Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen, the Maharam of Padua, remains an influential religious and historical figure both for his contributions to Talmudic and rabbinical interpretation and for his role as the father of several noteworthy rabbinical lineages. Jewish genealogists as well as descendants of the Katzenellenbogen lineage have long attempted to account for over 500 years of progeny amidst the tumultuous history of exile and diaspora of the Jewish people. The information is fractured, but as research improves, gaps in the pedigrees are gradually filled in.

One recent innovation that has bridged many of these gaps and confirmed conclusions drawn from oral accounts is genetic genealogy. A 2016 pioneering research study conducted by Drs. Jeffrey Mark Paull, Neil Rosenstein, and Jeffrey Briskman, utilizes Y-DNA testing in conjunction with existent family pedigrees, oral histories, and historical migration patterns, to conclude that the Katzenellenbogen lineage is of Sephardic origin.[1] While DNA evidence has proved an essential scientific tool to uncovering the past, mistrust in genetic genealogy persists, and it is necessary to reinforce genetic discoveries with more traditional evidence. Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s published writings demonstrate a distinct Sephardic influence. This study seeks to utilize his works to provide literary and historical evidence for the conclusion genetic data has already uncovered: that the ancestry and therefore the lineage of Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen is of Sephardic origin.

In 16^th century Europe, differences in legal interpretations of the Talmud divided Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews to unprecedented levels. Sephardim studied Talmud almost exclusively through the writings of “The Sephardi” Maimonides. Meanwhile, Ashkenazim referred directly to the Talmudic text and to supplemental teachings by fellow Ashkenazi scholars.[2] Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s writings, however, demonstrate a heavy affinity for Sephardic teachings, most notably in his Responsa to Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. His compulsion to draw upon the Talmudic interpretation of Maimonides rather than writings of Ashkenazi origin staunchly contradicted the norms of the Jewish communities in 16^th century Europe. This inclination to examine both Sephardic and Ashkenazi texts was extraordinarily rare. This study finds that only the few rabbis who had been exposed to both communities, typically individuals expelled from Spain who had migrated eastward, exhibited such an open-minded perspective.

The 1492 Spanish Edict of Expulsion, or Alhambra Decree, required all practicing Jews residing in the Kingdoms of Castille and Aragon to leave their homes and the Kingdom.[3] Jews who remained in Spain were forced to convert to Catholicism or were otherwise put to death. As a result of the expulsion, an estimated 40,000 – 350,000 Jews left Spain, though many families had resided there for centuries.[4] The ones who remained expunged any evidence of their Jewish identities. They destroyed documentation such as family pedigrees for fear of the consequences of their Jewish pasts becoming known.

The expulsion began an era of Jewish persecution which would be unmatched until the Holocaust under Nazi Germany.[5] Jews who fled concerned themselves primarily with survival and quickly assimilated into Jewish communities throughout the Mediterranean. The first decades after the expulsion saw Iberian Jews settle into Jewish communities with a variety of different geographic and ethnic identities throughout southern Europe.[6] The shared experience of the exile led many Iberian Jews to identify with their Sephardic heritage and establish synagogues that preserved their traditions. Others were eager to leave behind the turmoil of the expulsion and joined Ashkenazi communities.[7] Integration into Ashkenazi synagogues was especially common amongst individuals or single families. Once assimilated, the turbulence of the diaspora encouraged them to favor secrecy and conceal traces of their origins.[8]

Spanish entrants into Ashkenazi communities adopted the local customs and usually changed their family names. Genealogist Max Markreich writes, “In later times, most Jews were not aware of the origin of their family names since these had been disguised over the years or had been translated into a vernacular Hebrew or into another language. Many Sefardim, for example, translated their Spanish family names into Frisian or into another language after their arrival in a new place of refuge… Frequently, especially in southern Germany, Jews were forced by governmental decree to change their names if they were of biblical origin.”[9] Rabbi Katzenellenbogen adopted the name, “Katzenellenbogen” after the town in southern Germany from which he emigrated before settling in Padua, Italy.[10] Later, as he gained notoriety, Rabbi Katzenellenbogen adopted the titles “Meir Padua” or “Maharam Padua.”[11]

Families like the Katzenellenbogen lineage lack a written record of the years during and immediately following the Edict of Expulsion. Their changing family names are poor indicators of their origin and can further cloud the family histories. Recent advances in genetic genealogy have finally uncovered many of the mysteries associated with these years. For the Katzenellenbogen family, Y-DNA evidence has determined that Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s ancestry is Sephardic.[12] Genetic research is not the only means to illuminate the family’s past, however. A thorough examination of Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s published works arrives at the same conclusion.

