At the Association for Jewish Studies Annual Meeting in 2018 I delivered a kind-of “state of the field” talk with some reflections on applying digital humanities to the study of Jews and Judaism in antiquity (really, Late Antiquity). I am still working on this paper and will eventually post it, but in the interim I thought it would be useful to make the handout available here, in the form of a page that can be updated. Please contact me if you know of other useful sites!
Jews
What is Wrong with Charging Interest?
I recently published a short piece on Exodus 22:24, normally taken as the prohibition on charging interest. It appears at thetorah.com, and is “reprinted” below. My own interest in this topic (pun intended) grows out of my work on the collection I’m editing, Judaism and the Economy: A Sourcebook, which is forthcoming from Routledge.
What Is Wrong with Charging Interest?
What Is Wrong with Charging Interest?
The Torah prohibits lending to poor people with interest. Why did Jewish law include business loans and how did this effect the law’s original purpose?
Prof. Michael L. Satlow
The Law
The Torah’s earliest collection of laws, referred to by scholars as the Covenant Collection, contains a prohibition to lend money with interest to fellow Israelites:
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שמות כב:כד אִם כֶּ֣סֶף תַּלְוֶ֣ה אֶת עַמִּ֗י אֶת הֶֽעָנִי֙ עִמָּ֔ךְ לֹא תִהְיֶ֥ה ל֖וֹ כְּנֹשֶׁ֑ה לֹֽא תְשִׂימ֥וּן עָלָ֖יו נֶֽשֶׁךְ:
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Exod 22:24 If you lend silver (=money) to my people, to the poor among you, do not act toward them as a creditor; exact no interest from them.[1] |
The biblical prohibition against charging interest is the only such restriction known to us from the Ancient Near East.[2] What exactly is the Torah prohibiting in this verse?
Let us look at each element of the verse:
1. “My People” (אֶת עַמִּי): What About Not-Israelites?
The simple meaning of the verse is that if an Israelite lends a fellow Israelite money, he may not charge interest, implying that if he loans a non-Israelite money, he may charge interest. Rashi, however, expanding upon on a midrashic reading of the text found in the Mekhilta d’Rabbi Ishmael, rereads the verse to discourage lending to non-Israelites:
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וְכֵן מַשְׁמָעוֹ: אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה – אֶת עַמִּי תַּלְוֵהוּ וְלֹא לְגוֹי…
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This is its meaning: “If you loan silver” – loan it to my people and not to a non-Jew… |
Rashi parses the verse against its plain syntax and even against the Masoretic teamim (cantillation marks),[3] thereby changing the simple meaning of the phrase. Now it means, if you are going to loan anyone money, make sure it is to an Israelite, but this is clearly not the simple meaning of the verse.
Deuteronomy and Loans to Non-Israelites
The verse in Exodus implicitly divides between how a fellow Israelite should be treated financially and how outsiders may be treated. The Deuteronomic law collection makes this point explicit:
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דברים כג:כ לֹא תַשִּׁיךְ לְאָחִיךָ נֶשֶׁךְ כֶּסֶף נֶשֶׁךְ אֹכֶל נֶשֶׁךְ כָּל דָּבָר אֲשֶׁר יִשָּׁךְ. כג:כא לַנָּכְרִי תַשִּׁיךְ וּלְאָחִיךָ לֹא תַשִּׁיךְ לְמַעַן יְבָרֶכְךָ יְ-הוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכֹל מִשְׁלַח יָדֶךָ עַל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה בָא שָׁמָּה לְרִשְׁתָּהּ.
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Deut 23:20 You shall not deduct interest from loans to your kinsman, whether in money or food or anything else that can be deducted as interest. 23:20 You may deduct interest from loans to foreigners but do not deduct interest from loans to your country-men, so that YHWH your God may bless you in all your undertakings in the land that you are about to enter and possess. |
Deuteronomy changes the referent from “my (=God’s) people” to “your kinsman,”[4] Deuteronomy’s favored term for “fellow Israelites,” emphasizing that this law is about the proper way to treat “family.” Moreover, the second verse explicitly notes that Deuteronomy envisions Israelites loaning money to Israelites and non-Israelites alike, but it is permitted to make profit from the latter but not the former.
