Jewish Concepts of Divine Oneness

 

Jewish Concepts of Divine Oneness (Cambridge University Press, 2024), by Job Y. Jindo

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

The concept of God’s oneness stands at the very heart of Judaism. From the thunderous declaration of the Shema to the theological reflections of medieval philosophers and mystics, Jewish thinkers across the centuries have grappled with what it means to say that “Hashem is One.” In his new book, Jewish Concepts of Divine Oneness (Cambridge University Press, 2024), scholar Job Y. Jindo offers a concise yet penetrating overview of the different models of monotheism that have emerged in Jewish tradition from antiquity to the present.

As part of Cambridge’s Elements in Religion and Monotheism series, this short volume is both scholarly and accessible, designed to guide readers — Jewish and non-Jewish alike — through the diverse understandings of Divine oneness in the Jewish canon. Jindo’s central claim is that while belief in God’s oneness is a constant in Jewish life, its precise meaning can vary in different strains of Jewish thought. What unites the various formulations is not a fixed theology, but a shared commitment to the oneness of the Divine, however it may be conceived.

To chart this evolution, Jindo divides Jewish intellectual history into four major periods: Biblical, Rabbinic, Medieval, and Modern, showing how scholars from each period engaged with the concept of Divine oneness. Each of these sections contains a thoughtful introduction to the theological tendencies of its era amongst Jewish scholars, with ample references for further study. A robust bibliography at the end provides readers with an excellent roadmap to the vast literature surrounding this topic.

The Biblical Phase highlights what Jindo (following scholars like Yechezkel Kaufmann and Benjamin D. Sommer) terms the "qualitative" monotheism of the Hebrew Bible. Rather than affirming merely the numerical singularity of God, the Bible presents a deity whose uniqueness lies in His absolute freewill, creative power, and personal relationship with humanity. Drawing on the prophetic literature and creation narratives, Jindo underscores that Biblical Monotheism is deeply relational: the God of Israel is not merely a remote abstraction, but a living personality who actively engages with His people.

The Rabbinic Phase continues this relational framework but channels it through a new center: the Torah. In post-Temple Judaism, the rabbis upheld the primacy of Divine law and study, which according to scholars like Boyarin led to the development of a theology in which the Torah itself becomes the primary conduit to God. Jindo provocatively describes this development as a kind of "binitarianism" — an unfortunate and awkward term (as discussed below) in order to highlight the overly-exalted status of Torah in rabbinic theology, where it is seen not merely as a legal code, but as a form of Divinity Itself.

In outlining the Medieval Phase, Jindo offers a well-informed contrast between the rationalist philosophers (typified by Maimonides) who emphasized Divine simplicity and incorporeality, and the Kabbalists who embraced a more dynamic, multi-aspected vision of God through ideas like the sefirot. Jindo is especially effective in showing how each of these systems seeks to preserve Divine unity, albeit through very different metaphysical frameworks. Another point that Jindo stresses in this context is how the cold, abstract God of the philosophers (Unmovable Mover) represents something of a break from the traditional Biblical and Rabbinic conceptions of God as a living Entity who engaged with His creation.

In the Modern Period, however, the study somewhat falters. Jindo focuses almost exclusively on marginal and secular Jewish figures like Baruch Spinoza, Sigmund Freud, Viktor Frankl, as well as to antinomian, heterodox rabbis, namely Abraham J. Heschel and Mordecai Kaplan. In focusing on these five figures, the author skips over much of mainline Jewish thought throughout the Renaissance Period and Early Modern period. Moreover, while each of these thinkers contributed important insights into Jewish thought, they were either openly anti-religious or aligned with denominational movements that have since distanced themselves from their theological legacies. The views of these figures certainly do not represent important Jewish views on the topic in the same way that the discussions cited earlier do.

Meanwhile, central voices of contemporary Orthodox Jewish theology — such as Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner, Rabbi Moshe Shapiro, and Rabbi Shnayor Z. Burton — are not even alluded to. And important Jewish philosophers like Franz Rosenzweig, Martin Buber, and Hermann Cohen —receive little more than passing mention or are omitted entirely. By focusing squarely on Modern thinkers peripheral to mainstream Judaism — who were often openly critical of halakhic tradition — Jindo bypasses the rich theological discourse within both contemporary Orthodoxy and serious non-Orthodox Jewish philosophy. This exclusion is especially glaring given the stated aim of presenting diverse models of Divine oneness.