Rabbi Katzenellenbogen published the majority of his writings during the 16^th century in Padua, Italy where he served as Chief Rabbi.[13] To understand the context under which he published, it is necessary to examine the relationship between Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews in Italy at the time. Padua and other Italian cities had established communities of Ashkenazi, Sephardic, and Italian Jews which operated largely independently of one another. The differences between the communities were visible to outsiders. Sephardic Jews from the Iberian Peninsula were more likely to be educated members of the middle class. Ashkenazi Jews, due to the centuries of suffering and humiliation they faced before arriving in Italy, typically occupied a lower social position.[14]

Above all, however, the divide was most apparent with regard to legal and religious matters. 16^th century Sephardim followed the Sephardic philosopher Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah while Ashkenazim adhered to the teachings of Ashkenazi authorities, most notably Jacob Ben Asher’s Sefer Ha-Turim. Jewish historian H.J. Zimmels asserts, “The Sephardi approved only those books which had been composed by the Sephardim, particularly the work of Maimonides; similarly the Rabbis of other countries adopted the works written by their own authors.”[15] A study of Jews in Mantua in 1595 concludes that a significantly higher percentage of Sephardic households owned a copy of the Mishneh Torah than their Ashkenazi counterparts, and that Ashkenazi households were far more likely to own a copy of Sefer Ha-Turim.[16]

The divide reached a peak during the 16^th century following the expulsions from Spain and Portugal. Both Sephardic and Ashkenazi rabbis would not dare follow the teachings of rabbis from the opposite heritage. In 1572, Rabbi Isaac Luria expressed a belief that a divine will had separated the Jewish traditions reportedly proclaiming, “both Ashkenazim and Sephardim should adhere to their own liturgies since any change would cause an interference in the upper world.”[17] Rabbis from both groups were acutely aware that any attempt to reference works outside their community’s philosophy would be swiftly criticized and rejected by his peers.

Despite the unprecedented divide fracturing European Judaism, Rabbi Katzenellenbogen contradicted Ashkenazi tradition and devoted considerable time and financial investment to publishing an edition of Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah with his own commentary. This decision would have received widespread criticism from his Ashkenazi community. Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s own teacher, Rabbi Jacob Pollack, strongly opposed Maimonides’ teachings, believing Mishneh Torah discouraged students from investigating the Talmud themselves.[18] Isolated within Prague’s Ashkenazi community, Rabbi Pollack would have urged Rabbi Katzenellenbogen to refrain from ever reading Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. Indeed, Rabbi Pollack’s other student, Shalom Shakna, became a vehement critic of Maimonides.[19] A public debate among Jews in Prague at the time saw Maimonides labeled a heretic who propagated “unbelief.”[20]

Yet Rabbi Katzenellenbogen still revered Maimonides’ philosophy and supported his teachings throughout his career. He published commentary on several other Sephardic texts including another Maimonides work, Yad as well as the Sephardic Rabbi Nachmanides’ Hasagot.[21]

Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s inclination toward Sephardic works was incredibly rare for an Ashkenazi rabbi at the time and reveals a Sephardic influence. In examining Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s publication of his edition of Mishneh Torah, UCLA Law professor Neil Weinstock Netanel notes that he must have stood alone as an anomaly by accepting both Sephardic and Ashkenazi works. “Although Katzenellenbogen was Ashkenazi, his rulings draw upon Sephardic as well as Ashkenazi authorities and he broke with Ashkenazi tradition in his Sephardic-influenced rulings in some cases. Katzenellenbogen’s edition of the Mishneh Torah, which his publisher, Alvise Bragadini, touted as the work of the great Maimonides ‘the Sephardi,’ exemplified the Maharam’s ‘broad tent’ approach and was likely seen as such by his contemporaries.”[22] Rabbi Katzenellenbogen did not shy away from referring to Maimonides as “the Sephardi” in his publication. He embraced the Sephardic heritage just as he did for Ashkenazim. In his Responsa, Rabbi Katzenellenbogen sides with Maimonides and the Sephardim to permit reading vernacular translations of the Bible on Yom Kippur. In the same work, when addressing the issue of polygamy, he refers to Sephardic legal sources to directly contradict an Ashkenazi decree from the 11th century.[23]

Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s edition of Mishneh Torah was groundbreaking in its willingness to combine Ashkenazi and Sephardic philosophy. It ultimately failed to undo the divide between the two heritages largely because a rival Christian publisher petitioned Papal authorities to ban it. The Vatican responded by ordering the confiscation of all copies of the Talmud throughout Italy to be burned in the Campo dei Fiori in Rome.[24] Though Mishneh Torah was among the books confiscated and destroyed, Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s edition inspired three Jewish scholars elsewhere in Europe to attempt uniting Judaism under a common code of law. However, each effort failed to negotiate a genuine embrace of both Ashkenazi and Sephardic philosophy.

