., p. 15; cf. ‘eagerly people pursued worldly goods…so greedy for gold and silver! Why, when G-d causes the sun to shine, is not the world golden? And at night, when he presents to us out of His treasture, the moon and the starts, is not the world full of silver?’ (p. 14).

  17  

deeply  into  the  eyes  of  the  leader,  who  suddenly  experienced  a  change  of  heart  and  

said  to  his  followers,  “Do  not  shed  blood.”’    

The  Joseph  story  continues  according  to  the  script  as  Eliezer  is  sold  into  slavery  

in   a   faraway   land   and   appointed   overseer   of   the   noble   estate.   To   the   traditional  

template  Hilsenrad  adds  three  noteworthy  features.  First,  Eliezer’s  plan  to  win  the  

battle  for  the  king,  which  originally  included  sending  a  boat  of  convicts  into  booby-­‐

trapped  waters   to   locate   the   traps,   now   has   Eliezer   himself   leading   the   fleet   and  

warned  away   from  the   traps  by  a   flock  of  birds.  Second,  Hilsenrad  adds   the  detail  

that   Eliezer   foregoes   the   ‘exotic  meals   at   the   general’s   table,’   feeding   them   to   the  

dogs   and   living   instead   on   ‘kernels   of   corn   and   wheat.’54   Third,   Eliezer   not   only  

abstains  from  sexual  relations  with  the  king’s  daughter  but  even  manages  to  avoid  

marrying  her  altogether  by  escaping  the  kingdom.  Thus  he  passes   the  second  test,  

and  returns  safely  home,  where  he  finds  ‘his  dearly  beloved  wife  reciting  Techinos  –  

the  heartfelt  prayers  of  supplication  for  women.’55    

The   final   test   is   taken   from  Rahamei  haAv,  and  again   follows  the  template  but  

for  two  important  changes.  The  first  is  that  the  test  is  explicitly  described  to  prove  

whether  or  not  Eliezer  ‘loves  and  can  abide  a  Jew  who  has  thrown  off  the  yolk  of  the  

Kingdom   of   Heaven.’   The   second   is   that,   instead   of   Elijah   the   Prophet   replacing  

Satan  in  testing  Eliezer,  it   is  Satan  who  is  chosen  over  Elijah  to  go  disguised  as  the  

Sabbath  desecrator.56    

We   can   sort   Hilsenrad’s   innovations   into   two   categories:   one   reflects   his  

audience  and   their  values,   the  other  his  own  values  which  he   is   inserting   into   the  

nativity  tale.  In  the  first  category  we  can  include  Eliezer’s  remaking  as  a  back-­‐to-­‐the-­‐

earth  nature-­‐lover  who  relishes  the  sunlight  more  than  gold  and  prefers  to  speak  to  

birds  over  people.  This  new  Eliezer  evokes  the  legends  of  St.  Francis  of  Assissi  more  

than   Jaffe’s  own   tales   in  Shivhei  haBesht,   and   is   an  obvious  appeal   to   the   counter-­‐

                                                                                                               54 Ibid., pp. 17-8. 55 Ibid., p. 18. 56 Ibid., p. 20.

  18  

culture  youth  of  the  late  60’s,  who  held  up  St.  Francis  as  a  model57  –  and  whom  the  

Lubavitcher  Rebbe  specifically  addressed  as  ripe  for  the  message  of  Hasidism.58    We  

can  likewise  include  in  this  category  Eliezer’s  personally  leading  the  fleet  in  place  of  

sacrificing   the   boat   of   convicts   –   a   change   in   tactics   reflecting   the   increased  

sensitivities  of  the  20th  century  American  audience.  

Most   of   Hilsenrad’s   changes   could   fit   both   categories,   a   reflection   of   the  

surrounding  culture  and  a  propogation  of  Habad  values.  In  Eliezer’s  response  to  the  

bandit  we   find   that   he   has   become   a   sort   of   peace   activist   and  missionary   in   the  

model  of  St.  Francis,  Jesus,  and  the  Buddha,59  and  a  universalist  preacher  in  line  with  

the  Lubavitcher  Rebbe,  who  saw  his  mission  as  not  only  to  bring  Jews  to  Judaism  but  

non-­‐Jews  to  the  moral  code  known  as  ‘the  seven  Noahide  laws.’60    

I  would  also  include  Hilsenrad’s  line  about  Eliezer’s  wife  saying  Tehinos.  1960’s  

America,  especially  its  youth,  would  likely  have  questioned  the  total  absence  of  the  

Besht’s  mother   in   his   nativity   tale.   At   the   same   time,   as   part   of   his   application   of  

kabbalistic   ideology   to   his   contemporary   context,   Schneerson   argued   that  women  

must  be   involved   in   the  messianic  effort,  yet  still  within  their  own  defined  roles.61  

Both   sensibilities   are   contained   in   the   addition   of   Eliezer’s   ‘dearly   beloved   wife  

reciting  Techinos  –  the  heartfelt  prayers  of  supplication  for  women.’  