2. The Poor Among You (אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ) or any Israelite?
The verse opens with an ambiguity:
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שמות כב:כד אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה אֶת עַמִּי אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ… |
Exod 22:24 If you lend silver to my people, to the poor among you… |
This phrasing is surprisingly unclear; what is the relationship between the phrase “to the poor among you” and “my people”? This ambiguity leads to Rashi’s interpretation, again found in Mekhilta d’Rabbi Ishmael:
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וּלְאֵזֶה מֵעַמִּי? אֶת הֶעָנִי, וּלְאֵיזֶה עָנִי? לְאוֹתוֹ שֶׁעִמָּךְ.
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Which among my people? The poor. And which poor person? The one that is “with you.” |
Rashi’s reading splits the phrase “the poor among you” into two separate categories, “the poor” anywhere, and “those among you,” meaning local poor. This midrashic parsing, found originally in the Mekhilta but appearing ubiquitously afterwards in Rabbinic literature, is how this verse becomes the basis of the Rabbinic ruling “the poor of your own town come first” (עניי עירך קודמין; b. Bava Metzia 71a).
Financial Straits
The simple meaning is that loans are for the poor, and the second phrase is merely spelling this out. In other words, the Torah is not speaking about business loans here, but assistance for a fellow Israelite in financial straits. This is made explicit in a law recorded in the Holiness Collection in Leviticus:
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ויקרא כה:לה וְכִי יָמוּךְ אָחִיךָ וּמָטָה יָדוֹ עִמָּךְ וְהֶחֱזַקְתָּ בּוֹ גֵּר וְתוֹשָׁב וָחַי עִמָּךְ. כה:לו אַל תִּקַּח מֵאִתּוֹ נֶשֶׁךְ וְתַרְבִּית וְיָרֵאתָ מֵאֱלֹהֶיךָ וְחֵי אָחִיךָ עִמָּךְ. כה:לז אֶת כַּסְפְּךָ לֹא תִתֵּן לוֹ בְּנֶשֶׁךְ וּבְמַרְבִּית לֹא תִתֵּן אָכְלֶךָ.
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Lev 25:35 If your brother, being in straits, comes under your authority, and you hold him as though a resident alien, let him live by your side: 25:36 do not exact from him advance or accrued interest, but fear your God. Let him live by your side as your kinsman. 25:37 Do not lend him your money at advance interest or give him your food at accrued interest. |
In other words, this law comes into effect when a fellow Israelite, “your brother,” has a financial reversal and you are the local landowner upon whose largess he is going to have to live. In short, none of the three iterations of the law have anything to say about business interest to fellow well-off Israelites. (More on this later.)
3. What Does “Acting Like a Creditor” (לֹא תִהְיֶה לוֹ כְּנֹשֶׁה) Mean?
The word נֹשֶׁה (nôšeh) puzzled ancient translators and interpreters, and it is the one element of this verse not echoed in Deuteronomy (or Leviticus). The NJPS and the NRSV translate it as “creditor,” which is a neutral, descriptive term.[5] The Septuagint, however, translates it as “like one who presses down” (κατεπείγων) and Targum Onqelos prefers “like an evil one” [6] (כְּרָשְׁיָא).These latter emphasize a moral problem with creditor-like behavior.
The simple point is that a person should not try to collect on a loan that the borrower cannot repay, i.e., not to try and squeeze blood from a stone (to paraphrase a well-known proverb). But what is immoral about people trying to collect money owed them?
Benefiting the Lender or the Borrower?
