Anti-Semitism emerged in the late nineteenth century as a political movement that swept the masses. It presented a worldview in which a cohesive tribe called "the Jews" conspired to rule the earth by controlling international capital markets, trade, and money lending, while at the same time working to destroy—through revolutionary plots—the very capitalist system it supposedly controlled. It is easy to draw a straight line from this paranoid thinking at the turn of the century to the murderous delusions of fascism in the twentieth century. But, argues Laura Engelstein, the line was not straight. Anti-Semitism as a political weapon had its opponents, even in Eastern Europe, where its consequences were particularly terrible. Jewish leaders who joined forces in various countries and in cooperation with non-Jewish public figures worked for the rights of Jews and in firm opposition to persecution and acts of violence against Jews. In Tsarist and Soviet Russia, as well as in Poland and Ukraine – regions notorious in the West as centers of hatred for Jews – there were also those who saw anti-Semitism as a harmful burden on society and their movement. In the introduction to the book, Engelstein describes the different ways in which Jews were treated through the ways in which one Jew, Maurice Greenfeld, the author's grandfather, dealt with the upheavals of World War I, the Russian Revolution, and the civil war that followed, including the expressions of hostility and sympathy he encountered throughout his life. In the following chapters, she reveals the – sometimes surprising – positions of Russian liberals such as Prince Sergei Urusov, Ukrainian leader Symon Petliura, and Polish émigré in Paris Andrzej Bobkowski. The chapters on the inevitable rise of anti-Semitism thus examine the complex reasons why leaders and intellectuals renounced pogroms and incitement against the Jewish population. Engelstein added a short introduction to the Hebrew edition of the book.

Since its creation, the Babylonian Talmud has stood at the center of the Jewish intellectual canon and the heart of Torah study. Despite its wide circulation and enduring significance, it remains an elusive work to define. It is a religious text, yet contains little theology; it is deeply legal, yet it is hardly concerned with practical rulings; it is framed as a commentary on the Mishnah, yet frequently departs into independent expansive discussions. What, then, is this composition? How was it constructed? How did it come to occupy such a central place in Jewish tradition? And how has it been interpreted over the centuries? The first part of The Talmud: A History of Learning is devoted to analyzing the Talmud itself—dissecting its constituent parts and exploring their formation, purpose, and historical context. The second part turns to the reception of the Talmud: the ways in which it has been read, studied, and reinterpreted from its redaction through the present day. The title of the book reflects this dual focus: it addresses both the internal processes of learning that gave rise to the Talmudic text, and the external history of its study and the discourses it has generated from late antiquity to the present.

Among the medieval liturgical manuscripts from Ashkenaz, the Nuremberg Mahzor takes a special place. Its size, its extraordinary selection of piyyutim and piyyut commentaries, and its lavish decoration that differs from the model used for many mahzorim in southern Germany make it a spectacular object. This aroused curiosity and interest, as reflected by those who are known to have viewed the manuscript, including Emperor Leopold I (1658–1705), who visited the Nuremberg Municipal Library in 1658, and several 17th and 18th century Christian scholars who wrote about the treasures of Nuremberg. In the 19th century, several Jewish scholars studied the manuscript in Nuremberg, among them Leopold Zunz from Berlin and Rabbi Isaak Meier Eppstein from Jerusalem, culminating in the detailed study and description by Nuremberg rabbi Bernhard Ziemlich (1884–1886). Salman Schocken had hoped to acquire the manuscript already in 1934 and succeeded in adding it to his collection in 1951. The fact that during its 56-year stay at the Schocken Library in Jerusalem the Mahzor was rarely exhibited and not easily accessible to scholars and the wider audience shrouded the manuscript in mystery.

