The Torah has two basic components: a long, complex narrative thatserves as the backstory to the covenant and its literary frame, and thespecific commandments that serve as the terms of that covenant. Thenarrative itself—the long, complex narratives relating to the creationof the world, the great flood, the adventures of the patriarchs andmatriarchs of Israel, the descent into slavery in Egypt, the exodusfrom Egypt, the events at Mount Sinai, and the subsequent journeythe edge of the Land of Israel, where the people are camped whenthe Torah narrative concludes with Moses’ death—is relativelywell-known even in the secular Western world. And some of thecommandments too are well known to the general public in Westernlands—some because they were eventually adopted by Christiantheologians and made tenets of Christianity, others because they areso overtly characteristic of Jewish life that they have become easilyrecognizable to anyone who has even casual contact with the Jewishcommunity, and others because they have come to serve as the mostbasic moral planks in Western ethics even for people who do notself-define as Jews or Christians.But however well known the commandments may be as regardstheir general content, the Hebrew text of the Torah that preservesthe commandments in their literary guise can prove surprisinglydifficult. For one thing, Biblical Hebrew is an ancient language in2 Martin S. Cohenwhich words do not necessarily mean what they eventually came tomean after millennia of linguistic development. Moreover, classicalHebrew authors regularly presuppose information on the part oftheir readers and listeners, much of which non-specialist modernssimply do not possess. (For example, Scripture references all sorts ofpublic officials and military officers by their ranks and titles withoutexplaining them because the reader is simply assumed to be familiarwith the terminology, somewhat in the same way a contemporaryAmerican journalist might refer to someone as a senator fromOklahoma without feeling any need to pause and explain what asenator is. Or what Oklahoma is!) And then there is the questionof grammar to consider. For all that modern scholars have analyzedthe language of the Bible and attempted to describe its grammaticalrules, there are still many passages that feel inconsonant with thoserules. These passages likely do not constitute errors of usage onthe part of their ancient authors, however, but rather indicate thatour understanding of biblical grammar simply does not reflect thenuanced, dynamic way ancient Hebrew was actually spoken inantiquity as a living, vibrant language. And, finally, there is the vexingquestion of the specific way Hebrew words are related to each other.Classical Hebrew, like all Semitic languages, is built on three-lettercombinations of consonants called “roots,” and most of the wordsthat constitute the language’s vocabulary are built on those roots. Yetsome words that appear to be built on the same root seem entirelyunrelated in meaning. And still others, mysterious in their own right,do not appear to have triliteral roots at all.Any study of the commandments that carefully considers suchconcerns will naturally lead to meaningful insight, and this is preciselythe kind of examination that underlies this volume, the tenth andfinal volume in the Mesorah Matrix series. Like its predecessors inthe series, this volume is devoted to the reasoned, thoughtful, and3 Prefaceinspiring analysis of specific Jewish ideas, practices, and beliefs. Infact, all of the present essays focus on a single word that lies at theintersection of law, linguistics, spirituality, faith, and modern Jewishpractice: v’shamru. And although the word will be familiar to mostfrom its liturgical use in the version of the Kiddush prayer recitedon Shabbat that cites Exodus 31:16–17, the word appears in othercontexts as well and several of the essays in this volume considerthose uses.The key passage that connects that word with Shabbat observance,Exodus 31:16–17, reads as follows, with the English words thatcorrespond to the Hebrew v’shamru printed in bold:And so shall the Israelites keep the Sabbath, safeguardingits observance throughout all their generations as evidenceof the eternal covenant that binds Me and the Israelites, forthe Sabbath is that covenant’s eternal sign in that the Eternalmade the heavens and the earth in six days and then pausedfor rest and repose on the seventh day.It is the specific question of what v’shamru means in this context towhich our authors who have chosen to write about Shabbat turntheir attention.As noted, the word is not used exclusively with respect toShabbat observance and it appears elsewhere in the Torah text todesignate what Israelites are commanded to “do” with respect tothe commandments, or some specific commandment. But it is theShabbat connection that interests most of our authors, possiblybecause Moses himself is cited (at Deuteronomy 5:12) as recalling thefourth of the Ten Commandments as beginning with an imperativebuilt on that very root of shin-mem-resh, even though the “actual” textpresented in Exodus begins with a different word entirely.Words built on the three-letter root shin-mem-resh generally have4 Martin S. Cohensomething to do with guarding, protecting, or keeping safe, but whatit is exactly about these specific contexts, and the Shabbat contextforemost among them, that requires so much guarding or protectingis left unsaid. Is there some specific fragility that inheres in theobservance of that specific commandment which makes reasonablethe use of some version of a word based on shim-mem-resh to qualifyits observance? Or is Shabbat simply of such cardinal importancethat Scripture uses that specific verb to describe its observance solelyto say that that nation must exert itself maximally to guarantee itscareful and punctilious observance? Or does this usage hint insteadat some specific danger that might be lurking within the details ofShabbat observance, some plausible ideational, doctrinal, dogmatic,or even physical peril against which the people must be commandedscrupulously to guard themselves? To none of these questions doesScripture nod even in passing. Yet the essays in this volume thatfocus on Shabbat are all attempts, one way or another, to addressthose specific questions and others that derive from them directly. Ihope our readers will find all our authors’ efforts both intriguing anduplifting.The authors who have contributed to this volume are a varied lotdrawn from across the spectrum of organized Jewish life—Israelisand diasporan types, rabbis and academics, men and woman, olderand younger scholars, seasoned authors and relative newcomers tothe world of publishing. Some have contributed to other volumes inour series and one, the indefatigable Reuven Bulka, has contributedessays to all ten; others present their sole contribution to the seriesin this one volume. All, however, are united by their common beliefin the power of the well-written word and the sense that, even in thedigital age, the well-structured, convincingly argued essay retains itsability not just to inform but also to influence and to inspire.Unless otherwise indicated, all translations here are the authors’5 Prefaceown work. Biblical citations referenced to the NJPS derive from thecomplete translation of Scripture published under the title Tanakh:The Holy Scriptures by the Jewish Publication Society in Philadelphiain 1985.As we prepare to publish this, the tenth and final volume in theMesorah Matrix series, I would like to take this opportunity toacknowledge the other senior editors of the Mesorah Matrix series,David Birnbaum and Benjamin Blech, as well as Saul J. Berman, ourassociate editor.And I would also like to add a personal note at this junctureregarding the larger operation. This project has brought together alarge number of authors in an almost unprecedented effort to unitepeople across the spectrum of Jewish affiliation for the sake of k’lalyisrael. And despite the way that Jewish people from different parts ofthe Jewish world are regularly supposed not ever to get along, muchless to wish to work together on anything at all of consequence, allof our authors have shown themselves willing to participate in thenoble effort that underlies the Mesorah Matrix project: to revitalizethe essay form and to make of it a successful vehicle for inspiringJewish readers to take their Judaism and their Jewishness to an evenhigher level, to feel ennobled by their membership in the House ofIsrael, and potentially to feel themselves called upon to embrace amore personal role in the pursuit of Jewish destiny. It has been myprivilege and pleasure to work with them all.As always, I must also express my gratitude to the men andwomen, and particularly to the lay leadership, of the synagogue Iserve as rabbi: the Shelter Rock Jewish Center in Roslyn, New York.Possessed of the unwavering conviction that their rabbi’s literaryprojects are part and parcel of his service to them (and, throughthem, to the larger community of those interested in learning aboutJudaism), they are remarkably supportive of my literary efforts asauthor and editor. I am in their debt and am pleased to acknowledgethat debt formally here and whenever I publish my own work or thework of others. I couldn’t be me if they weren’t them.