Likewise   Hilsenrad’s   subtle   but   important   details   about   Eliezer’s   keeping  

kosher  and  refusing  to  even  marry  the  non-­‐Jewish  princess  much  less  consummate  

the  marriage.  We  know  that  accepting  the  laws  of  kashrut  was  among  the  first  steps  

                                                                                                               57 ‘Youth: The Hippies,’ Time Magazine, July 07, 1967. Shivhei haBesht, for its part, modeled the Besht after Isaac Luria, the most highly regarded kabbalist since the Zohar (see, for example, the Writer’s Introduction). 58 Sue Fishkoff, The Rebbe’s Army, pp. 95, 223. This can also be seen by the fact that Chabad’s outreach campaign was launched anew at the same time as President John F. Kennedy’s establishment of the Peace Corps – Chabad officials link the two, saying that both drew on the same idealism of that generation (Fishkoff, p. 28). 59 All heroes to the 60’s counter-culture (‘Youth: The Hippies,’ Time Magazine, July 07, 1967). 60 The Lubavitcher Rebbe officially launched his Noahide Campaign in the mid-1980’s, though statements about the Jewish duty to instruct non-Jews on proper service were already made as early as the 1960’s (Avrum Ehrlich, The Messiah of Brooklyn, pp. 107-8). 61 Fishkoff, The Rebbe’s Army, pp. 7, 39, 128-29, 244-7; Samuel Heilman and Menachem Friedman, The Rebbe: The Life and Afterlife of Menachem Mendel Schneerson pp. 6, 176-83.

  19  

the  Lubavitcher  Rebbe  suggested  for  Americans  returning  to  observance,62  seeing  in  

it  a  demarcation  between  the  Jewish  community  and  the  tempting  non-­‐Jewish  one,  

and   that   intermarriage   was   gaining   increased   attention   at   this   time.63   In  

Schneerson’s  correspondence  from  that  time,  in  fact,  he  calls  intermarriage ‘one of the

greatest calamities,’64 and compared contemporary assimilation to the Holocaust.65

 

The   last  two  changes  speak  directly  to  the  mission  of  Habad  in  America  –  and  

Eliezer  in  Hilsenrad’s  tale.  While  in  Kattina’s  telling  Elijah  also  appears  as  a  Sabbath-­‐

desecrator,  it  is  to  test  the  extent  of  Eliezer’s  charity,  which  is  the  primary  virtue;  in  

Hilsenrad’s  version,  the  entire  test,  as  articulated  by  Satan,  is  whether  or  not  he  can  

love  a  non-­‐observant  Jew  and  welcome  him  into  his  own  Sabbath  observance.  This  

was   also   the   ultimate   test   of   any   Habad   Jew,   especially   a   shaliah,   or   religious  

emissary,  as  Eliezer  has  become.  This  is  the  reason  why  Elijah  had  to  be  replaced  by  

Satan  –  the  prophet  ‘was  so  saturated  with  goodness  and  love  of  our  people’  that  it  

would  make  too  easy  of  a  test;  rather,  someone  had  to  be  chosen  who  would  better  

represent  even  the  worst  depravations  of  assimilated  Jewry.  

This  pointed  transformation  of  Eliezer  into  a  Habad  shaliah  is  made  even  more  

obvious   by   the   following   two   details.   The   first   is   that   Hilsenrad   feels   the   need   to  

defend   Eliezer’s   acceptance   of   Satan   instead   of   rebuking   him   for   desecrating   the  

Sabbath,  arguing  that  ‘it  was  this  type  of  person’  (read,  the  American  Jew  who  feels  

                                                                                                               62 Fishkoff, The Rebbe’s Army, p. 49. 63 Even though the spike in intermarriage had not yet occurred and intermarriage rates were in fact lower than in previous eras in American history. See Ben Harris, ‘A Short History of Jewish Intermarriage,’ Jewish Telegraph Agency, August 8, 2013, retrieved 29.9.2013 from jta.org; and ‘International Council of Jewish Women told that Intermarriage is Threat in West,’ Jewish Telegraphic Agency, June 4, 1969, retrieved 29.9.2013 from jta.org. 64 From a letter dated September 29, 1966, retrieved 22.9.2013 from chabad.org, ‘What’s Wrong With Intermarriage?’ 65 ‘…the method of spiritual cremation, involving not the Jewish body, but the Jewish soul—through assimilation, intermarriage, etc.—is just as devastating [as gas chambers and crematoria]…the spiritual crematoria, where Jewish souls are being consumed, are to our great distress still ablaze, and more fiercely than ever. The House of Israel is on fire (may G-d have mercy), and the young generation, as things now stand, is largely trapped. You are surely not unaware of the “dry” statistics of intermarriage and assimilation in this country…’ (From a letter dated 1964, retrieved 22.9.2013 from chabad.org, ‘The House Is on Fire and Our Children Are Inside.’

