5 Timeless Lessons from Professor Haim (Heinrich) Guggenheimer and his Jerusalem Talmud Translation
Two years ago, the world lost a great light when Professor Haim (Heinrich) Guggenheimer, translator of the Jerusalem Talmud, passed away. Although I only had the pleasure of knowing him during the final years of his life, through email correspondence and a few meetings, I cannot help but feel a profound regret for not seizing more opportunities to engage with him and learn from his vast wisdom. Despite the immense sadness of his passing, I feel privileged to have contributed a small ray of light by being a partner in the uploading of Guggenheimer's translation of the Jerusalem Talmud (Yerushalmi) on the Sefaria website. As a small cog in the larger machine, working alongside the dedicated staff members, I am incredibly proud of my involvement in this project, particularly whenever I study the Yerushalmi on the site.
In commemoration of Guggenheimer's second Yahrzeit, I would like to share five valuable lessons that I have gleaned from him and his translation of the Yerushalmi.
While his work may appear technical in nature, I think that these lessons have broader implications that can help guide us in our own pursuits of Torah learning and personal growth. May it be for the elevation of his soul, as I am sure he would be pleased to know that people are reading and studying more Yerushalmi, thanks to his translation and thanks to Sefaria!
1. Don’t emend the text!
Professor Guggenheimer had a unique approach when it came to emending the text of the Yerushalmi, which is considered to be corrupt in many places. Unlike commentators and scholars who often added many glosses, he believed in reading the text as is, without too much interference. Even if the text was challenging, he thought it should be read in its original form. This approach was in stark contrast to the commentators and scholars who frequently made changes to the text, sometimes even contradicting it, as to what they saw fit. Instead of emending the text, he believed that sometimes a sentence could be read as a rhetorical question or ironic statement, without the need for any changes. Overall, he preferred to "listen" to the text and consider different interpretations rather than changing the text to fit his understanding.
2. Between translation and commentary
Secondly, I admire how Professor Guggenheimer was able to maintain a delicate balance between translation and interpretation. Unlike other translators (such as Neusner), who often cluttered their translations with explanations and brackets, Professor Guggenheimer's translations were easy to follow on a first reading.
As Torah scholars, we constantly strive to apply its teachings to our daily lives, drawing parallels between its concepts and various aspects of our modern world, such as politics, media, and popular culture. We are eager to constantly "translate" the ancient text to our life. Guggenheimer recognized the delicate balance required to make the text accessible to contemporary English speakers, while maintaining its fidelity to the original. Our role as "curators" of the text is more important than our responsibility as "creators," ensuring that we remain a link in the chain of generations.
3. Be open to a diversity
Professor Guggenheimer's fluency in at least eight languages, not to mention ancient languages which are often overlooked by scholars of rabbinic literature (such as Akkadian and Arabic), allowed him to uncover hidden meanings of difficult words that others had missed. His knowledge, coupled with the expertise of his wife who was a lecturer of classical studies, proved invaluable in identifying unique positions that had been previously overlooked. Even in cases where parallel sources contradicted the text, Guggenheimer's keen insight led him to consider alternative interpretations that others had not considered.
The attempt to unify rabbinic literature into a singular piece risks losing its versatility, as each text — from the Babylonian Talmud to the Agada midrashim — holds a unique place within the canon and its own unique positions and opinions. As scholars and learners, we must remain open to the possibility that the text may differ from what we know, and be willing to embrace the nuanced diversity that makes rabbinic literature such a rich and complex field.
4. Be rational
I truly appreciate how Professor Guggenheimer did not blindly accept the words of scholars but instead took a rational approach (he introduced me to the heretic idea that even Lieberman can be wrong!). He read the words of scholars but did not always accept them and often preferred the classical commentators, who were sometimes ignored by other scholars. This approach avoids giving exclusivity to one side and judges each case on its own merit. The fact that the field is called "Wissenschaft des Judentums = The Science of Judaism" does not necessarily mean that the prevailing views are always correct. Sometimes, earlier interpretations are more accurate.
5. This is only the beginning, אין הדבר תלוי אלא בי
Lastly, he encouraged readers to make an effort and examine the text themselves (that's why in contrast to other translations, in his edition he also brought the original Hebrew/Aramaic which he fully vocalized!). His translations were meant to be a springboard for further research, rather than the final word on a topic (as he said to me, "otherwise it would have been impossible to finish the entire Yerushalmi in twenty years.” In case you didn't know, he finished translating the Yerushalmi when he was 90!).
Guggenheimer recognized that, like any good teacher, his role was to act as a mediator between the Torah and the individual. This requires an understanding that the individual's own thoughts and experiences serve as a horizon point, allowing for the merging of abstract "text" and the creative "interpretation.” This is a valuable lesson that I strive to incorporate into my own studies.
Conclusion
To me, it appears that a common thread among all the characteristics I discussed is the value of approaching the text with humility. Professor Guggenheimer consistently prioritized the text above all else, avoiding the temptation to assert his own intelligence by proclaiming, "I know what should be written, and I'll emend the text." Instead, he approached the text with reverence, saying things like "Perhaps I'm wrong, and we need to understand this section differently," "Perhaps this doesn't align with Babylonian traditions," or "Perhaps this is actually a Greek word." All of these efforts were made with the goal of preserving the integrity of the text, which is ultimately more important than the desires or opinions of the scholar or learner.
I see a parallel between this and the idea (or at least one of the ideas) behind Sefaria. In both cases, we understand that what unites us is the text. People tend to focus on differences rather than finding common ground, questioning what truly connects us. However, the text itself serves as a common foundation that unites us all, demanding from us qualities such as humility, appreciation, and patience. As Torah scholars, we ought to acknowledge the significance and subtleties of the text and dedicate ample time to delve deeply into it, enabling us to feel a sense of belonging within its pages.
May his memory be a blessing.