Moses Maimonides’s Guide of the Perplexed is the greatest philosophical text in the history of Jewish thought and a major work of the Middle Ages. For almost all of its history, however, the Guide has been read and commented upon in translation—in Hebrew, Latin, Spanish, French, English, and other modern languages—rather than in its original Judeo-Arabic. This volume is the first to tell the story of the translations and translators of Maimonides’ Guide and its impact in translation on philosophy from the Middle Ages to the present day. A collection of essays by scholars from a range of disciplines, the book unfolds in two parts. The first traces the history of the translations of the Guide, from medieval to modern renditions. The second surveys its influence in translation on Latin scholastic, early modern, and contemporary Anglo-American philosophy, as well as its impact in translation on current scholarship. Interdisciplinary in approach, this book will be essential reading for philosophers, historians, and religious studies scholars alike.

Born in 1918 into the fabric of Arab-Jewish frontier life at the foot of Mt. Tabor, Yigal Allon rose to become one of the founding figures of the state of Israel and an architect of its politics. In 1945 Allon became commander of the Palmah—an elite unit of the Haganah, the semilegal army of the Jewish community—during the struggle against the British for independence. In the 1947-49 War of Independence against local and invading Arab armies, he led the decisive battles that largely determined the borders of Israel. Paradoxically, his close lifelong relations with Arab neighbors did not prevent him from being a chief agent of their sizable displacement. A bestseller in Israel and available now translated into English, Yigal Allon, Native Son is the only biography of this charismatic leader. The book focuses on Allon's life up to 1950, his clash with founding father David Ben-Gurion, the end of his military career, and the watershed in culture and character between the Jewish Yishuv and Israeli statehood. As a statesman in his more mature years, he formulated what became known as the "Allon Plan," which remains a viable blueprint for an eventual two-state partition between Israel and the Palestinians. Yet in the end, the promise Allon showed as a brilliant young military commander remained unfulfilled. The great dream of the Palmah generation was largely lost, and Allon's name became associated with the failed policies of the past. The story of Allon's life frames the history of Israel, its relationship with its Arab neighbors, its culture and spirit. This important biography touches on matters—Israel's borders, refugees, military might—that remain very much alive today.

This book deals with aspects of the gender imaging of God in a variety of medieval kabbalistic sources. It provides the key to understanding the phenomenological structures of mystical experience as well as the thematic correlation of esotericism and eroticism that is central to the kabbalah. The author examines the role of gender utilizing current feminist studies and cultural anthropology. He explores the themes of the feminization of the Torah, the correlation of circumcision and vision of God, the phallocentric understanding of divine creation as a process of inscription mythologized as an act of sexual self-gratification, and the phenomenon of gender-crossing in kabbalistic myth and ritual. Collectively, the studies explore in great depth the androcentric phallocentrism that is characteristic of medieval Jewish mysticism.