The Sefer Ha-Chinukh (#73[or 67]), an anonymous thirteenth-century halakhic work that derived no less than three independent mitzvot from Exodus 22:24,[7] explains how not pressuring a borrower will make the lender into a better person:
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לקנות לנו מדת החסד והחנינה והחמלה
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To help us develop the virtue of kindness and empathy and compassion. |
Rashi, in contrast, focuses on the emotional harm to the borrower, on the shame that a creditor brings to a debtor who cannot pay. Moreover, Rashi offers a much more expansive meaning for “acting like a creditor,” going far beyond merely not asking for money he doesn’t have:
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לא תתבענו בחזקה, אם אתה יודע שאין לו אל תהי דומה עליו כאילו הלויתו אלא כאילו לא הלויתו, כלומר לא תכלימהו.
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Do not demand from him with force, if you know that he doesn’t have it, don’t act toward him as someone who lent him money but rather as someone who hasn’t lent him money. In other words, don’t shame him. |
To be in debt is seen as shame-worthy, and a loan is more dignified than a “handout,” since it is based on the implicit assumption that the person can pay it back. Nevertheless, Rashi says, if the person cannot pay it back, not only may you not demand it from him, but you must pretend that the loan never happened.
4. The Bite of Interest (לֹא תְשִׂימוּן עָלָיו נֶשֶׁךְ)
The word נֶשֶׁךְ is a homograph with the Hebrew root for “bite.”[8] This similarity serves as a trigger for a derash from Rashi (drawing from the Tanchuma):
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נֶשֶׁךְ – רִבִּית, שֶׁהוּא כִנְשִׁיכַת נָחָשׁ שֶׁנוֹשֵׁךְ חַבּוּרָה קְטַנָּה בְּרַגְלוֹ וְאֵינוֹ מַרְגִּישׁ, וּפִתְאוֹם הוּא מְבַטְבֵּט וְנוֹפֵחַ עַד קָדְקֳדוֹ, כָּךְ רִבִּית אֵינוֹ מַרְגִּישׁ וְאֵינוֹ נִכָּר עַד שֶׁהָרִבִּית עוֹלֶה וּמְחַסְּרוֹ מָמוֹן הַרְבֵּה.
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Nešekh – Interest, which is like the bite of a snake who makes a small bite in his leg and he doesn’t feel [anything] and suddenly it bulges and swells to his head. Thus is interest, which is neither seen nor recognized until it increases and causes the loss of much money. |
By comparing interest specifically to a snake bite, the derash underlines the danger of interest, which sneaks up on people and does them great financial harm.
Two Types of Interest?
The Hebrew term for interest, נֶשֶׁךְ (nešekh), appears in all three of the Torah’s legal collections prohibiting interest, and in Leviticus, it is paired with תַרְבִּית (see also Ezek 18:8, 13; Prov 28:8), which also means interest. This seeming redundancy has led many commentators to understand these terms as two different types of interest.
- NJPS translates נֶשֶׁךְ as “advanced interest” (i.e., paid at the time of the loan or earlier) and תַרְבִּית as “accrued interest” (i.e., paid upon the repayment of the loan or after).
- The Mishnah (Bava Metzia 5:1), however, understands נֶשֶׁךְ as an advance agreement that the borrower will pay back more than the amount of the original loan and תַרְבִּית as paying back the loan of one form of produce with another form of produce that has risen in value, that the borrower did not have on hand at the time of the deal.
Although the verse in Leviticus may very well be including more than one form of interest, it is unlikely that the inverse is the case, namely that Exodus and Deuteronomy meant to forbid only one form of interest. Instead, these sources probably meant נֶשֶׁךְ as a catch-all term for interest. In all three sources, the point appears to be that an Israelite should not apply the “bite” of interest to loans given to his poor brethren.
5. Silver (אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה) or Produce?
The verse refers to a loan of silver, but what use would poor people in Iron Age Israel[9] have had for “silver”?[10] As we have little evidence for a market-based economy, silver would most likely be used for big purchases like land (Gen 23:10-16) or slaves (Gen 37:21). Silver was the kind of loan you would make to a landowner who sought to keep his (or her?) land from being repossessed rather than to the chronically poor.