Throughout the book, Jindo returns frequently to the Shema prayer (Deuteronomy 6:4) as a litmus test for theological interpretation. He thoughtfully surveys the various ways in which this central verse — “Hear, O Israel: Hashem our God, Hashem is One” (which is but one of many ways of translating that passage) — has been understood across the centuries. Whether seen as a statement of exclusive loyalty, Divine unity, or cosmic uniqueness, the Shema serves as a window into the diversity of Jewish monotheistic expression.

And yet, while Jindo’s typological approach is often illuminating, it also raises concerns. His decision to describe Rabbinic Monotheism as a form of “binitarianism” is particularly problematic. He argues that the rabbinic exaltation of Torah borders on treating it as a Divine entity in its own right. But this misunderstands the rabbinic position: Torah is not a second god, but rather a revelation of the One God’s will. There is no duality here — no theological dyad. If one wished to explore the possibility of binitarian structures within Judaism, far more appropriate candidates would be found in the thought of the Raavad I (HaEmunah HaRamah), or in the dualistic speculations of Abraham Miguel Cardozo and other Sabbatian thinkers. But those theorists are also peripheral and need not be treated in an introductory book like this one.

Additionally, the book’s conclusion departs from its otherwise neutral tone to offer a fairly explicit critique of theological absolutism and a valorization of pluralism and relativism. While Judaism indeed celebrates a multiplicity of voices, it also draws boundaries. There remains an Overton window of acceptable belief. To ignore this is to misrepresent the very tradition Jindo seeks to elucidate. The book would have been stronger had it engaged more directly with thinkers such as Jan Assmann, who explored the boundary-drawing function of monotheism through the “Mosaic distinction” between truth and falsehood.

Nevertheless, Jewish Concepts of Divine Oneness succeeds in its primary aim: to present a readable, thought-provoking introduction to one of Judaism’s most foundational (and possibly complex) theological claims. It is a valuable resource for students, scholars, and general readers alike. With all its limitations, Jindo’s study invites us to return anew to the question at the heart of Jewish faith: what does it mean to proclaim that “Hashem is One”?

The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel — Exodus

The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel — Exodus (Koren Publishers Jerusalem, 2020), edited by David Arnovitz

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This beautifully produced volume features contributions from several scholars and is visually stunning. It includes high-quality graphics, maps, and photographs of ancient inscriptions, artifacts, and even Medieval artwork. The typesetting is elegant, making it an attractive coffee-table book that draws in the reader. It includes color images, including reconstructions and archaeological finds, such as maps illustrating the Israelites’ travels through the desert. However, this reviewer occasionally found it jarring to read sacred verses alongside images of idolatrous deities or partially unclothed figures.

While the book may be compared to Mossad HaRav Kook’s Da'at Mikra series, the key differences are that this volume is in English and places far less emphasis on traditional rabbinic commentary. It also does not provide a continuous commentary on the entire text of Exodus, instead focusing on select verses and themes. The articles consist of attributed contributions from many different scholars in a sort of “encyclopedic” format. Those articles are informative but tend to present basic, accessible information, and there are no footnotes or source citations, making it less suitable as a scholarly reference.

The layout is highly thoughtful: icons are used to indicate the type of article (e.g., Egyptology, Language, and Near Eastern), and the visuals are in line with the book’s overall aesthetic sophistication. The "Egyptology" and "Near East" sections aim to contextualize the Torah by comparing or contrasting it with Egyptian and Mesopotamian culture and mythology. This highly comparative approach is one of the book’s most intriguing aspects. For example, the Egyptology entries often highlight how Biblical references to Egyptian culture subtly subvert those ideas to emphasize the supremacy of the God of Israel over nature and pagan gods. Most of the Egyptology entries were written by Dr. Racheli Shalomi-Hen of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. That said, not all entries labeled "Egyptology" are properly categorized. For instance, the etymology of the names Shifra and Puah (p. 8) is traced to Semitic/Hebrew roots, not Egyptian ones.

The “Flora and Fauna” sections were apparently penned by Dr. Zohar Amar from Bar Ilan University, a scholar whose work I have been following for some time now. But in this limited framework, those entries were obviously abbreviated and shorter than Dr. Amar’s more thorough work in his books on Biblical and rabbinic flora/fauna.