  20  

no  a  priori  loyalty  to  Jewish  tradition)  ‘whom  the  Sages  of  the  Gemora  had  in  mind  

when   they   advised   that   we   should   not   address   any   rebuke  when   it   is   sure   to   be  

ignored.’66   The   second   is   that   the   Besht   himself   is   also   remade   in   this   image.67  

Hilsenrad  writes   that   ‘while   still   an   infant,   the  Baal  Shem  Tov  manifested  some  of  

the  unique  characteristics  which  were  to  be  the  hallmark  of  his  mission  –  to  bring  

our  people  ever  closer   to  our  Father   in  Heaven.’68  Likewise,  Eliezer’s  advice   to  his  

son  from  his  deathbed,  which  up  to  this  point  was   limited  to  fearing  God  and  only  

God,  now  includes  this  addendum:  ‘with  all  your  heart  and  every  fiber  of  your  being,  

love  each  and  every  one  of  our  people…  regardless  of  who,  what,  and  where  he  is…  

These  words  of  his  saintly  father  became  enshrined  in  his  heart  and  guided  forever  

his   life’s   purpose.’69   Compare   the   Lubavitcher’s   definition  of   a   hassid   as   ‘one  who  

puts  his  personal   affairs   aside  and  goes  around   lighting  up   souls  of   Jews  with   the  

light  of  Torah  and  mitzvot…That  is  the  function  of  a  true  hassid.’70  

 

CONTEMPORARY  AMERICA  

Our  final  version  of  the  Besht’s  nativity  tale  was  published  in  the  United  States  

in   2005   by   Yitzhak   Buxbaum,   a   self-­‐described   ‘maggid   (preacher)’   and   ‘spiritual  

storyteller’71  and  author  of  a  number  of  books  on  spirituality  and  storytelling,   two  

topics  he  also  brings  personally  to  audiences  across  the  spectrum  of  observance  as  

an  independent  teacher.  Buxbaum  has  some  connection  to  Habad,  having  returned  

to   religious   observance   after   spending   half   a   year   in   a   Lubavitch   yeshivah,   and  

receiving  ordination  as  a  maggid  from  Rabbi  Shlomo  Carlebach,  who  himself  served  

as  a  Habad  shaliah  in  the  1950’s.  Several  features  of  Buxbaum’s  book,  The  Light  and  

                                                                                                               66 Hilsenrad, Baal Shem Tov, p. 20. 67 The equation of the images of the Besht and his father is also a sign that there is no longer a need to provide a lineage for the Besht, as there was in Jaffe’s context. Eliezer has no further use as the Besht’s father per se beyond providing one more role model of the same set of values. For more examples of the Besht and his father being presented in identical ways, see Hilsenrad, p. 26. 68 Hilsenrad, Baal Shem Tov, p. 23. 69 Ibid., p. 25. 70 Jacob Immanuel Schochet, Chassidic Dimensions, p. 198. 71 Buxbaum, ‘Interview,’ retrieved 15.9.2013 from Buxbaum’s website, jewishspirit.com.

  21  

Fire  of  the  Baal  Shem  Tov,  show  a  clear  reliance  on  Hilsenrad’s  version,72  though  we  

will  see  that  he  tells  a  very  different  nativity  tale.  

Buxbaum  ignores  entirely  the  tradition  from  Shivhei  haBesht  and  instead  retells  

Kattina’s   story,   with   three   noteworthy   deviations.   The   first   is   that   the   Besht’s  

mother  is  described  as  equally  righteous  as  her  husband  and  takes  equal  part  in  the  

divine  test.  The  second  is  that,  like  Hilsenrad,  the  emphasis  is  on  their  treatment  of  

non-­‐observant   Jews,73   but   the   sense   of   judgment   of   non-­‐observant   Jews   and   the  

defensiveness  around  associating  with  them  noticeable  in  the  latter  is  missing  from  

Buxbaum’s  version.    

Most  importantly,  the  notion  of  a  ‘secretive  society’  of  ‘hidden  tzaddikim,’  while  

mentioned  in  Hilsenrad,74  in  Buxbaum’s  telling  becomes  a  central  factor  in  the  life  of  

the  Besht  and  his  family.  First,  it  is  stated  as  historical  fact  in  the  introduction  that  

‘the   two  most  healthy   and  vibrant   segments  of   the   Jewish   religious   community   in  

Poland  at  this  time  were  the  pre-­‐Beshtian  hasidim  (pious)  and  the  hidden  tzaddikim  

(righteous)’;   the   latter   are   described   as   having   separated   from   the   establishment  

and  being   ‘populists,  motivated  by   their   love   for   the  oppressed   Jewish  people  and  

their  desire  to  comfort  them  and  uplift  them  spiritually.’  This  ‘movement  of  mystics’  

taught   simple   Jews   ‘the   basics   of   Judaism   with   an   emphasis   on  mussar,’   studied  

Kabbalah   (doing   so   ‘underground’   to   avoid   the   suspicion   of   the   establishment  

rabbis),   and   ‘recruited   other   Jews   into   their   fold.’   Eliezer   and  Chana,   according   to  

