Martin Buber aroused passionate, often contradictory opinions, both regarding his personality and his thought. Gershom Schocken, editor of Haaretz , said that one day he was walking with S. Y. Agnon: "We were walking around Talpiot and I asked him what his attitude was towards Buber. Agnon stopped in his walk and said: 'I want to tell you something. There are people about whom you have to decide once: do you love them or do you hate them. I decided to love Buber.'" Buber's philosophical and theological writings, including the famous I and Thou , have contributed greatly to religious and Jewish thought, as well as to biblical studies, political theory, and Zionist thought. In this new biography, Paul Mendes-Flor situates Buber's legacy at the crossroads between the intellectual and cultural life of German Jewry and European life in the first half of the twentieth century. This is the first full biography of the groundbreaking modern Jewish philosopher. The book is organized around several key events in his life, such as his mother suddenly abandoning him when he was three years old—a formative trauma that left Buber with a lasting sense of sensitivity to the fragility of human relationships and the need to nurture them with what he would later call "dialogical attention."

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.

The Two Mekhiltot on the Jethro Portion (Exodus 18) is, in a sense, a complement to Menahem Kahana's previous book, The Two Mekhiltot on the Amalek Portion . The book is based on new text editions of Mekhilta d'Rabbi Ishmael and Mekhilta d'Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai on the Jethro portion. It includes a systematic and detailed commentary on the exegeses of the Mekhiltot, shedding new light on many exegeses – their literal meaning, their real and historical context, and the worldviews reflected in them. The book reviews the previous editions of The Two Mekhiltot on the Jethro Portion and presents the important contribution of fragments from the Cairo Geniza that were discovered after the previous editions were published. It compares the traditions of the two Mekhiltot in their language, style, and content, and establishes the insight that in the Jethro portion, as in the Amalek portion, the tradition of Mekhilta d'Rabbi Ishmael generally takes precedence.

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.

The economy of symbolic goods is at the heart of Pierre Bourdieu's sociology. In Le marché des biens symboliques , published in 1971, Bourdieu lays the foundation for his theory of the conditions of production and distribution of cultural products. This text is of crucial importance for understanding his later writings on artistic fields and cultural practices. Against the illusion that artworks are independent from social conditions, Bourdieu reminds us that these are the results of a production process that involves not only the individual artist or writer, but a whole system of intermediaries (galleries, publishers, etc.) and institutions of consecration (criticism, prizes, academies, etc.). However, in contrast to the Marxist approach, which reduces works to a "reflection" of class relations, Bourdieu argues that the fields of cultural production enjoy relative autonomy. In this text, Bourdieu constructs the concept of the field for the first time systematically, using Max Weber's concept of legitimacy and his sociology of religion: the symbolic value of cultural works is based on trust and the accumulation of symbolic capital. Bourdieu also combines the concept of the field here for the first time with other concepts that he was developing then - "reproduction," "symbolic violence," "habitus." Drawing on art historians and on examples from empirical research he was conducting, the text also proposes a socio-historical study of the conditions for the emergence of the fields of art and literature as relatively autonomous worlds.

In The Taste of Hidden Things Sara Sviri weaves a tapestry in which Sufi motifs and images are highlighted: the perfume of Attar's and Rumi's poetry, the boldness of Ibn al-Arabi's mystical speculation, the ecstatic experiences and dreams of old and modern seekers, and the richness of the Naqshbandi masters, past and present. A special place is given to al-Hakim at-Tirmidhi, a ninth century mystic from Central Asia. Many passages from his work, including his wife’s teaching dreams, are published here for the first time in Hebrew.

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.

Iyyun was established in 1945 as a Hebrew philosophical periodical by Martin Buber, S. H. Bergman and Julius Guttmann and is published by the S. H. Bergman Center for Philosophical Studies of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Iyyun has been rebranded, and as part of this renewal a number of thematic issues are published, aiming to advance contemporary philosophical discourse, primarily in Hebrew, to indicate new paths of thought and lines of original research, and to build bridges between academia and the broader public.‍ Iyyun seeks to give expression to a wide spectrum of writers, and is committed to cultural and ideological pluralism, scholarly excellence, high quality writing, and vitality of thought. This in the belief that philosophical thought has a formative role in local culture, and could be influential in shaping the sociopolitical sphere. The articles in this volume: On the Possibility of Universal Love | Sharon Krishek The Creative Force of Desire in Classical Indian Thought | Nir Feinberg Modality and the Limits of Sense in Spinoza’s Metaphysics | Yogev Zusman A Kantian Approach to Aesthetic Methodology: 'Manner' instead of 'Method' | Moran Godess-Riccitelli Finding One’s Way in Language in Wittgenstein’s Later Thought | Oren Roz Film and the Flow of Life: Toward the Non-Human | Orna Raviv Naïveté and Liberation in the Philosophy of Education: A Conversation with Zeev Degani | Ori Rotlevy Review Probing the Discontents of Identity On Jacob Golomb’s Identity and Its Discontents | Warren Zev Harvey Notes on Contributors

The book offers a new reading of Israeli prose written primarily in the 1980s and 1990s. During these decades, Hebrew literature freed itself from the aspiration to address a general (male) audience and began cultivating a new, more diverse readership. This audience was constructed through the direct address of literary texts to their readers. For women, who are often culturally directed to identify with the position of the (seemingly) passive listener of the story rather than the protagonist, this strategy offers a vital mode of engagement. Through close readings of contemporary Hebrew literature—including works by Orly Castel-Bloom, Yoel Hoffmann, Lea Aini, Yuval Shimoni, and Eda Zoritte—the book reclaims this position and demonstrates how it can be both productive and active.

This is a groundbreaking book in the field of inner biblical allusion. Using methodologies from the field of literary studies the book examines the Song Ha'azinu (Deut 32) and the Book of Isaiah and uncovers the fascinating connections between the two. The recognition of this relationship sheds new light on the subject of inner biblical allusion, the Song Ha'azinu and the Book of Isaiah.

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.