Sephardic scholar Rabbi Joseph Caro, who settled in Turkey upon expulsion from Spain, published his Beth Yoseph in the decade following Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s publication of the Mishneh Torah. In it, Rabbi Caro utilizes the decisions of “three pillars of instruction”: Sephardic Rabbis Maimonides and Alfasi, and Franco-German Rabbi Asheri.[25] Sephardic communities in Turkey viewed such an ambitious undertaking with initial skepticism, but soon accepted Beth Yoseph as well as Rabbi Caro’s succeeding work, Shulhan Aruch. Ashkenazim, however, criticized both works for siding too closely with Sephardic traditions. Two of the three deciding “pillars” cited by Rabbi Caro were Sephardic and tended to agree with one another. Thus, they held a majority over the sole Ashkenazi voice, Rabbi Asheri.[26]

Ashkenazi leader Rabbi Solomon Luria denounces Rabbi Caro’s inclination towards Sephardic scholars in his own attempt at a unified code, Yam shel Shlomo. In its introduction Rabbi Luria directly attacks Rabbi Caro’s work. According to Jewish historian H.J. Zimmels, “[Rabbi Luria] accuses [Rabbi Caro] of not having deeply penetrated into the matter, of lack of understanding, and of false interpretations of Talmudical passages in his attempt to harmonize conflicting views. In other words, Caro’s decisions were not reliable, apart from the fact that he had neglected the Ashkenazi school.”[27]

Nevertheless, Rabbi Luria’s Yam shel Shlomo sided too closely with Ashkenazic tradition and appealed only to Ashkenazi communities. Both Rabbi Caro and Rabbi Luria failed to build upon Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s unified philosophy between Sephardim and Ashkenazim because they failed to adequately represent their counterparts. Judaism was sufficiently fractured at the time that its greatest philosophers could not match the precedent set by Rabbi Katzenellenbogen. His unique fusion of the two Jewries reflects his unusual convergence of Ashkenazic training with an outside Sephardic influence.

Eventually, three decades after Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s Mishneh Torah, Rabbi Moses Isserles succeeded in publishing a code that came to be accepted by both Ashkenazim and Sephardim. Isserles, a Polish Ashkenazi rabbi, was an admirer of Rabbi Katzenellenbogen and even endorsed his version of Mishneh Torah.[28] However, Rabbi Isserles did not embrace Sephardic ideology by referencing its philosophers in his own work as Rabbi Katzenellenbogen had. Rather he provided Ashkenazic-inclined commentary to Rabbi Joseph Caro’s largely Sephardic-influenced work, Shulhan Aruch. Effectively, this provided both Ashkenazi and Sephardic ideals in a single work, but simultaneously solidified their divisions.

Unlike Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s Mishneh Torah, which draws upon both Sephardic and Ashkenazi philosophies to weave together a unified code, Rabbi Isserles’ Glosses on Rabbi Caro’s Shulhan Aruch presents the two philosophies as distinct entities. The work soon became the authoritative consolidation of Jewish law, but rendered the divide within Judaism permanent. Sephardim would side with Rabbi Caro’s writing, while Ashkenazim would follow Rabbi Isserles’ commentaries.[29] Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s embrace of Sephardic philosophy would not be replicated by any Ashkenazi rabbi.

The only other example of a prominent rabbi whose works appealed to both Sephardic and Ashkenazi communities lived 150 years before Rabbi Katzenellenbogen: Rabbi Jacob ben Asher. Rabbi Jacob was born in Cologne, but was forced to emigrate with his father to France and finally to Toledo, Spain.[30] His father Rabbi Asher, also a distinguished rabbi, disapproved of Sephardic reliance on Maimonidean code and sought to teach students in Castille the Ashkenazi method of referring directly to the Talmud. Ultimately, the existing communities would not stray from Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, and Rabbi Asher died unable to reshape the traditions in Spain.[31]

Rabbi Jacob, however, immigrated at a much younger age than his father and more readily embraced the philosophies of their adopted home. After his father passed away, Rabbi Jacob published his own work, Abraa Turim. It drew on his father’s allegiance to Ashkenazic methods of study while still conforming to Rabbi Jacob’s Spanish surroundings. Talmud Professor Judah Galinsky describes how Rabbi Jacob accomplished such a rare mix of philosophies. “He shared his father’s broader goal of influencing the content of Spanish halakha and updating it with the teachings of the Ashkenaz and France, but parted ways with him in regard to the instrument needed to implement the change. He deferred to the Spanish legal culture on matters of form, and did away with references to the Talmudic sources of the law.”[32] Professor Galinsky goes on to conclude that “this unique mix was the result of the historical meeting of Ashkenaz and Sefarad.”[33] Rabbi Jacob could only achieve such a philosophical leap because his family had been forced from Ashkenazic society, and he matured in the land of Sephardim.