                                                                                                               72 Both begin with a nearly identical ‘historical’ summary (based on earlier scholarship which has since been disproven) of the cultural, financial, and spiritual background of the Eastern European community in the century before the Besht’s birth, listing the Chmelnicki uprising of 1648, the ‘false messiahs’ Shabbetai Zvi and Jacob Frank, rampant poverty and anarchy, and the rabbinic elite’s exclusion of the poor and uneducated from Jewish life as key factors in understanding the innovations of the Besht (Hilsenrad, pp. 10-2, and Buxbaum, The Light and Fire of the Baal Shem Tov, pp. 11-5). 73 Elijah comes ‘to test them to see if they were hospitable even to someone who violated the Torah and mitzvot. It is one thing to warmly welcome those who adhere to one’s religious values; but it is another thing, and far more difficult, to warmly receive those who openly flout the Torah and its commandments’ (p. 17). Buxbaum explains that this tale ‘also explains [the Besht] and his mission,’ for he ‘followed in their footsteps and loved all Jews, even those who did not keep the tenets of Judaism fully’ (p. 18). Buxbaum also includes Hilsenrad’s addendum to Eliezer’s death-bed advice (p. 20). See also ‘His Birth and Infancy’ on pp. 18-9 and ‘Fulfilling His Father’s Words,’ p. 21. 74 Hilsenrad, Baal Shem Tov, p. 28.

  22  

Buxbaum,   ‘were   members   of   this   movement.’   Most   surprisingly   –   and   again  

presented  as  historical  fact  –  is  Buxbaum’s  claim  that    

The  movement  of  hidden  tzaddikim  was  always  led  by  a  tzaddik  who  was  a  baal  shem,  such  as  Rabbi  Eliyahu  Baal  Shem  of  Wurms  in  Germany,  then,  all  from   Poland,   his   successor,   Rabbi   Yoel   Baal   Shem   of   Zameshtesh;   his  successor,   Rabbi   Adam  Baal   Shem   of   Ropshitz;   and   finally,   his   successor,  Rabbi  Israel  Baal  Shem  Tov  of  Medzibuz.75      Indeed,  all  the  major  features  of  the  Besht  and  his  life  –  his  character  as  a  child,  

his  trademark  wanderings  in  the  forest  after  escaping  from  cheder,  his  mentorship  

under   strange   tzaddikim,   his   bar   mitzvah,   his   use   of   yihudim   and   repetition   of  

devotional   verses,   his   tutelage   under   Elijah   the   Prophet,   his   unique   approach   to  

prayer,  his   simple   faith   in  divine  providence,  his  work  as  an  assistant   teacher  and  

then   a   ritual   slaughterer,   his   love   of   and   esteem   for   the   common   Jew,   his   use   of  

stories,  his  hiding  of  his  esoteric  knowledge  and  his  betrothal,   the  reception  of  the  

secret  manuscripts   from   Adam   Baal   Shem,   his   travels   disguised   as   a   peasant,   his  

special  love  for  children  –  are  described  as  characteristic  of  the  movement  of  hidden  

tzaddikim  and  ascribed   to   their   influence.76  The  Besht  appears,   for   all   intents  and  

purposes,   as   simply   the   most   visible   and   charismatic   member   of   an   entire  

movement  of  Beshtian  characters.    

In   Buxbaum’s   case   we   are   particularly   fortunate   in   that,   as   a   conscientious  

reviver   of   Hasidic   storytelling   for   the   non-­‐Hasidic   world,   he   is   explicit   about   his  

approach   to   adapting   these   centuries-­‐old   stories.   His   book   Storytelling   and  

Spirituality   in   Judaism   contains   an   entire   section   dedicated   to   ‘Problems   and  

Resolutions   in   Storytelling,’   where   he   makes   several   comments   relevant   to   this  

study,  such  as  his  judment  that  Shivhei  haBesht  is  a  ‘prime  example  of  the  lower  end  

                                                                                                               75 Buxbaum, Light and Fire, p. 13-4, 17; cf. 103-4. It goes without saying that there is no historical evidence (nor could there be) for any such ‘movement of hidden tzaddikim’; on the contrary, Chone Shmeruk has already shown that Adam Baal Shem was a mythical figure based on tales from earlier centuries (‘The Stories About Adam Baal Shem and their Formulations in Shivhei haBesht and their Sources and Purpose’). The closest thing to Buxbaum’s notion is the tradition, dating to rabbinic times, of secretly righteous people who conceal their piety out of humility, but Buxbaum explicitly differentiates his purported movement from these individuals (Light and Fire, p. 13-4). 76 See Ibid., pp. 19, 24-33, 35-6, 40, 45-9, 65, 74, 79-80, 102.

  23  

of  [the]  scale’  of  Hasidic  stories,  ‘concerned  with  various  low  matters’  and  ultimately  

‘unworthy  of  the  holy  Baal  Shem  Tov,’77  a  sentiment  he  repeats  in  The  Light  and  Fire  

of   the  Baal  Shem  Tov.78  So   it   is  no  wonder  that  Buxbaum  ignored  Jaffe’s  version  of  

Eliezer’s  test  and  opted  for  Kattina’s.    

