Among the countless treasures that have emerged from the world of Jewish creativity, few genres are as whimsical, erudite, and mischievously reverent as Purim Torah – that peculiar and delightful form of rabbinic parody composed in the lofty cadences of Gemara, Rishonim, and teshuvot, yet leading the reader down a path of twisted logic, sharp wit, and learned nonsense. While it takes the form of holy text, its aim is satire – and only those steeped in the style and structure of Talmudic literature can fully appreciate its brilliance. This was Torah with a wink; lomdus laced with laughter.
This past week, I had the pleasure of acquiring a truly exceptional piece from this rich literary tradition – an Italian manuscript from 1715 that brings together, between two modest covers, some of the most beloved early Purim Torah classics in a beautifully unified volume. Penned by the hand of Eliezer Ḥayyim bar Mordechai Mella of Reggio – whose name appears in other known manuscripts from the same era – this codex is a testament to the playful spirit that accompanied the otherwise rigorous life of the talmid chacham in pre-modern Europe.
The manuscript opens with a five-chapter version of Massechet “Shikkorim,” a Purim re-imagining of the Talmud replete with mock-legal discussions and faux-sugyot, likely inspired by the anonymous Massechet Purim composed in the 17th century and elaborated upon by scribes across the 18th. Next comes Sefer Chavakbuk ha-Navi, a delightfully absurd pseudo-prophetic work attributed (tongue firmly in cheek) to the fictional “Prophet Chavakbuk” – a clear spoof on biblical prophetic style, modeled by none other than the famed Provençal sage Ralbag (Rabbi Levi ben Gershon).
On page 40 appears a short poetic piece, Ki-Kelot Yeini, a wine-infused hymn traditionally ascribed, perhaps spuriously, to Rabbi Solomon Ibn Gabirol, the great medieval philosopher and poet. The manuscript then concludes with a tour de force: a seven-chapter composite of Megillat Setarim and Massechet Purim, ingeniously presented as a single tractate. The satirical imagination, dense wordplay, and literary layering in these texts – originally composed by Kalonymos ben Kalonymos and Ralbag in 14th-century Provence – delight the reader with every invented citation and absurd hava amina.
The tradition of Purim parody is not new. As early as the 12th century, Menaḥem ben Aharon composed Leil Shikkorim, a satirical rejoinder to the Passover piyyut “Leil Shimurim.” But it was in Provence, in the early 1300s, that the genre reached new literary heights. The Provençal masterpieces – Massechet Purim, Megillat Setarim, and Sefer Chavakbuk – were often copied together and saw print as early as 1513 in Pesaro. They remained popular through the centuries, delighting generations of scholars who could appreciate a good sevarah turned upside-down.
This newly acquired volume is not only a humorous relic – it’s a window into the inner world of Jewish scholarship, where joy and wit were never far from the shtender. As collectors and lovers of Judaica know well, manuscripts such as this remind us that Jewish learning has never been only about solemnity. Even the most serious among our sages found time, at least once a year, to laugh – with the language of Torah itself.