In the past, prayers in the synagogue were adorned with many liturgical poems, piyyuṭim, in all the various Jewish communities, both on the major festivals and on many Sabbaths over the course of the year. Manuscripts preserve thousands of piyyuṭim, only some of which are familiar today, and some of which have never been published until our generation. This book collects more than two hundred piyyuṭim, which the Jews of Ashkenaz (German-speaking lands) and Northern France used to recite on wedding Sabbaths and Sabbaths on which circumcisions occurred. Dozens of poets wrote piyyuṭim for these festive occasions. Most of the piyyuṭim were written by German or French poets (between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries), but some of them were written by poets in the Land of Israel, Italy, or Spain. Some of the compositions were written in honor of lifecycle celebrations occurring in the families of the poets themselves. Aside from the major popular genres of Ashkenazic piyyuṭ (yoẓer, ofan, and zulat, in the blessings surrounding the morning Shema), the corpus in this volume also contains representatives of many unusual genres of piyyuṭ; this prominently demonstrates that on Sabbaths of family celebrations, the poets of Ashkenaz and Northern France wanted to include piyyuṭim in many different positions in the liturgy, more varied than usual. Especially prominent is the large unit of piyyuṭim that were recited surrounding the bridegroom’s ‘aliyya to the Torah: reshut (“invitation”) poems for the bridegroom and his groomsmen to go up for their ‘aliyyot, songs in honor of the bridegroom after his ‘aliyya, poems surrounding the reading of Ve’avraham Zaqen (a passage from the Torah that is read in honor of the bridegroom — today only in Sephardic synagogues, but in the past also in Ashkenazic), and Mi Shebberakh poets blessing the bridegroom after his ‘aliyya. Some of the poems are in Aramaic. The book includes also piyyuṭim that were recited (not specifically on the Sabbath) at the actual wedding and circumcision rituals, and piyyuṭim designated for the Grace After Meals of the festive meals in honor of the wedding and circumcision. The Ashkenazic poets were extremely learned, and they included large amounts of material from the lore (aggada) of the Talmud and Midrash. The late Prof. Jonah Fraenkel was the one that gathered the piyyuṭim for the Sabbaths of the year recited in the Ashkenazic and Northern French communities, as a continuation of his series of Ashkenazic maḥzorim for the Three Festivals and those for the High Holidays edited by Dr. Daniel Goldschmidt. This volume of Piyyuṭim for Wedding and Circumcision Sabbaths is the first in a series whose purpose is to publish all piyyuṭim for all Sabbaths that were recited in the lands of Ashkenaz and Northern France. Dr. Gabriel Wasseman, a scholar of piyyuṭ, completed Fraenkel’s work on this volume, indicating textual variants from many dozens of manuscripts, and writing a detailed commentary on the piyyuṭim. He also wrote a long introduction to the volume, which, among other things, offers a birds’-eye view of all the piyyuṭim, organized into their specific genres, and traces the development of the customs of reciting these piyyuṭim in the various communities over the course of centuries. Avraham Fraenkel added chapters to the introduction, which present a description of the customs of weddings and of circumcisions in Ashkenaz and Northern France, on the basis of books of minhagim (“customs”) and prayerbooks from the Ashkenazic and Northern French communities.

A letter written during the destruction of the communities of Galicia in the spring of 1943 by Solomea Ochs, née Luft, found among the possessions of a Wehrmacht general and later featured in an exhibition in contemporary Berlin, transforms in the hands of historian Ram Ben-Shalom into a wide-ranging documentary novel. Solomea's letter, in her own handwriting, describes not only the horrors of the massacre and extermination but also touches on the depths of humiliation and devastation felt by the Jews kneeling before their killers. This is the voice of mighty force of nature that has been silenced; something stronger than poetry and lamentation, even if it will surely be remembered alongside the great Jewish laments of the Middle Ages and Bialik's "Upon the Slaughter." Ram Ben-Shalom discovered that this letter is none other than a letter from his aunt to her family before her murder, and that the letter was kept in the drawer of his father's desk at their home in Tel Aviv. From here, a complex search journey emerged, with surprising dimensions that accumulate into a picture of distinctly epic proportions. With craftsmanship, Ben-Shalom weaves a story that is at once a poetics of life, a cultural critique, and an unparalleled delicate analysis of the depths of the selfhood of Israeli Judaism.

Sabbatian Songs of Faith: Ritual, Community, and Interreligious Encounters in the Late Ottoman Empire unveils the hidden world of the Ma’aminim—followers of the 17th-century Jewish messianic figure, Sabbatai Tzvi. After Tzvi’s dramatic conversion to Islam in 1666, many of his followers returned to mainstream Judaism. However, a dedicated group followed in his footsteps, converted to Islam, and established a new path, blending Sabbatian, Jewish, and Islamic elements within a distinct Ottoman-Sephardi cultural framework. For centuries, the Ma’aminim maintained secrecy, forming distinct communities (known as the Dönme) and playing a multifaceted role in Jewish and Ottoman histories. This book sheds new light on their social life and esoteric traditions through a comprehensive, interdisciplinary analysis of previously mostly unexamined mystical manuscripts in Ladino, Hebrew, and Ottoman Turkish. It explores their sacred songs, radical theology, rituals, folklore, and musical practices as reflections of communal reality and developments. By placing the Ma’aminim within a broader historical and cross-cultural perspective, Sabbatian Songs of Faith offers fresh insights into religious transformation, intercommunal exchanges, and the interplay between faith, ritual, and popular culture in the late Ottoman world and beyond.