In  the  chapter  entitled  ‘Different  Story  Versions:  Issues  of  Truth  and  Falsehood,’  

he   writes   that   ‘Sometimes   tales   must   be   adapted   because   an   element   in   a   story  

might  not  be  understood  or  might  offend  a  particular  audience’  and  concludes  that  

‘Certainly   something   must   be   done.’   As   an   example   he   cites   the   denigrating  

treatment  of  women,  and  suggests  ‘changing  the  facts  and  adapting  the  story  to  the  

“need  of  the  hour”.’79  We  saw  in  his  nativity  tale  just  such  a  change  when  he  names  

the   Besht’s   mother   and   grants   her   equal   credit   in   meriting   the   Besht’s   birth80;  

Hilsenrad’s   relegation   of   her   to   a   supporting   role   saying   women’s   petitionery  

prayers  is  no  longer  acceptable  for  Buxbaum  or  his  audience.  I  would  include  in  this  

same  category  his  non-­‐judgmental  presentation  of  non-­‐observant  Jews.  

I   believe   Buxbaum’s   third   innovation   is   of   a   different   sort,   however.   As   he  

affirms,   a   ‘story  was   told   to   communicate   a   religious  message’   and,   in   addition   to  

those  messages  he  shares  with  his  predecessors  (such  as  the  holiness  of  the  Besht,  

his  being  a  model  of  piety,  and  the  need  to  welcome  those  who  have  left  observance)  

he  has  his  own,  intimately  tied  to  what  I  believe  to  be  Buxbaum’s  purpose  in  writing  

his   books.  His   constant   focus   on   the   secret  movement   of   hidden   tzaddikim   is   not  

based  on  new  historical  data  about  the  time  of  the  Besht,  but  seems  rather  driven  by  

his  own  desire  to  create  such  a  movement  today.    

Buxbaum  clearly  admires  the  Hasidic  movement  and  even  models  himself  on  its  

own  storytellers  and  collectors,81  but  he  cannot  join  that  movement,  in  part  at  least  

                                                                                                               77 Ibid., p. 127. 78 Ibid., p. xxiii. 79 Buxbaum, Storytelling and Spirituality, p. 141. 80 He is also explicit in his hope that from his stories ‘fellow Jews [will] learn to imitate [the Besht’s] holy ways. The Jewish people needs heroes, both men and women, to aim for the highest’ (Light and Fire, p. 7, emphasis mine). 81 Even to the extent of borrowing the traditional language and format of the authors’ introductions, against all contemporary convention, for example, in this direct address to his readers: ‘Precious Jews! Brothers and sisters! There are those who say that the fire of Jacob has been extinguished…I, Yitzhak son of Meyer and Charna, deny it. The spark of holiness in each

  24  

because  of  his  obvious  universalist   tendencies.82  Likewise,   it   seems   to  me  he  does  

not  hope  to  create  an  actual  movement  of  his  own  on  the  model  of  Hasidism  or  more  

recent   ones   such   as   ‘neo-­‐Hasidism’   and   the   Renewal   movement,   instead   seeing  

himself  as  an  independent  operator:  in  an  interview  he  explains,  ‘I  am  traditionally-­‐

oriented   but   radical.   I   am   not   affiliated   and   no   longer   identify   myself  

denominationally.  I  sometimes  call  myself  a  "spiritual  Jew".’  He  takes  a  dim  view  of  

denominations,   and   instead   of   creating   a   new   one   he   advises   ‘conserving   the  

tradition   to   the   best   of   our   ability   and   trying   to   create   new   forms   to   help   in   our  

spiritual  journey.’83  

Buxbaum   identifies   the   central   challenge   of   contemporary   Judaism   as  

assimilation,   and   claims   that   the   solution   is   ‘a   true   revival.’   Such   a   revival,   he  

explains,   requires   ‘people  who   can   reestablish   a   link   to   the   divine…who   have   the  

holy   spirit,   as   had   the   prophets   and   the   great   hasidic   rebbes…people   to   aspire   to  

holiness  and  to  bring  down  holy  wisdom  from  heaven  and   lead.’  His  mission   is   ‘to  

encourage   people  who   have   this   potential   to   fulfill   it!’84   Such   people,   rather   than  

forming   a   new   denomination   or   some   recognized   movement,   could   best   be  

described  as   ‘hidden  tzaddikim,’   joined  together  in  some  sense  as  a   ‘secret  society’  

and  ‘underground  movement’  by  their  common  goals.