The editors wisely steer clear of most chronological debates, probably due to the messiness of the topic. However, the volume does perpetuate several factual inaccuracies that have crept into popular consciousness. For example, it claims that Exodus 12:2 is the rabbinic source for the requirement that Nisan be in spring (p. 63), whereas more accurate sources include Exodus 13:4, 23:15, 34:18, and Deuteronomy 16:1. The book also states (there) that the fixed Jewish calendar was established during the Second Temple period, even though rabbinic tradition attributes that development to Hillel II, who lived in the 4^th century CE, well after the Temple’s destruction.

Furthermore, the volume claims that tefillin are worn “on the forehead” (p. 72), an assertion belied by normative halakhic practice. On that same page, the book claims that tefillin were found at Qumran that correspond to both Rashi and Rabbeinu Tam’s opinions in how to order the texts of the tefillin, but that myth has already been dispelled close to twenty years ago in Dr. Yehudah Cohn's 2007 article in Jewish Studies Quarterly. The book also asserts that the name of Pharaoh’s daughter who rescued Moses is unknowable from the biblical text (p. 12), neglecting to mention the Midrashic identification of her as Bithiah based on I Chronicles 4:18.

Some of these oversights and others like them reflect a broader tendency in the volume: it favors archaeology, realia, and cultural studies over traditional textual exegesis. The commentary on the Exodus narrative, in particular, leans heavily on Egyptology, sometimes at the expense of classic Jewish interpretations.

Each page includes the original Hebrew Masoretic text alongside a dignified English translation by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, accompanied by the thematic articles and visuals that are the centerpieces of this work. However, despite Koren’s generally impeccable reputation for Hebrew textual accuracy, this edition contains several proofreading errors. Extra letters that are not part of the Masoretic text appear in multiple locations — e.g., two extra yuds on page 13, an extra vav on page 32, an extra kaf on page 50, and another vav on page 62. Additionally, the colon that marks the end of a verse is sometimes layed over a letter instead of preceding it (for examples, see page 32, 61).

This review focused primarily on the first part of Exodus (chapters 1–17), which covers the narrative of the Israelites' liberation from Egypt. The rest of the book should be treated separately, but in short, those later sections of Exodus primarily offer a legal code (roughly chapters 18–24), and a lengthy account of the mishkan (“tabernacle”) with its associated appurtenances and paraphernalia (roughly chapters 25–40). In the legal sections, the articles mostly compare and contrast the Torah’s laws to the laws in other Near Eastern milieus. The mishkan section is adorned with exquisite photographs that imagined how those components may have looked, with the scholarly articles mostly written by Rabbi Menachem Makeover and Professor Zohar Amar.

In terms of the book’s back matter, it contains an eclectic glossary that defines Jewish and Egyptian terms and situates them within their proper context for readers who might not otherwise be familiar with those ideas. It also contains a bibliography that offers sources and further supplementary reading to the book’s article (arranged by chapter and verse where the article appears), extensive photo credits, and a helpful index.

In conclusion, The Koren Tanakh of the Land of Israel — Exodus succeeds as a visually-engaging and accessible introduction to the world of the Exodus story, especially for readers interested in historical, archaeological, and cultural background. Its stunning design and curated visuals make it ideal for casual reading or display, and its articles offer useful context for understanding the Torah’s setting and significance. However, those seeking in-depth engagement with traditional rabbinic commentary or rigorous academic sourcing may find its approach too limited. While the book brings much to the table, it would be best used alongside more traditional or scholarly works, rather than as a standalone reference.

Articles of Faith: Traditional Jewish Belief in the Internet Era

Articles of Faith: Traditional Jewish Belief in the Internet Era (Kodesh Press, 2024) by Rabbi Gil Student

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review) 

In an era where ideological polarization often drowns out thoughtful discourse, Rabbi Gil Student’s Articles of Faith emerges as a beacon of intellectual integrity and nuanced traditionalism. This meticulously curated collection of essays, building on ideas discussed on his widely-read blog Torah Musings (formerly Hirhurim), does far more than merely rehash well-trodden arguments — it engages with contemporary Jewish dilemmas in a manner that is at once deeply-rooted in classical sources and refreshingly-independent of partisan dogma. 