Is the term “silver” in Exodus meant to be inclusive of all commodities or exclusively limited to silver?
Including Food Loans: Leviticus and Deuteronomy
Deuteronomy picks up on this ambiguity and expands the list to be all inclusive: “interest from your loans whether in money or food or anything else” (נֶשֶׁךְ כֶּסֶף נֶשֶׁךְ אֹכֶל נֶשֶׁךְ כָּל דָּבָר). Leviticus similarly adds food to the list, “Do not lend him your money at advance interest or give him your food at accrued interest” (אֶת כַּסְפְּךָ לֹא תִתֵּן לוֹ בְּנֶשֶׁךְ וּבְמַרְבִּית לֹא תִתֵּן אָכְלֶךָ).
According to the passages in Leviticus and Deuteronomy, Israelites cannot ask to receive back more than the exact amount loaned of any product, whether it be silver or food or anything else. The added specification in those two passages highlights its absence in Exodus, which may only be envisioning loans to an Israelite landowner in financial collapse, as opposed to loans to the starving poor in need of food. If so, the passages in Leviticus and Deuteronomy expand the rule to include an even more humanitarian goal.[11]
Business versus Personal Loans
The reference to the poor or “being in straights,” the prohibition of acting like a creditor, and the discussion of food loans in Deuteronomy and Leviticus make it clear that the Bible is discussing only personal loans. This is also why the Torah treats loaning with interest as an ethical violation.
The Tanakh never discusses what we would call business loans, which deal with production rather than consumption.[12] Such loans do not take advantage of poor people in dire straits but reflect a reasonable demand on the part of lenders to ensure that their money is being put to profitable use.
The Amorality of Business Interest: Adam Smith
Charging interest is a necessary part of market life. Like charging rent, business interest is amoral, i.e., neither moral nor immoral, just business. The great economist, Adam Smith (1723-1790), defines interest as a form of “stock,” i.e., part of the ownership and functioning of businesses:
That [revenue] derived from it [stock] by the person who does not employ it himself, but lends it to another, is called the interest or use of money. It is the compensation which the borrower pays to the lender, for the profit which he has an opportunity of making by the use of the money. Part of the profit naturally belongs to the borrower, who runs the risk and takes the trouble of employing it; and part to the lender, who affords him the opportunity of making this profit.[13]
Smith treats interest dispassionately as a standard business reality and a relatively minor form of stock payment. [14]
Extending the Prohibition to Business Loans
It is possible that the biblical authors may have agreed with Smith’s sentiment, since they never speak about business interest one way or the other. However, the rabbis may have seen matters differently, since they applied the biblical prohibition to all forms of interest, including business loans. This is never stated in the Talmud, but simply taken for granted.
This fact of rabbinic law is stated explicitly in the glosses of R. Moses Isserles (Remah, 1530-1572) on the Shulchan Arukh (Yoreh Deah 160:1):
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ואין חילוק בין אם מלוה לעני או לעשיר.
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There is no distinction between a loan to a poor person or a loan to a wealthy one. |
The Vilna Gaon (R. Elijah of Vilna, 1720-1797), in his gloss on the Shulchan Arukh (ad loc.), explains R. Isserles’ point:
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ר”ל אף על גב דנאמר וכי ימוך כו’ אל תקח כו’ ופשוט הוא בכמה מקומות
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His point is that even though [the Torah] states (Lev 25:35-36) “if your brother, being in straights… do not take…” [this does not mean the prohibition is limited to the poor], and this is clear in many places [where the Rabbis apply the prohibition to any loan]. |
The Vilna Gaon is certainly correct that this across the board application is clear in rabbinic, as opposed to biblical, texts. Why would the Rabbis read the Torah in such a counterintuitive way, ignoring all the references to the poor and the humanitarian critiques, and apply the prohibition even to business loans?