                                                                                                               Jew will never disappear (God-forbid)! The Jewish people will soon arise once again in all their glory, to glorify the living God. May it be His will’ (ibid., p. 6); his use of the standard declaration of humility and request for forgiveness: ‘I possess no such literary ability. Therefore, I beg you to judge my efforts with a good eye’; and, most surprisingly, his claim that ‘Whoever reads [this book] will be impelled to love God, the Torah, the Jewish people and all people, God-willing…The author promises whoever buys this book that he will receive blessings and whoever keeps it in his home that he will be protected from harm’ (ibid., p. 7). A perusal of authors’ introductions from Shivhei haBesht on will reveal exactly the same motifs in the same language (except for the promise that the reader will love ‘all people,’ which would have been shocking in a Hasidic work from previous centuries). 82 In addition to those remarks cited, he concludes his ‘Author’s Prayer’ with the request that his book ‘transmit a powerful blessing to carry you to the goal of a human being on this earth, the purpose for which we were all created, to unite in love with the One and Only One and with all humanity’ (ibid., emphasis mine), and on more than one occasion he explicitly welcomes non-Hasidim and even non-Jews into his community of readers and storytellers (Light and Fire, p. 7; Storytelling and Spirituality, p. 209). He stresses his relationships with people from across ‘the Jewish spectrum’ and mentions his ‘broad Jewish sympathies and also broad ecumenical sympathies’ (www.jewishspirit.com/introducing_myself.html). 83 Buxbaum, ‘Interview,’ retrieved 15.9.2013 from his website, jewishspirit.com. 84 Ibid.

  25  

 

CONCLUSION  

Per   Boyarin’s   claim,   the   four   authors   considered   here   did   much   more   than  

simply   reflect   their   respective   historical   realities   and   cultural   contexts   –   they  

actively  promoted  a  particular  values  paradigm  through  a  particular  presentation  of  

the   Besht   and   his   father.   In   a   world   of   competing   worldviews   –   between  

communities  which  claimed   to   follow  the  Besht  as  much  as  against   those  who  did  

not  –   they  proposed  certain   readings  of   the  Besht   through  his  nativity   tale,  which  

responded   directly   to   other   readings   as   well   as   to   societal   shifts   and   cultural  

changes.  

The   central   questions   in   Boyarin’s   book   ask   after   the   nature   of   the  

rabbinic    views  of   the  body  and  their  role   in   issues  of   identity,  gender  roles  

and  relationships,  models  of  leadership,  and  relations  with  those  outside  the  

rabbinic  community.  I  would  identify  the  central  question  being  addressed  by  

these  four  nativity  tales  as,  What   is  the  archetype  of  the  tsadik?  Around  this  

core   question   revolve   the   implicit   ones   regarding   the   proper   relationship  

with  non-­‐observant  Jews  and  non-­‐Jews.  So,  in  the  same  way  that  ‘the  pattern  

of  Rabbi  Akiva’s  marriage  and  particularly   the  shepherd-­‐ewe  relationship   is  

being  encoded  in  [the  Talmud]  as  a  marriage  ideal  for  Jews,’85  the  archetype  

of  the  tsadik  (whether  understood  as  the  leader  to  follow,  the  model  to  aspire  

to,  or  both)  is  ‘encoded’  in  the  nativity  tales  in  the  character  of  Eliezer,  while  

proper  relationships  towards  non-­‐observant  Jews  and  non-­‐Jews  are  modeled  

in   Eliezer’s   relations   with   the   disguised   Elijah   on   the   one   hand   and   the  

general,  the  king,  the  princess,  and/or  the  bandits  on  the  other.  

So  Israel  Jaffe  draws  Eliezer  according  to  the  outlines  of  the  tsadik  in  the  

model   and   writings   of   his   own   rebbe,   Shneur   Zalman   of   Liadi:   a   spiritual  

guide   who   preaches   withdrawal   from   the   material   world   and   unbending  

commitment   to   Jewish   tradition,   eschews   miracles   for   the   power   of   the                                                                                                                  85  Ibid.,  p.  153.  

  26  

intellect,   and   suffers   at   the   hands   of   the   non-­‐Jewish   world,   especially   the  

rulers.  What’s  more,   this   guide   is   an   official   Jewish   leader   (‘Rabbi   Eliezer’)  

who  grants  his  son,  the  Besht,  rabbinic  lineage.  This  paradigm  is  based  on  the  

Biblical  model   of   Joseph  who,   after  millenia  of   serving   as   the   symbol  of   the  

hidden   tsadik   has   been   recruited   for   the   newly   revealed   –   even  

institutionalized  –  Hasidic  tsadik.  

Jacob   Kattina,   reacting   precisely   against   such   institutionalization,  

replaces   the   entire   drama   of   captivity   and   the   Joseph   frame   with   a   simple  

morality   tale,   in   which   Eliezer   merits   the   birth   of   the   Besht   through   his  

immaculate  sensitivity  and  kindness  towards  the  poor.  His  merit  is  precisely  

in   forgetting   that   he   is   a   tsadik   and   instead   putting   himself   fully   in   the  

position  of  the  common  Jew.  