One of the most striking features of Rabbi Student’s work is his refusal to be pigeonholed into any simplistic ideological category. While some might lazily attempt to categorize him as "Modern Orthodox" or "right-wing," such labels fail to capture the depth and independence of his thought. Perhaps the most fitting descriptor, though still imperfect, would be a "right-wing Modern Orthodox machmir," a label that befits a thinker who takes mesorah (“Jewish Tradition”) and halacha (“Jewish Law”) with the utmost seriousness, while still remaining unafraid to critique prevailing assumptions, even those held by the more stringent sectors of Orthodoxy.  Or perhaps we ought to rehabilitate the moniker “Centrist Orthodoxy” for this author’s forceful rejection of Open Orthodoxy and the now-defunct Edah organization that sat on the left fringes of Orthodoxy. On the other hand, many people accept Gil Student the person as “open-minded Yeshivish” and would laugh at the suggestion that he is in any way modern. In fact, the Yeshiva communities of Chaim Berlin and Chofetz Chaim accept him as one of their own. Perhaps then the point is not that the author does not fit into any box, but that he fits into multiple boxes.

The author’s intellectual independence is evident in his willingness to challenge mainstream Ultra-Orthodox positions when he believes them to be misguided. His robust defense of Rabbi Natan Slifkin during the so-called "Slifkin Affair" — even going so far as to distribute Slifkin’s works through his Yashar Books imprint — demonstrates Rabbi Student’s commitment to truth over tribal loyalty. Similarly, his critique of the 2012 anti-internet asifah (rabbinic gathering) reveals a thinker who understands that rabbinic bans are not the solution to the challenges of technology. History, of course, has vindicated his stance, as the internet has become an indispensable tool for Torah study and communal connectivity despite earlier fears. 

A recurring theme in Articles of Faith is the delicate balance between upholding rabbinic authority while acknowledging the realities of a post-modern, digitally-saturated world. Several essays grapple with this tension, offering nuanced perspectives on how traditional Jewish leadership can retain its stature in an age where information (and cynicism) is readily accessible. One particularly compelling essay touts the indispensable role of the "local rabbi" as opposed to the growing trend of turning to great rabbis from outside the community for guidance about communal affairs. Another penetrating discussion dissects the limitations of AI (“artificial intelligence”) in psak (“halachic decision-making”), demonstrating that while technology can serve as a useful tool, it can never replicate the holistic judgment of a trained posek. As the author makes clear, no man-made algorithm or computer program can replace the human intuition, empathy, and da’as Torah (Torah-guided wisdom) of a flesh-and-blood spiritual guide.

Besides the struggles with technology, other contemporary issues discussed in the book at great length include feminism, with a full chapter on the mechitzah controversy and another full chapter on women’s rabbinic ordination. In both of these chapters, the author takes a fairly traditionalist approach, buttressed with relevant sources. Yet, the essay on women’s rabbinic ordination further exemplifies Rabbi Student’s nuanced traditionalism. While he unequivocally rejects the innovation of female rabbis within Orthodoxy, his reasoning extends beyond reflexive conservatism and simple yielding to rabbinic fiat. Instead, he essentially argues that the rupture in communal norms that would result from ordaining women would inevitably lead to fragmentation and undermine the very unity that holds the various factions of Orthodoxy together. This conclusion does not reflect mere reactionism, but is a carefully considered stance grounded in both halachic precedent and sociological realism. 

One of the most intellectually stimulating sections of this book engages with the parameters of acceptable Jewish belief. Rabbi Student respectfully but firmly pushes back against Professor Marc B. Shapiro’s The Limits of Orthodox Theology, which suggests that historical Jewish thought was far more theologically diverse than contemporary Orthodoxy admits. Rabbi Student argues that the contours of acceptable Jewish belief are not as porous as Shapiro presents them because the rabbis of any given generation have the authority to concretize any principle of belief that they feel necessary in defining who is considered a heretic (especially because of the practical Halachic ramifications of that status). Thus, even though the author admits that some legitimate Jewish authorities in earlier times did not accept all of Maimonides 13 principles as popularly formulated or some aspects of those principles, the later rabbinic consensus has the authority to crystallize the boundaries of belief and decide what is considered beyond the pale.

This discussion is not merely academic; it speaks to a broader struggle within contemporary Orthodoxy: how to maintain fidelity to tradition while engaging with a world that often views religious dogma with skepticism. Rabbi Student’s answer is neither wholesale rejection of modernity nor uncritical assimilation but a thoughtful synthesis — one that demands intellectual honesty without sacrificing halachic and hashkafic integrity.  Under that rubric, this book does not shy away from some of the most contentious debates in today’s Orthodox world: 

• ·         Biblical Criticism & the Oral Torah: Rabbi Student provides a robust defense of the traditional understanding of Torah min HaShamayim (divine origin of Scripture) while engaging — without outright dismissing — the challenges posed by academic scholarship. 
• ·         Science and Torah: Revisiting the Slifkin-Meiselman debate, he argues for a model of reconciliation that neither ignores scientific discovery nor compromises fundamental tenets of faith. 
• ·         The Abrahamic Family’s Observance: He offers a compelling case for the traditional view that the Patriarchs kept the Torah, countering those who mock this view as rejecting a legitimate rabbinic tradition. 
• ·         Citing Non-Orthodox Scholars: In a particularly nuanced discussion, he delineates when and how it may be appropriate to engage with scholarship from outside Orthodox circles without legitimizing theological and antinomian deviations. 
• ·         Other essays are dedicated to the question of how contemporary Religious Zionism can fit between secular Zionism and Haredi anti-Zionism, and the age-old question of when one is obligated to forgive even the worst sinners (like terrorists).

Rabbi Student’s admiration for the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt"l is evident in his thoughtful treatment of Rabbi Sacks’ universalist vision. He defends Rabbi Sacks’ assertion that God speaks to other nations through their own religious traditions — not by endorsing those traditions as halachically valid, but by recognizing their role in steering humanity toward ethical monotheism. In doing so, Rabbi student focuses on certain positive aspects of those religions as paving the way towards a global ethical monotheism and weaning the world away from paganism, even if not jumping to those end-goals immediately. Another essay tackles Rabbi Sacks’ controversial interpretation of "loving the stranger," demonstrating that even classical sources extend this concept beyond the technical definitions of ger toshav or ger tzedek. 

Throughout the book, Rabbi Student’s analysis is firmly grounded in a mastery of both classical halachic literature and contemporary scholarly discourse, allowing him to navigate complex issues with both authority and nuance. Time and again, he returns to fundamental questions that lie at the heart of Orthodox engagement with modernity: What is the boundary between aggadah and binding halacha? How do we reconcile the Chasam Sofer’s famous injunction chadash assur min ha-Torah ("innovation is forbidden by the Torah") with the undeniable reality that Jewish practice has always evolved in response to changing circumstances? His treatment of these tensions avoids oversimplification, acknowledging that while the mesorah must be preserved, not all adaptations constitute unacceptable breaches.

This careful balancing act culminates in his final chapter, where he offers a pragmatic approach to religious decision-making: rather than expecting every individual to independently weigh halachic controversies — or, conversely, demanding blind conformity to a single authority — he advises readers to seek out a rabbi whose approach resonates with them intellectually and spiritually, and to follow that guidance consistently. Crucially, he argues that as long as one remains anchored in authentic tradition and submits to rabbinic authority (rather than cherry-picking opinions to suit personal preferences), then the specific path one takes on disputed matters is of secondary importance. This theme, though not always stated explicitly, undergirds the entire book: fidelity to the halachic process matters more than rigid uniformity in outcome.

Perhaps the book’s most pressing, over-arching concern is how to sustain religious conviction and rabbinic authority in a post-modern world saturated with skepticism and unfiltered information. Rabbi Student recognizes that the internet’s democratization of knowledge and erosion of traditional hierarchies poses a unique existential challenge to communal norms. Yet, as noted earlier, he resolutely opposes reactionary solutions like sweeping bans on technology, arguing persuasively (and prophetically) that such measures are both impractical and counterproductive. Instead, he advocates for a more sustainable approach: deepening one’s study of mussar and ethical self-refinement to cultivate an internal compass that resists the pitfalls of the digital age. In his view, the antidote to modernity’s chaos is not retreat but resilience — forging individuals whose commitment to Torah values is so deeply internalized that external temptations lose their power.

Rabbi Gil Student is no armchair theorist. An ordained Yeshiva University graduate, an active member of the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA), and a prominent figure in the Rabbinical Alliance of America/Igud HaRabbonim, his insights are informed by decades of communal leadership. In addition to dedicating himself to Torah scholarship and publishing (including editorial roles at the Orthodox Union), he has long worked in the finance industry — a background that perhaps contributes to his pragmatic, analytically rigorous approach. 

As a longtime reader of Rabbi Student’s writings — dating back to his early, anonymous blogging days — I can attest to the enduring relevance of these essays. Even before they were printed in this collection, I read many of these essays multiple times. (Full disclosure: One essay in this volume was originally penned in response to something I myself wrote.)

In summation, Articles of Faith is more than just a compilation of essays. In some ways, it is a meaningful manifesto for thoughtful, principled traditionalism in an age of upheaval. Rabbi Student’s voice is one of rare clarity: deeply committed to halacha and mesorah, yet unafraid to engage with complexity. For anyone grappling with the intersection of tradition and modernity, this book is not merely recommended — it is required reading. 

Rabbinic Scholarship in the Context of Late Antique Scholasticism: The Development of the Talmud Yerushalmi

 

Rabbinic Scholarship in the Contextof Late Antique Scholasticism: The Development of the Talmud Yerushalmi (Bloomsbury Academic, 2025), by Catherine Hezser

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This work is a significant contribution to the study of rabbinic literature — especially the Talmud Yerushalmi (Jerusalemic Talmud) — and its place within the broader intellectual landscape of late antiquity. The book provides a thorough and scholarly examination of how the rabbinic circles in Roman-Byzantine Palestine compared and contrasted with their contemporary Graeco-Roman and early Christian counterparts, particularly in terms of educational structures, intellectual pursuits, and compilation techniques. In doing so, Hezser’s scholarship represents a valuable resource for understanding the development of the Talmud Yerushalmi and the broader cultural and scholastic environment in which it emerged.

The author begins by positioning the rabbis of the Talmud Yerushalmi as intellectuals on a par with their Graeco-Roman contemporaries, despite the differences in the subject matter of their studies. She highlights the rabbis’ self-identification as “sages,” and draws parallels between their scholastic culture and that of Greek-educated early Christian writers. This comparison sets the stage for her exploration of the educational frameworks within which the rabbis operated, including the disciple circles that mirrored those of Hellenistic and Roman philosophers, Roman jurists, and early Christian writers.

In the first part of the book, Hezser examines the settings of rabbinic learning — whether in formal study sessions, informal interactions, or public lectures — and discusses the extent to which ancient higher education can be considered to have been institutionalized. As she demonstrates, rabbinic learning could happen in seated study sessions (where a master taught a close circle of students) and in everyday life and outdoor settings (like when students attended to the master’s personal needs, or even when walking with the master in the marketplace). There is much discussion about seated learning sessions versus impromptu ones. Furthermore, the author suggests that some of said rabbinic students would have been members of their masters’ immediate family, whereas others were outside pupils who came to study with them. In the context of Graeco-Roman education she also delves into the question whether the actual studying took place in a dedicated building and concludes that late antique higher study usually took place in disciple circles rather than institutionalized schools. 

One of the book’s strengths, which the second part focuses on, is its detailed analysis of the transmission of rabbinic knowledge from teacher to student and from one generation to the next. She argues that transmission was primarily oral, but also seems to have included limited note-taking for personal reference. Indeed, the author stresses the point that rabbinic culture was averse to producing written collections of individual rabbis’ teachings, because their dissemination could have led to halakhic confusion amongst the public. Within the framework of oral transmission, the author brings to the fore evidence of reliable repeaters, who would simply repeat verbatim the teachings of earlier sages — even if the repeaters themselves were not necessarily sages. To that end, Hezser explores the role of tradents (transmitters) in preserving and passing down rabbinic traditions across generations, often through legal statements and stories in ways that parallel similar methods of continuing traditions in late antiquity.

She also emphasizes the impact of network connections amongst rabbis that determined which traditions were perpetuated and selected to be included in the Talmud. The nodes within those networks may have crisscrossed both horizontally (between rabbinic colleagues, usually located within close geographic proximity) and vertically (in teacher-student relationships). This discussion is particularly illuminating, as it situates rabbinic scholarship within the broader context of late antique methods of knowledge transmission in which similar networks existed to differing degrees.