Greek Antipathy for Interest
Unlike the biblical authors and Adam Smith, Greek and Roman thinkers express great discomfort with all forms of interest, including business interest. As Aristotle writes (Politics 1258b):
Petty usury (ὀβολοστατική, lit., a weigher of obols, 1/6 of a drachma) is most reasonably hated, because its gain comes from money itself and not from that for the sake of which money was invented. For money was brought into existence for the purpose of exchange, but interest increases the amount of the money itself—and this is the actual origin of the Greek word (τόκος means both “offspring” and “interest”): a child resembles a parent, and interest is money born of money. Consequently, this form of the business of getting wealth is of all forms the most contrary to nature. [15]
For Aristotle, interest of any kind is unnatural and morally suspect. The Rabbis of the Mishnah lived in a Hellenistic world and imbibed many of its values. Thus, the Greek antipathy for interest of any kind may explain why the Rabbis understood the biblical prohibition to refer to even business loans.
Turning Loans into Business Partnerships: The Heter Isqa
Conceivably, had Greek and Roman thinkers not condemned interest in all forms, the halakhah might have allowed business loans to fellow Jews with reasonable rates of interest. But the rabbinic extension of the biblical prohibition led to an impossible situation for people wanting to borrow money for business ventures.
To remedy this problem—ironically of their own making—the rabbis devised a legal fiction known as the heter isqa (lit., permission to conduct business”), that turns a loan into a business partnership.[16] This legal instrument made the “borrower” and “lender” fictional “partners” in the venture and thus entitled to half of all profits and responsible for half of all losses. The borrower, though, forfeits her or his right to profits in return for a predictable revenue stream. In practice the deal thus looks like an interest payment, although it is technically a fee or penalty. Below is the relevant clause from the Star-K’s heter isqa:[17]
We have agreed to a condition that if __________________ (the Recipient) will give ______ % of the money deposited in his charge per year to _________________ (the Investor), the Investor shall have no further claim to the rest of the profit. The Recipient has been given a wage for his labor.
Although the heter isqa was designed for business loans, it can technically be used for any loan; a heter isqa kelali (“general heter isqa”) is used by Israeli banks automatically for all loans. Moreover, it treats interest as a technical rather than a moral matter. It brings us much closer to Adam Smith.
Applying the Torah’s Concerns to Modern Life
The heter isqa can in theory be used in all loans, i.e., even humanitarian loans. But it is important not to lose sight of the Torah’s moral problems with charging interest to the poor and people in financial collapse; charging these people interest on loans is a moral problem that is as real today as it was three thousand years ago.
Payday Loans
One need not look far to see such immoral lending practices, particularly in the so-called “payday loans.” These outrageous loans, usually small and given at high interest rates, target the working poor who have little access to the conventional banking system. They are to be paid back with the next paycheck but often the interest keeps compounding until the debts exceed the paychecks.[18] They have become a classic case of nešekh (interest) as nešikha (bite), often sneaking up to drown borrowers in debt. The Torah’s prohibitions should sensitize us to this wrongful behavior and drive us to work against it.
Free Loans for the Working Poor
At the same time, the Torah suggests a positive response to poverty, a return to free-loan associations. Such institutions, which were common among immigrant and other groups that were shut out of our banking systems, have largely been marginalized. But by providing loans to the needy without charging interest they embody the spirit of Exodus 22:24.
Organizations such as the Hebrew Free Loan Society and Kiva are, to my mind, exemplary in their commitment to a compassionate, ethical, and effective approach to poor relief.[19] But whether we support such institutions or not, our commitment to avoid profiting from the misfortune of others should be unshakeable.
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02/05/2018[1] All translations are from the NJPS with adjustments.
[2] David P. Wright, Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 302-3.