Zalman  Aryeh  Hilsenrad  combines  the  relevant  features  of  each  story  and  

adds  his  own  to  both  address  a  new  audience,  20th  century  American   Jewry  

on  the  edge  of  assimilation,  and  to  promote  a  new  definition  of  the  tsadik,  and  

of  the  hasid  who  tries  to  follow  his  example,  as  one  whose  single  purpose  is  to  

draw  Jews  back  to  Torah  observance,  and  who  brings  no  judgment  of  them  to  

that  mission.  This  new  definition  includes  a  place  for  women  in  a  supporting  

role.  What’s  more,   the   tsadik   is   a   prophet   to   the  non-­‐Jewish  world   at   large,  

preaching  universal  ethical  values  such  as  non-­‐violence.  

Finally,   Yitzhak  Buxbaum   levels   the   playing   field,   so   to   speak,   retaining  

the  idea  of  the  tsadik  as  inspiration  but  welcoming  all  inspired  Jews,  men  and  

women   equally,   into   the   ‘secret   society   of   hidden   tzadikkim.’   He   even  

welcomes   non-­‐Jews,   at   least   into   the   relationship  with   the   tzadikkim   if   not  

into  their  society.  

Regarding  the  status  of  wives  in  rabbinic  society,  Boyarin  writes  that  ‘we  

will   not   be   able   to   understand   it   or   its   power   to   persuade   without   taking  

  27  

seriously  the  cultural  context  in  which  it  was  generated.’86  I  would  make  the  

same  claim  regarding  the  image  of  the  tsadik  and  the  view  of  non-­‐observant  

Jews  and  non-­‐Jews  in  ‘Hasidic’  society,  which  can  only  be  fully  understood  in  

light  of   the  theoretical  writings  we  have   ‘co-­‐read’  along  with  the  tales.   If  we  

substitute  ‘narrative’  for  ‘aggada’  and  ‘theoretical  writings’  for  ‘halakha,’  then  

we   may   let   Boyarin   make   the   claim   for   us:   instead   of   reading   aggada   as  

background   for   halakha,   ‘the   halakha   can   be   read   as   background   and  

explanation   for   the   way   that   the   rabbinic   biographies   are   constructed.’87  

Certainly  we  cannot  say,  after  reading  these  widely  differing  versions  of   the  

nativity   tale,   that   they   are   based   on   historical   reality,   except   in   the   sense  

proposed   by   Eva   Cantarella   in   her   treatment   of   Homeric   epics,   cited   by  

Boyarin:  ‘men  learned  from  the  epos  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  model  of  the  

hero…   It   is   in   this   sense   that   the   Iliad   and   the   Odyssey   are   considered  

historical  documents.’88  

Again  speaking  of  the  rabbinic  treatments  of  the  romance  between  Akiva  

and  Rachel,  Boyarin  writes  that  the  different  versions  are  ‘explicitly  designed  

to   provide   a   utopian   solution   to   the   enormous   moral   and   halakhic  

contradictions   involved,’89   but   that   ‘The   Talmud   itself   shows   us   the   cracks  

just  under  the  surface  of  the  utopian  solution.’90  Likewise,  I  would  argue,  are  

the   different   versions   of   the   Besht’s   nativity   tale   designed   to   provide  

solutions  to  the  moral  and  social  contradictions  each  successive  author  saw  in  

the  tale  as  he  found  it,  and  to  promote  a  particular  image  of  the  tsadik  as  the  

ideal  leader  and,  along  with  it,  an  image  of  the  ideal  Hasidism  and/or  Judaism  

as   a   whole.   These   ideals   are   not   only   reflections   of   contemporary   social  

                                                                                                               86  Ibid.,  p.  155.  87 Ibid., p. 15. 88  Ibid.,  p.  155.  89  Ibid.  90  Ibid.,  p.  158.  

  28  

reality   but   conscious,   often   forceful,   additions   to   the   ‘discourse   of   society’  

occurring  around  the  central  questions  treated  within.  

 

 

  29  

Works Cited

Primary Sources (18th-19th Century) by Title

Beit Rabbi, Hayyim Meir Heilman, Barditshev 1902.

Keter Shem Tov, Aharon of Apt, Zolkiev, 1794.

Korban heAni, Jacob Kattina, Lemberg 1872.

Or haMeir, Ze’ev Volf of Zhitomir, Korets 1798.

Rahamei haAv, Jacob Kattina, Tchernovitz 1865.

Shivhei haBesht, Israel Jaffe, Kopys 1814.

Shivhei haRav, Michael Levi Rodkinson, Lemberg 1870.

Tiferet Uziel, Uziel Meizlish, Warsaw 1863.

Other Sources by Author

Amshalem, Jeffrey G, ‘Why Do You Not Tell Tales in My Praise Also? The Image of Dov Ber,

the Maggid of Mezritsh, in the Earliest Hasidic Tales,’ Kabbalah 31, 2013 (forthcoming).

Ben-Amos, Dan, and Jerome R. Mintz, In Praise of the Baal Shem Tov [Shivhei ha-Besht]: The

Earliest Collection of Legends about the Founder of Hasidism (New York, 1970).

Boyarin, Daniel. Carnal Israel: Reading Sex in Talmudic Culture (Berkeley, 1993).

Buxbaum, Yitshak, ‘Interview,’ Jewishspirit.com, retrieved 15.9.2013.