It follows that the next rabbi to make such a dramatic leap would derive from a Sephardic family that was forced from their homes and into an Ashkenazi community. Rabbi Katzenellenbogen, whose philosophy embraced both Ashkenazi and Sephardic influences, demonstrates this ancestral path. His works are archetypal of an individual exposed to both traditions, and his lineage must have derived from a Sephardic society.

From a modern perspective, it is not surprising that Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s work would reflect a Sephardic influence given that many other accounts have contended that his heritage is at least in-part Sephardic.[34] Oral accounts of several modern-day Sephardic families list Rabbi Katzenellenbogen as an ancestor, and most recently, genetic evidence has proven Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s Sephardic past.[35] Historical persecution has led much of Jewish history to be erased. Fears of safety have forced families and individuals to start anew in unfamiliar countries, expunging names and pedigrees. It is fortunate that in prominent cases such as Rabbi Katzenellenbogen’s, such a wealth of written and oral sources exists to illuminate the darkness imposed by years of persecution, which have destroyed families and pedigrees. The 1492 Spanish Edict of Expulsion muddied the heritages of countless Jewish families, but it did not permanently erase history.

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[1] Jeffrey Mark Paull, Neil Rosenstein, and Jeffrey Briskman: “The Y-DNA Genetic Signature and Ethnic Origin of the Katzenellenbogen Rabbinical Lineage.” Avotaynu Online, March 7, 2016.

[2] Zimmels, H. J. Ashkenazim and Sephardim: Their Relations, Differences, and Problems as Reflected in the Rabbinical Responsa. Hoboken: KTAV Publishing House, Inc., 1996.

[3] “Edict of the Expulsion of the Jews (1492),” Foundation for the Advancement of Sephardic Studies and Culture.

[4] Pérez, Joseph, and Lysa Hochroth. History of a Tragedy: The Expulsion of the Jews from Spain. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007.

[5] Netanel, Neil Weinstock, and David Nimmer. “Maharam of Padua versus Giustiniani.” From Maimonides to Microsoft, 2016, 71-114. 

[6] Ray, Jonathan. “New Approaches to the Jewish Diaspora: The Sephardim as a Sub-Ethnic Group.” Jewish Social Studies, New Series, 15, no. 1 (2008): 10-31.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ray, Jonathan S. After Expulsion 1492 and the Making of Sephardic Jewry. New York: NYU Press, 2013.

[9] Max Markreich. “Notes on Transformation of Place Names by European Jews.” Jewish Social Studies 23, no. 4 (1961): 265-84.

[10] Rosenstein, Neil. The Unbroken Chain: Biographical Sketches and Genealogies of Illustrious Jewish Families from the 15th-21st Centuries, MaHaRaM of Padua and MaHaRaL of Prague. Elizabeth, NJ: Computer Center for Jewish Genealogy, 1990.

[11] Markreich, “Notes on Transformation,” 274.

[12] Paull et al., “The Y-DNA Genetic Signature of the Katzenellenbogen Lineage.”

[13] Rosenstein, “The Unbroken Chain,” 12.

[14] Zimmels, “Ashkenazim and Sephardim,” 44-45.

[15] Ibid, 48.

[16] Baruchson-Arbib, Shifra, Gabriel Roth, and Jean-Pierre Rothschild. La Culture Livresque Des Juifs DItalie à La Fin De La Renaissance. Paris: Centre National De La Recherche Scientifique, 2001.

[17] Zimmels, “Ashkenazim and Sephardim,” 56.

[18] Netanel, “Maharam of Padua versus Giustiniani,” 5.

[19] Ibid.

[20] Reiner, Elchanan. “The Attitude of Ashkenazi Society to the New Science in the Sixteenth Century.” Science in Context 10, no. 04 (1997): 589. doi:10.1017/s0269889700002829.

[21] Netanel, “Maharam of Padua versus Giustiniani,” 10, 12.

[22] Ibid, 7.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid.

[25] Zimmels, “Ashkenazim and Sephardim,” 49.

[26] Ibid, 52-53.

[27] Ibid, 53-54.

[28] Netanel, “Maharam of Padua versus Giustiniani,” 11-13.

[29] Zimmels, “Ashkenazim and Sephardim,” 56-57.

[30] Galinsky, Judah D. “Ashkenazim in Sefarad: The Rosh and the Tur on the Codification of Jewish Law.” The Jewish Law Annual 16 (2006): 4. doi:10.4324/9780203965092.

[31] Ibid, 14.

[32] Ibid, 22.

[33] Ibid, 23.

[34] Paull et al., “The Y-DNA Genetic Signature of the Katzenellenbogen Lineage.”

[35] Ibid.