[3] In addition to giving the reader musical notes, the cantillation marks are meant to outline the proper parsing of the biblical text according to the Masorites. One of the key aspects of the Masoretic parsing system is that certain marks tell the reader to pause, since they have arrived at a conceptual break, and others tell the reader to continue since they have not yet arrived at a conceptual break. The former is called “king” (מלך) and the latter, “servant” (משרת). In this case, the pause mark (a revi’i) sits under the word “my people,” and thus the phrase translates “if you lend silver to my people.” Yet Rashi reads the verse as if there is a pause of the word “lend,” yielding, “if you loan silver – [do so to] my people.”
[4] The Deuteronomic Collection often rewords laws from the older Covenant Collection. See discussion in Bernard Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).
[5] In his Biur, Moses Mendelssohn uses the term “debt collector” (Schuldeinforderer).
[6] For other places this word seems to mean creditor, see Jer 15:10 and 2 Kings 4:1. Cf. BDB 674.
[7] The mitzvah to loan poor people money (#66), the prohibition to act like a creditor, which includes the prohibition to lend with interest (#73[67]), and the prohibition—derived from this verse in the Talmud (b. Bava Metzia 75b)—to participate in a loan with interest in any way, even as a guarantor (#74[68]). (The numbering follows the Chavel critical edition, used in the Torat Chayim Rabbinic Bible; the numbers in brackets follow that of the standard printing.)
[8] It is unclear whether the roots are related, since in certain Semitic languages, the word for bite has the root transposed, n-k-s instead of n-s-k. See discussion in HALOT.
[9] Many scholars assume that the Covenant Collection was put together in the Northern Kingdom of Israel, prior to its fall to the Assyrians in 722 BCE. For more on this law collection, see, Wright, Inventing God’s Law.
[10] Since until the Persian period the Tanakh does not know of governmentally issued money (i.e., coinage), we seem to dealing here with silver nuggets that are weighed out, thus the biblical use of shekel, a weight, for what we would consider money.
[11] Alternatively, perhaps Exodus assumes that food would be given as charity and this is why it only includes silver, which is for someone of means down on their luck, involves larger sums, and the possibility of repayment is much more likely.
[12] In contrast, for example, to the Laws of Hammurabi and other documents from the Ancient Near East that recognize that merchants charge each other interest rates (sometimes in the range of 20-33%!). See the Laws of Hammurabi 88 and the papers collected in Raymond Westbrook and Richard Jasnow, eds., Security for Debt in Ancient Near Eastern Law (Leiden: Koninklikjke Brill, 2001)
[13] Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations (New York: P. F. Collier and Son, 1802 [1776]), 105.
[14] For Smith, there are three main sources of income: wages (from labor); profits (from stocks); and rent (from land). He assigns relatively little importance to interest income, seeing it as a secondary form of profit:
The interest of money is always a derivative revenue, which, if it is not paid from the profit which is made by the use of money, must be paid from some other source of revenue, unless perhaps the borrower is a spendthrift, who contracts a second debt in order to pay the interest of the first.
[15] Translation from Perseus website. See also his Nicomachean Ethics 1121b for the comparison of “petty userers” to pimps. Compare Ezekiel 18:13, that assigns the death penalty to loaning on interest.
[16] Hillel Gamoran, Jewish Law in Transition: How Economic Forces Overcame the Prohibition against Lending on Interest (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 2008).
[17] https://www.star-k.org/images/db/hetter-iska.pdf accessed 02/05/2018
[18] See discussion in, Alan Rappeport, “Payday Rules Relax on Trump’s Watch After Lobbying by Lenders,” The New York Times (Feb. 2, 2018); Bethany McLean, “Payday Lending: Will Anything Better Replace It?” The Atlantic (May 2016).
[19] See Shelly Tenenbaum, A Credit to Their Community: Jewish Loan Societies in the United States, 1880-1945 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1993).
Tagging the Talmud
This essay is cross-posted at thetalmud.com where it kicks off a series on digital humanities.
