judaism and medicine

Spontaneous generation is usually stated to have been laid to rest by Louis Pasteur with his swan-necked flask experiments. However, a century and a half earlier an Italian physician-Rabbi, Isaac Lampronti, was so convinced of the falsity of spontaneous generation that he was willing to overturn Jewish legal precedent.

The city of Padua (or Padova), just twenty-five miles southwest of Venice, has a rich and expansive Jewish history, though it is not typically on the itinerary of the Jewish traveler to Italy. One might perhaps recognize the city name as the penultimate stop on the train from Florence to Venice. The likes of Rabbi Yehuda Minz (Mahari Minz-15 th century), Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen (Maharam Padua-16 th century), and Rabbi Moshe Ḥayyim Luzzatto (Ramḥal-18 th century) all lived and taught there, as did many other great personalities in Jewish history. One of the centerpieces of the city is the University of Padua, one of the oldest universities in the world, which is celebrating its 800 th anniversary this year. To this day, it remains one of the premier universities in Europe. The Jewish history of this city is very much intertwined with the university. One remarkable connection between the two is geographical. As divine providence would have it, the Ghetto of Padua was established literally meters away from the university campus. A casual stroll from Palazza Bo, the iconic architectural center of the University of Padua, to the Ashkenazi Synagogue in the Ghetto, now home to the Jewish Museum in Padua, takes less than five minutes. A new exhibit at the Jewish Museum of Padua, in collaboration with the University of Padua, explores the unique relationship between the university and the Jewish community in the pre-modern era, with particular focus on the medical training of Jewish students. The exhibit commemorates a key role the university played in Jewish medical history, beginning in the fifteenth century, as the first university to officially allow Jews to gain formal training in the field of medicine. Since the formation of the earliest universities,[1] Jews were officially barred by papal decree from attending, as the universities were by and large under the auspices of the Catholic Church. In the pages of this

elvuel ldical Sa es 1114 d 3e MEDICA JUDAICA describes, among other medical matters, the outbreak of plague in Rome in 1656. He alludes to one of his relatives who practiced medicine without a diploma (that is not to say without a licence), but stresses Zahalon's personal achievement. Again, according to the notice, Zahalon left Rome in 1680 for Ferrara, where he served as rabbi and physician. The notice suggests two reasons for this move: the dissensions in the Jewish community of Rome and the proximity of the Venetian printing press. In connection to the lat ter, the introduction of his first work, Margalioth Tovoth, includes a list of some works by Zahalon-that were still in manuscript form. It is possible that he intended to print them all, as can be understood from the cover-page of O1sar HaHayim. This page indicates that this volume is the third part of a larger work: Otsar HaHokhma (The Treasure of Wisdom). Although Zahalon lived for almost 13 years in Ferrara before his death in 1693, none of his other works was ever printed. It was perhaps a matter of money, as has been conjectured by historians to ex

The Ethical Will of Amatus Lusitanus What is usually called "the oath of Amatus Lusitanus," should rather be entitled, in my opinion, A great physician at the end of his career compares his past practice to the standards of the Hippocratic Oath". Unlike the customary medical oath taken by newly qualified doctors where they swear to uphold the prescribed values in the future, this text is more

Which names survive the test of time? Who merits inclusion in the eternal archives of history and who is relegated to its trash bin? Today, virtually all of us leave a footprint of varying size on the Internet, such that those in the future will at least know of our existence. Such was not the case in the past. If you were not deemed worthy of inclusion in history books, and family records did not survive, it is quite possible that we today would never know of your existence. What is the fate of those already included in the history books of centuries gone by? If they are fortunate enough to be included in a volume uploaded to the Internet by Google Books or the like, their legacy is safe. However, if their hardcopy book entry literally or figuratively falls between the cracks, and somehow evades scanning and uploading, they too may vanish from our collective memories. In this essay, I extend my hand to one who has fallen between the proverbial cracks and pull him from obscurity into the light, where, as we shall see, he clearly belongs. Dr. Menachem Mendel Yehudah Leib Sergei is not a familiar name to our generation. To wit, he entirely escapes mention in Koren's comprehensive biographical index of Jewish physicians. 1 Dr. David Margalit does include him in an essay on the history of Jewish physicians who were also Torah scholars, but devotes precisely one sentence. 2 A biographical entry during his lifetime, however, indicates the extent to which he was respected and revered: