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This chapter posits Leon Modena's writing practices within the context of early modern Venice, capital of Hebrew printing and center of manuscript production. The circumstances of Modena's life as well as the cultural world of early modern Venice offer some context for why Ari Nohem (The Roaring Lion, 1840) did not appear in print in the seventeenth century. As a work of criticism, Ari Nohem reflected upon the transmission of Jewish tradition, particularly the transmission of esoteric information and the principles of Jewish law. Modena argued that the printing of legal and kabbalistic books had effected a radical change in the transmission of Jewish tradition, a change that he decried in no uncertain terms at several points. Ari Nohem polemicized against one medium, print, in the form of another, manuscript.

The Commentary’s medieval reception unfolded in diverse centers of Jewish life and across a strikingly large number of spheres: exegetical, educational, polemical, and more. The chapter investigates the fortunes of the Commentary through the period of its early printing in the three key centers for its reception history: Ashkenaz (the Franco-German sphere), Sefarad (Spain), and southern France. The chapter concludes with an account of Rashi’s status as the paramount Torah commentator as it is brightly underscored in data from the first half century of Hebrew printing. In the four centuries prior to print, the Commentary had circulated in hundreds of copies—an enormous number for a Hebrew work in the chirographic age, the focus of the overview here. With printing, the number of editions exploded, reaching some three thousand in three decades. The record of early printings points to the Commentary’s status as a foundational text transcending time and place and embodying a collective Jewish identity.

This chapter examines Broughton’s engagements with early modern Jewish communities which, like the rest of his interactions, were fraught with polemic, tension, and controversy. It starts with Broughton’s excitement at receiving a letter from an Abraham Reuben of Constantinople, whom Broughton believed to be a learned and authoritative Rabbi; whom Broughton’s enemies believed to be a convenient fiction of his own making; and who was in fact a minor poet with no religious authority. Despite the rumours of its forgery, Reuben’s letter pushed Broughton into a spree of missionary activity, leading to the first Hebrew printings in Amsterdam (1605–1606), and a public debate with David Farar, a Portuguese converso physician who had settled in the Netherlands. Beyond the confusions and miscommunications of these events, this chapter examines the broader impact they had on Broughton’s scholarship. Specifically, it argues that Broughton’s obsession with Jewish conversion deeply informed the approach he took to theological controversy and scholarship, by orientating him towards unusually historical and philological methods that were radically stripped of doctrinal and dogmatic concerns.

This chapter focuses on Ottoman hymnography. With the Ottoman conquest of Anatolia, Greece, and the Balkans from the Byzantines beginning with the capture of Bursa (Brusa) in 1326, the condition of Jews improved. The religious life of the Ottoman Jewish community was much enhanced by the installation of a Hebrew printing press in Constantinople. Among the leading rabbi-poets in the early Ottoman period were Šalom b. Joseph Enabi of Constantinople and Elia b. Samuel from Istip, in Macedonia. Like his Cretan colleagues, Enabi was attracted to the revival of classical studies in the Balkans. Other leading rabbi-poets include Mordecai Comtino, Elijah Ṣelebi, Menaḥem Tamar, and Elia Ha-Levi. The chapter then discusses how Solomon b. Mazal Ṭov rose to prominence in Constantinople. A prolific writer of sacred and secular hymns, Solomon b. Mazal Ṭov epitomizes the renaissance of Hebrew literature in an Ottoman Golden Age.

In recent years, numerous and wide-ranging efforts both in Europe and in North America have sought to recover and identify sources of Jewish culture and history. Digitization projects in libraries and archives have made accessible a great number of important ancient, medieval, and early modern manuscripts in high-quality reproductions. Moreover, many manuscript collections have been reexamined and newly cataloged; in several cases, long-forgotten or neglected manuscripts or fragments have come to light and have been made available for further research. Among the more prominent new websites in the field are those dealing with manuscript fragments or genizah material....

The Mishnah among Jews in the early modern period largely landed in two distinct spheres: one, as a text to study with commentaries for the sake of greater comprehension; and two, as a source of mystical inspiration, generally fulfilled through ritual recitation of Mishnaic texts. In the mid-seventeenth century, printers in Amsterdam, Cracow, Istanbul, and elsewhere targeted another, less rabbinically sophisticated readership growing through the development of print. Menasseh ben Israel—author, orator, and messianic enthusiast—served as a driving force, producing three editions in Amsterdam in small format without significant apparatus. The sparsity of the imprints indicates a desire to sell far and wide and speaks volumes about the publisher’s intention to reach new students of the Mishnah. This chapter discusses the editions in the context of book production, audience, and curriculum, as well as the specific religious scenario of Western Sephardic Jews in Amsterdam.