Hezser’s comparison of the Talmud Yerushalmi to Hellenistic philosophical compilations and collections of Roman jurists’ law is another highlight. She argues that the Yerushalmi’s pluralistic approach to juxtaposing opposing opinions more closely hews the trends in philosophical compilations by Diogenes Laertius and Plutarch and in Justinian’s Digest, in contrast to the more dogmatic tendencies of single-authored early Christian works (which sought to tout one true version of “the truth,” instead of allowing discourse on a multiplicity of interpretations). This perspective underscores the rabbinic emphasis on dialogue and debate. Moreover, she sees parallels between the rabbinic penchant for viewing rabbinic scholars as paragons of lived virtue (not just important theoretical sources of information) in ways that are similar to how ancient philosophers were viewed (as not just purveyors of philosophical truth, but as followers of those truths in their personal lives and lived experience).

Furthermore, Hezser delves into the judicial role of the rabbis, drawing parallels with Roman jurists, which adds another layer to her comparative analysis. In their community-facing roles, rabbinic sages also preached/lectured to the public and their students also learned from them at those events. Rabbis also fielded questions from the public at large and their students often stood by to absorb the subject-matter and be able to later relay their master’s rulings.

The third part of this book is dedicated to discussing the editing and redaction of the Yerushalmi. Unlike other works from antiquity, rabbinic literary output was never attributed to a single author; rather, it functioned as a digest incorporating multiple voices, with some degree of editorial shaping. The author examines the nature of this editing, particularly how the redactors of the Yerushalmi collected, selected, organized and combined the various traditions they received, arranging them in a thematic manner, following the structure of the Mishnah but going beyond it in their halakhic discussions. One interesting question she considers in this context is the relationship between the editors and scribes. Some of the editors may have been scribes themselves, but they also used scribes for as secretaries note-taking and copy-editing purposes. Hezser also expands on Rabbi Shaul Lieberman’s assertion that the Bavot tractates of the Yerushalmi represent an early recension in its development and editing, explaining what this might entail and identifying the tell-tale signs of this more rudimentary editorial layer.

Despite this work’s great contribution to scholarship on the topic, one may disagree with some of the suggestions and formulations. For example, in discussing the nature of the oral transmission of rabbinic teachings, she writes: “If written collections circulated, the power of the rabbi as a living incorporation of rabbinic knowledge would be diminished” (p. 81). Here the author may have overlooked the rabbis’ own stated reasons for preferring oral transmission, namely that orality mirrors the mode in which God Himself revealed the Torah at Sinai. Although she does address this argument later in the book (Part II, Section 2), she does not explore it further.

Likewise, the author may have overstated the case for the unreliability of attributions in rabbinic literature, treating them largely in the context of the literary agendas, of the editors rather than as historically-grounded traditions (pp. 133–149). In reality, many of the difficulties with such attributions stem from the manuscript transmission of these texts after their initial “editing.” These issues are often mitigated by variant readings preserved in manuscripts and in medieval sources. That said, this reviewer acknowledges that attributional inconsistencies are indeed more prevalent and problematic in the Jerusalem Talmud than in the Babylonian Talmud.

For a book that uses the Jerusalem Talmud as its main example for exploring rabbinic compilatory techniques in late antiquity, the author does not cite the text as frequently as one might expect. This is probably due to the many subject areas she addresses, which leaves limited space for detailed analysis of specific texts. Moreover, when she draws on examples from the Talmud and other sources—such as the New Testament, the Dead Sea Scrolls, or Roman jurists—she assumes a high level of prior knowledge on the part of the reader. She sometimes presents these examples without providing sufficient background or context for non-academic readers, using them as evidence for her claims without adequately introducing or explaining them. Perhaps this is more of a shortcoming of the reviewer than the author.

While the writing is dense and academic and therefore most suitable for academic readers, the study is well-sourced and meticulously researched. The author poses important and thought-provoking questions, even if her answers and suppositions may not convince everyone. Her application of insights from Graeco-Roman and Byzantine Christian contexts to rabbinic literature may sometimes be speculative, but she demonstrates impressive familiarity with a wide range of late antique sources and is undeniably a scholar of considerable erudition. She is certainly at-home in many different corpora of writings from late antiquity and draws from that body of knowledge to benefit our understanding of the formation of the Talmud Yerushalmi. In my final assessment, this book is a deeply scholarly and ambitious work that sheds new light on the Talmud Yerushalmi and its place within the intellectual world of late antiquity. While some of its conclusions and hypotheses may be contested, the book is a must-read for scholars of rabbinic literature and late antique studies, offering fresh perspectives and stimulating ideas that will undoubtedly inspire further research and discussion.