Polin , established in 1986 by the Institute for Polish-Jewish Studies, has acquired a well-deserved reputation for publishing authoritative material on all aspects of Polish Jewry. Contributions are drawn from many disciplines—history, politics, religious studies, literature, linguistics, sociology, art, and architecture—and from a wide variety of viewpoints. Polin is published by the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization. It is sponsored by the Institute of Polish–Jewish Studies, which is an associated institute of the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies and of the Department of Hebrew and Jewish Studies, University College London, and by the American Association for Polish–Jewish Studies, which is linked with the Department of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies, Brandeis University.

The Other War articulates the anatomy of World War II. For that purpose, it takes an unusual perspective: instead of following the conventional horizontal historical axis, from Nazi Germany eastwards and westwards, it directs the view from the global south to the north. Both axes, the continental and the colonial, were, of course, not disconnected; to expose their intersections, this book lays the focus on Jewish Palestine. The focus on Palestine, as part of a broad British defense parameter protecting the Indian subcontinent, reveals the entanglement of two conflicts: the European war, that escalated into a world war, and the Jewish-Arab-British war over Palestine. In their discreet competition, each of these conflicts remained, for its rival, a foreign war.

This book examines the overt and covert engagement with the immigrant experience in American cinema in the decade preceding World War II. It presents the story of a gallery of creators, mostly Jewish, who had emigrated to the United States, some by force and others by choice. An examination of the films they created reveals their attitudes towards their countries of origin, the nation that gave them a new home, and the Jewish identity they were forced to rediscover. This Jewish identity was at times a burden, sometimes a painful reminder of their past, and at other times a source of great inspiration and hope.

With the social and cultural upheavals of early modern Europe, rabbis were constantly struggling to preserve Jewish tradition. Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi (1658—1718), the independent-minded chief rabbi of Amsterdam, came to be regarded as one of the leading halakhic authorities of this tumultuous era. The battles he waged changed Jewish practice in his lifetime and came to define rabbinic norms in the decades that followed, with relevance to the present day. The challenges for a leading rabbi in a time of ferment were many. With advances in communication and the early stirrings of political emancipation in Jewish and secular society, how could one establish halakhic authority? How were rabbis to navigate the new reality in which mystical texts—once the exclusive province of the elite—became accessible to the masses? As geographical boundaries shifted and cultural barriers crumbled, how could one build a bridge between the worlds of Ashkenaz and Sepharad? How were the keepers of tradition meant to respond to the religious laxity that accompanied acculturation? And how could the religious establishment engage sectarians in general, and crypto-Sabbatians in particular? Hakham Tsevi didn’t always win the battles he fought, but his arguments have endured. Products of his fierce independence, some of his responsa have attained near-canonical status., Today’s halakhic discussions of such contemporary issues as brain death and artificial intelligence often begin with the words he committed to posterity. Hundreds of years after his death, Hakham Tsevi and his work remain at the frontier of halakhic discourse.

The book relates the story of the Jewish movement in the Soviet Union in the 1970s and 1980s as perceived by its participants. On the basis of interviews with almost 300 activists from over 60 cities, it portrays the movement's evolution in all its facets. It examines the activist's personality and background and the path he or she took prior to becoming active, including the presentation of documents to the authorities, that branded him or her as a social pariah and potential traitor. The book discusses the emergence of a refusenik community that enabled their struggle with the all-powerful regime to leave the country while maintaining a "normal" existence for an unpredictable duration. Two chapters view the variety of instruments to which the activists had recourse as they developed the tactics and strategy of that struggle, while three final chapters review specific topics that were an inseparable part of the movement's story. They cover the confrontation with the KGB – the persistent shadowing, interrogations, arrests, trials and camps; the return to Judaism in the search for roots and identity; and the movement's links with the Jewish and non-Jewish world outside.

The book traces the changes that have taken place in the world views of Josef Zelkowicz, a modern Jewish intellectual, after he was imprisoned for more than four years in the Lodz ghetto under extreme living conditions. The book follows Zelkowicz and a fascinating group of intellectuals who struggled to understand life in the ghetto. The book presents the events as perceived by those intellectuals at the time of their occurrence. The readers get to know Zelkowicz's work through stories that were translated into Hebrew for the first time and are included in the book.