The other week I attended a workshop called Classical Philology Goes Digital Workshop in Potsdam, Germany. The major goal of the workshop, which was also tied to the Humboldt Chair of Digital Humanities was to further the work of creating and analyzing open texts of the “classics”, broadly construed. We have been thinking about adding natural language processing (including morphological and syntactic tagging – or, as I learned at the workshop, more accurately “annotation”) to the Inscriptions of Israel/Palestine project. While we learned much and are better positioned to add this functionality, I was must struck by how far the world of “digital classical philology,” focused mainly on texts, has progressed and it got me thinking about the state of our own field.
Running underneath the workshop was the uneasy knowledge that classical philology, as traditionally understood and practiced, is on a sharp decline. There is increasingly little interest on the part of students, administrators, and funding agencies to support, for example, the creation of textual editions of Greek and Latin texts. The gambit at the heart of this workshop is that going digital provides a new and more exciting approach to classical philology. Instead of focusing on individual texts, philology becomes a collaborative exercise in “big data” and “distant reading.” Electronic editions of each text are prepared with this in mind and then enter this wider corpus to which a variety of digital tools can be applied. At the workshop several of the larger initiatives, such as Perseus, Open Philology, and the Digital Latin Library, were discussed. All of these projects, unlike the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae for example, are open access. Open access is a critical part of this vision as its value is not simply its accessibility but its availability to digital analysis, revision, and reuse.
Most of the presentations dealt with practical issues dealing especially with standards and annotations: What does one do to a text (other than give free access to it) to maximize its scholarly utility? How does one annotate not only morphology, syntax, and named entities (e.g., proper names and places) but also actions and events? Canonical Text Services (CTS), an architecture for precise citation of digital texts, turns out to be particularly imporant, because it facilitates the linking of lines of text in one manuscript to another (thus allowing for the automated production of synoptic editions), to parts of images, and to various translations. Tools like iAlign (being used in Leipzig) were particularly interesting in this respect. Other presentations focused on creating treebanks, that is, something that looks like the sentence diagrams I had to do in middle school. These can then be analyzed and compared across texts for rhetorical similarities and differences.
Another area of focus in the classics is interextuality and the tools that can reveal citing or reuse of one text by another. One important site that shows its utility it Tesserae, which supports this kind of analysis across several Latin texts. TRACER is also a powerful tool for Latin. While this digital approach to classics and distant reading still has its strong critics (see, e.g., here), there is little question that these and tools like them will yield import, perhaps transformational, scholarship.
And this finally brings me to rabbinic literature. Where do we stand in relation to the application of the digital to the classics, and where are the opportunities? In some surprising respects, we are very much on or ahead of the curve. Large swathes of texts already have been digitized and some (e.g., Mechon Mamre and Sefaria) are committed to an open-access policy. The Bar-Ilan Responsa project contains a vast number of texts that are also tagged for morphology, allowing, for example, searches by lemma. Two sites in particular, the Lieberman Institute and the Friedberg Jewish Manuscript Society contain digitized manuscripts, transcriptions, and some kind of CTS architecture that links images and different transcriptions, although neither allows for fully automated open access. One model is the Digital Mishnah which is open-access and has many of the features noted above.
The question that occurred to me in Potsdam is how we deploy and utilize these resources to move us into the age of “big data” and to make possible the kinds of larger-scale, cross-corpus analyses that our colleagues in classics are beginning to do. We have only just begun to think about visualizing the links between documents (as in this example from Sefaria) and, in general, applying the approach of “distant reading” to the rabbinic corpus (see, for example, the dissertation of Itay Marienberg-Milikowsky). What are the opportunities and how do we get there?
To be transparent, I confess that I have dreams. I am intrigued by the idea of creating digital editions of rabbinic texts. I would like to see links between images, transcriptions, and different translations. I would like to be able to map places and events found in this literature and to create a social network analysis of the rabbis. Using treebanks as a new approach to form analysis could be exciting. Further down the road, perhaps literary and formal structures of talmudic sugyot could be created at the push of a button. What kinds of questions would these analyses allow us to answer? What kinds of new questions would we ask?