___, ‘Introducing Myself,’ Jewishspirit.com, retrieved 15.9.2013.

___, The Light and Fire of the Baal Shem Tov (New York, 2005).

___, Storytelling and Spirituality in Judaism (Northvale, NJ, 1994).

Dan, Joseph, The Hasidic Story (Heb.) (Jerusalem, 1975).

Dinur, Benzion, In the Turning of the Generations (Heb.) (Jerusalem, 1972).

Dubnow, Simon, History of Hasidism (Heb.) (Tel Aviv, 1931).

Etkes, Immanuel, Ba’al haTanya: Shneur Zalman of Liadi and the Beginnings of Habad

Hasidism (Heb.) (Jerusalem 2012).

___. The Besht: Magician, Mystic, and Leader, Saadya Sternberg, trans. (Waltham 2005).

___. ‘The Zaddik: The Interrelationship between Religious Doctrine and Social Organization,’ in

Ada Rapoport-Albert (ed.), Hasidism Reappraised (Oxford 1997).

Ehrlich, Avrum, The Messiah of Brooklyn (Jersey City, 2004).

Fishkoff, Sue, The Rebbe’s Army (New York, 2003).

Green, Arthur, trans. and ed., Light of the Eyes/Upright Practices: Menahem Nahum of

Chernobyl (New York 1982).

  30  

___, ‘The Zaddiq as Axis Mundi in Later Judaism,’ in Lawrence Fine (ed.), Essential Papers on

Kabbalah (New York 1995), pp. 291-314.

Grözinger, K. E., ‘The Source Value of the Basic Rescensions of Shivhei haBesht,’ in Ada

Rapoport-Albert (ed.), Hasidism Reappraised (Oxford 1997), pp. 354-66.

Harris, Ben, ‘A Short History of Jewish Intermarriage,’ Jewish Telegraph Agency, August 8,

2013, jta.org, retrieved 29.9.2013.

Heilman, Samuel and Menachem Friedman, The Rebbe: The Life and Afterlife of Menachem

Mendel Schneerson (Princeton 2012).

Hilsenrad, Zalman Aryeh, The Baal Shem Tov: A Brief Biography of Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov,

the Founder of Hasidus (Brooklyn, 1967).

‘International Council of Jewish Women told that Intermarriage is Threat in West,’ Editorial,

Jewish Telegraphic Agency, June 4, 1969, jta.org, retrieved 29.9.2013.

Mark, Zvi, ‘Dybbuk and Devekut in the Shivhe ha-Besht: Toward a Phenomenology of Madness

in Early Hasidism,’ in Matt Goldish (ed.), Spirit Possession in Judaism (Detroit 2003), pp.

257-301.

Nigal, Gedalia, ‘New Light on the Hasidic Tale and its Sources,’ in Ada Rapoport-Albert (ed.),

Hasidism Reappraised (Oxford 1997), pp. 345-53.

___. ‘A Primary Source for Hasidic Tales: on Sefer Keter Shem Tov and its Sources’ (Heb.), Sinai

79 (1976), pp. 132-46.

Petrovsky-Shtern, Yohanan, ‘“Hasidei de’ara and Hasidei dekokhvaya”: Two Trends in Modern

Jewish Historiography,’ AJS Review 32:1 (2008), pp. 141-167.

Rapoport-Albert, Ada, ‘Hasidism After 1772: Structural Continuity and Change,’ in Ada

Rapoport-Albert (ed.), Hasidism Reappraised (London, 1997), pp. 76-140.

Reiner, Elchanan, ‘“Shivhei haBesht”: Transmission, Editing, and Printing’ (Heb.), in

Proceedings of the Eleventh World Congress of Jewish Studies 11, 3 (Jerusalem, 1994), pp.

145-52.

___, ‘Historiography and Methodology in Folklore’ (Heb.), Zion 65, 2 (2000), pp. 209-18.

Rubinstein, Avraham, ‘The Revelation Stories in Shivhei haBesht,’ Alei Sefer 6-7 (1979), pp.

157-86.

Schneerson, Menachem M., ‘The House is On Fire and Our Children Are Inside. Correspondence

by Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe,’ Chabad.org, retrieved

22.9.2013.

___, ‘What’s Wrong with Intermarriage? Correspondence by Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson,

the Lubavitcher Rebbe,’ Chabad.org, retrieved 22.9.2013.

  31  

Schochet, Jacob Immanuel, Chassidic Dimensions (Brooklyn 1990).

Scholem, Gershom, ‘The Historical Figure of the Besht’ (Heb.), Molad Av-Elul 1960, pp. 144-5.

Shmeruk, Chone, ‘The Stories About Adam Baal Shem and their Formulations in Shivhei haBesht

and their Sources and Purpose’ (Heb.), Zion 28 (1963), pp. 86-105.

‘Youth: The Hippies,’ Time Magazine, July 07, 1967.

Zinberg, Israel, A History of Jewish Literature, 9 vols., Bernard Martin, trans. (Cleveland 1972-

8).