This article examines how communal activists, leaders, intellectuals, and the Yiddish press understood and reacted to charges regarding purported Jewish criminality, which accusers often linked to the need to curtail immigration to America. The Jewish self-image as a nonviolent people proved to be quite resilient, and one of the ways to reconcile the existence of Jewish criminals with that self-perception was to put the blame on the surrounding (American) influence, or to evoke generalized negative images of gentiles as a foil for applauding Jewish qualities. New York Jews construed their relations with the larger non-Jewish society as a continuation of old-world patterns of Jewish-gentile relations rather than a change or reversal of them. The criminal episodes demonstrated how a cultural net of transnational meanings shaped Jews' understanding and reaction to allegations against them.

This study presents the ideas about setting times for Torah study in the writings of R. Shneur Zalman of Liady (Rashaz) as one of the elements that formed the inclusive concept of mystical experience in the Ḥabad movement. The article argues that in his teachings Rashaz invested common experiences and the precepts of normative, non-mystical Judaism with mystical meanings, and thus proposed a new, inclusive concept of mystical experience. The reinterpretation of the precept of setting times for Torah study in Rashaz's writings was one of the factors that greatly contributed to the re-evaluation of the role of ordinary people in religious life, and to shaping Ḥabad's inclusivist vision of mysticism.

In 1597 King Philip II of Spain expelled the Jews from Milan at the end of a thirty-year power struggle between secular and religious Italian authorities and Spanish imperial powers. These conflicts reveal that the expulsion followed less from Philip II's personal feelings about the Jews than from his approach to governing and the necessity to preserve and increase his power in Italy. They also expose the fluctuating boundaries of imperial powers in distant territories resistant to accepting them, highlighting both the extent and the limits of Spanish rule in Italy. Examined in detail and in its larger historical context, the case of Milan elucidates the mechanisms of an expulsion, foregrounding the intricate political, financial, and religious issues that led up to the last Spanish expulsion in Europe.

Food and feasting narratives illuminate the social politics of disaster in the Babylonian Talmud's lengthiest account of the destruction of Jerusalem (Bavli Gittin 55b–58a). Key moments in this sugya center around food: the shame of Bar Kamẓa at a feast sparks his eventual betrayal of the Jews, the tale of Marta bat Boethus recounts the starvation of the wealthiest woman in Jerusalem, and Caesar destroys Tur Malka in retaliation for an opulent banquet. This article contextualizes these rabbinic narratives within the social politics of Roman and Sasanian banquet culture, while also parsing the intersections of gender, class, and social status in these disaster tales. Through its critical representation of high-class oblivion, the sugya calls attention to the ethical cost of elite status by highlighting the physical and moral dangers of social privilege. Its stories of luxurious eating emphasize how corrosive concerns about status and shame often lead elites to protect their private interests by sacrificing the well-being of the broader community. Its feasting narratives assert that wealth, luxury, and social privilege distance elites from the awareness of suffering in their midst.

The introduction of non-halakhic material into a halakhic section of a classical rabbinic work is a redactional choice that can substantially affect the interpretation of both kinds of material. Understanding the relationship between the non-halakhic material and the surrounding halakhic material can affect one's assessment of the redactor's activity. Conversely, assumptions concerning the redactor's activity can affect the interpretation of the non-halakhic material.

The relationship between halakhic and non-halakhic material and the implications of that relationship for redaction critical investigations are particularly complex in the case of the Tosefta, because the latter is not a completely independent composition. Some scholars see the Tosefta as an interpretative work based on the Mishna while others argue for a degree of redactional independence. What then is the proper context for the interpretation of materials found in the Tosefta—the Tosefta itself or the Mishnah? The answer to this question will crucially affect our interpretation of the non-halakhic material included in the Tosefta and the relation of that material to the halakhic material. This article demonstrates the difficulty in determining the proper redactional context for the interpretation of Toseftan passages that contain halakhic and non-halakhic material by examining the story of Rabbi Yehuda walking behind his teachers in T. Berakhot 1.2. The reason for inserting the story can be understood in three ways, corresponding to three different definitions of the “halakhic context,” in which the Mishnah has a greater or lesser controlling influence over the Tosefta.

Much has been written on rabbinic polysemy over the past two decades, and yet the precise nature and dating of this phenomenon remain a matter of controversy. This note, which aims to help clarify the issue, is a response to Steven Fraade's essay, “Rabbinic Polysemy and Pluralism Revisited: Between Praxis and Thematization,” published in this journal. Surveys of the history of the polysemy debates are readily available; my present concern is with Fraade's position, and the positions to which he is responding, chief among them Daniel Boyarin's claim that rabbinic polysemy is a relatively late, post-tannaitic, phenomenon. Fraade sets out to refute this claim, and his essay provides a dozen passages that serve as “countertexts to [Boyarin's] arguments” (5). The aim of this response is to show that the rabbinic sources in question are not countertexts, and that polysemy is, in fact, a post-tannaitic phenomenon.

In an era of massive university budget cuts and pervasive malaise regarding the future of the humanities, cinema and media studies continue to be a growth industry. Many academic fields have been paying increasing attention to film, in terms of both curriculum development and research. Jewish studies is no exception. Since 2011, a boom in publications has included a range of new books that deal with Jews on screen, Jewish themes in cinema, and the construction of Jewish identity through film. To assess what these recent titles contribute to Jewish cinema studies, though, requires assessing the parameters of the field—and that is no easy task. The definition of what belongs is as elastic as the boundaries of Jewish identity and as perplexing as the perennial question, who is a Jew? Consequently, the field is wildly expansive, potentially encompassing the many geographical locales where films on Jewish topics have been produced as well as the multiple languages and cinematic traditions within which such films have emerged. At issue are not just numerous national cinemas, but also transnational productions and international histories. Yiddish film, for instance, was produced in Poland, the Soviet Union, the US, Argentina, and other places as well. Compounding the challenge of assessing the field of Jewish film is the fact that Jewish studies overlaps with Holocaust studies, itself a vast enterprise that has grown dramatically over the past two decades. A simple WorldCat search, restricted to scholarly books from respectable academic presses, turns up dozens of titles on cinema and the Holocaust published since the year 2000. Not surprisingly, the long-standing debates on “what is Jewish literature?” have morphed into controversy over “what is Jewish cinema”?