But open-access digital editions are the first step. These editions would ideally use a CTS architecture and include multiple manuscript transcriptions and images; morphological, lexical, and syntactic annotation; links of words to such places as Ma’agarim and the Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon; and annotations of named entities. Given what has already been done, should the various resource owners desire to cooperate, such editions might be easily and quickly produced. Of course, any efforts to do this would have to be accompanied by a viable and sustainable financial model.
In the United States and Israel (and I suspect Europe as well), the traditional practice of “rabbinics” in secular universities has, like classical philology, is in a precarious position. It is increasingly important for the survival of the field to make our texts relevant to larger academic concerns. Big data and distant reading are not the only possible approaches to making rabbinic literature more relevant, but they are receiving increased attention (and funding) and offer a largely unexplored set of new research possibilities.
This is a curve we can get ahead of. Any takers?
Telling the Story of the Holocaust in Germany. Or Not.

http://rarehistoricalphotos.com/german-soldiers-forced-watch-footage-concentration-camps-1945/
It must be a daunting task to memorialize the Holocaust. The fact is, there is no real way to do this right. No matter how good your representation, in whatever medium, you know that you will face harsh, withering criticism. There is simply no way around this. The Holocaust is too raw and has too many dimensions to capture and there will always be people – a sizable number of good, well-intentioned people – who stand read to take you to task for what you miss.
I recently had the opportunity to see the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin. The above ground monument is powerful. Consisting of an undulating field of stone pillars that progress from shorter to taller, it first evokes the tombs of Jerusalem graveyards before giving way to a Kafkaesque set of higher pillars that is disorienting as you walk through them. When I was there a group of children were playing hide and seek among the pillars, which I totally understood (might I have done the same at that age?) even if at the same time it made me slightly nauseous. And the placement, so close to the government buildings, the Brandenburg Gate, the old dividing line between East and West, the additional monuments to those slaughtered by the Nazis, and the government buildings gives it an additional punch.
I went downstairs into the exhibition, located in the area of a the Nazis’ bunker system. The exhibition mixes emotional power with unvarnished fact. There is a straightforward, unapologetic narrative of the efforts at extermination and a powerful exhibition of written fragments of Jews who would soon be killed by the Nazis. A room devoted to the doomed fates of Jewish families from across Europe also put a human face on the Holocaust.
What I missed, though – and here I wonder if I just am asking for too much – is the how and why. Not how the extermination was carried out; there was plenty about that. How did the Germans, for whom this exhibit was built, come to treat their own (as well as Jews elsewhere) so murderously? While I know that there is no single “right” answer to this question, this is the question at the heart of the Holocaust (and perhaps the division of Germany into East and West) and I doubt anyone could leave the Memorial without asking it. Yet I don’t know if anything in the exhibition would help anyone to answer it.
Earlier in my trip to Germany I visited the city historical museum in Potsdam. There was a panel dealing with the treatment of the Jewish community there. That exhibition was totally appropriate. It was factual and unapologetic. As far as I could see, though, it was also the first and only mention of Jews as part of the city’s narrative. Jews, and the relationships they had with Germans, just seemed to float unmoored, alien to the essential history of the city.
The Germans that I meet are extraordinarily sensitive to this issue, in a good way. They are not responsible for what happened, or at least not any more than many Americans are for the way that their ancestors treated their slaves. Both cases bring to mind the slogan “truth and justice”, and make me wonder what that really entails.
Jewish Charity in Antiquity
The online forum Ancient Jew Review recently published three essays on Jewish charity in antiquity, by Alyssa Gray, Gregg Gardner, and Yael Wilfand. I highly recommend these essays which together provide an excellent introduction to the state of research in this field. My own response to them was also published here.