Though viewed today as an outmoded evil, slavery was part of medieval Jewish life in Arab lands. Somewhat surprisingly, slaves owned by Jews were considered semi-Jewish; having entered the Jewish people through this “back door,” how did they complete the process?
In late 1093, Ali son of Yefet appeared before the rabbinical court in Fustat, Islamic Egypt’s capital. As a Jewish merchant from Ashkelon, Ali often traveled to Egypt on business, but this time he’d come to clarify the personal status of his daughter Milah, who’d apparently reached marriageable age. Ali told the judges that he’d purchased a Nubian slave woman, and her infant daughter had been part of the package. This daughter subsequently died, whereupon Ali had freed his maidservant and married her in accordance with Jewish law. The couple then had a daughter of their own – the young woman whose Jewishness was now in question, even though the entire affair had been overseen by the head of the yeshiva of the land of Israel.
The rabbinic tribunal in Egypt wanted more proof:
Our intention is purely to sanctify God’s name […] and [uphold] the laws of Israel [and to verify] that the marriage and ketuba [marriage contract] accorded with the traditions of [previous generations] of our people. (Mordechai Akiva Friedman, Jewish Polygyny in the Middle Ages: New Documents from the Cairo Geniza [1986], p. 318 [Hebrew])
Evidently, the court was concerned that Ali hadn’t legally freed his slave woman before marrying and/or impregnating her, making Milah not legally Jewish.
Ali produced two witnesses from Ashkelon who asserted that the ketuba was valid and that Milah had been born only after her parents’ marriage. The court probed them further:
Do you know how much time elapsed between the marriage [and the birth], so that both conception and birth were [after Milah’s mother had become fully Jewish]? (ibid.)
Although the witnesses couldn’t recall exact dates, the tribunal was satisfied and pronounced Milah Jewish. The resulting Judeo-Arabic account of the proceedings was given to Ali and has been preserved almost in its entirety in the Cairo Geniza.
This case typifies generations of sensitive issues pertaining to non-Jewish slaves – particularly female – in medieval Islamic society’s Jewish communities. As these women lived and worked under their owner’s roof, master and servant sometimes became intimate. Yet Jewish law forbids such relationships, and any offspring share the mother’s slave status.
Source of a social problem? An Egyptian slave market | Engraving from Egipto, 1882
Street in Fustat | Illustration by Carl Werner, from Egipto by Jorge Eber, 1882
Liminal Cases
For middle- and upper-class families living under Islamic rule, owning non-Jewish slaves was standard practice both in medieval times and beyond. Purchased at the local slave market, these servants were as much their masters’ property as his furniture. They received no wages, could be sold or gifted at will, and were automatically bequeathed to their owner’s heirs. Many Jewish responsa written by rabbinic figures in Iraq and elsewhere reflect this reality, as do numerous Cairo Geniza fragments.
In Jewish law, gentile servants owned by Jews are known as “Canaanite slaves.” Both males and females must immerse in a mikveh, and the men must be circumcised; then they have the same ritual obligations as Jewish women. Despite this partial conversion to Judaism, they aren’t full-fledged Jews. As the Talmud puts it:
[The Caananite slave] has lost the status of a heathen, but has not yet attained that of a Jew. (Sanhedrin 58b, trans. Soncino)
If and when their Jewish master releases them, these slaves automatically become Jews. Their status throughout their servitude is thus liminal, somewhere between Jew and non-Jew. And like anyone living on a border, the lack of clarity in their lives can be problematic.
Some of the aforementioned responsa deal with everyday issues, others with existential ones. Must Canaanite slaves consciously accept the obligations of Jewish law when they immerse? If not, must they observe commandments such as the Sabbath and dietary laws? Does their contact with unsealed wine render it nonkosher, as happens when any other non-Jew touches it? What if they refuse to keep the commandments or to immerse?
Conversely, if slaves do accept Judaism (partially at least), may they be sold to a non-Jew? If so, do they revert to their original, non-Jewish status, or is there no way back?
These and similar inquiries were directed to the Geonim, the heads of the Iraqi Jewish community, in the first centuries of Islamic rule. They exemplify the dilemmas arising in many Jewish households in the early medieval Middle East.
Pillars of the Community
Freed slaves received a get shihrur – a bill of manumission – declaring that their former owners had no further authority over them and that they could rename themselves, marry Jews, and give their children a Jewish education. Rabbinic responsa allude to such cases, and the Cairo Geniza contains many of these writs, issued to both male and female slaves. For instance:
On the third day of the week, the fifteenth day of the month of Kislev, […] in Fustat, Egypt, which sits upon the Nile, I, Sitt al-Hasab daughter of Sela the Levite, great prince of the Levites, may his soul rest in paradise […], have requested of my own volition – under no duress, nor by error or mistake, but wholeheartedly – and have released you, Salaf, who have long been my maidservant. And now that I have freed you, behold, you are a free woman, your own person, and have permission to enter into the congregation of Israel, change your own name within Israel, and do as you will, like other free persons. And neither I, Hasab, nor my descendants after me, nor any who claim to represent me, have any lien upon you or any children you may raise within Israel. This shall be a bill of manumission for you from me, a bill of liberty and a record of freedom according to the law of Moses and Israel. (CUL T-S 10J28.16)
Other Geniza documents testify to unions between freed slaves and Jews from birth. Some of the liberated integrated into the Jewish community, engaged in trade, and gave charity; others received it, like their fellow Jewish paupers.
Marked by the Past
Nonetheless, life after slavery wasn’t always idyllic. According to Jewish law, former slaves are like any other converts, but the Talmud always refers to them as “the liberated.” This term appears in everyday Geniza material too, even years after a slave’s release. The designation accompanied his name in rabbinical court paperwork (including marriage contracts and bills of divorce) and business contracts alike. Even his children were known as “son of x, who was freed.”
Such terminology perpetuated one’s non-Jewish, slave origins (or his parents’). Whereas other converts were embraced as “sons of Abraham,” the ex-slave and his descendants were marked as having joined the Jewish people by an alternative, possibly suspect route – a back door. They hadn’t chosen to leave their previous religion behind in favor of Judaism; their unfortunate circumstances had brought them within the fold.
The name of their former masters also clung to them. They’d be known as “my uncle’s freedman,” “Evyatar Gaon’s former servant,” and so forth. One 10th-century ketuba identified the bride as “the freedwoman of Rabbi Moshe son of Paltiel” (CUL T-S 16.105).
This practice stood in stark contradiction to the text of the bill of manumission, in which the master explicitly renounced all connection with the slave. In Muslim society, by contrast, the master remained obliged to take care of his former bondsman and was recognized by law among the ex-servant’s heirs.
In some cases, the slave’s association with his ex-master lingered in the form of a lawsuit filed by the latter against the former. On the other hand, sometimes an owner made a bequest to his freed servant, either to ensure his welfare or to help him marry another Jew. Whereas converts were seen as reborn, disconnected from their past, freed slaves remained in a twilight zone, even though they were officially Jews.
Let Heaven Judge
This murky identity became even more sensitive when it came to intimate relations between Jewish men and their non-Jewish maidservants past or present. Despite the explicit ban on such unions in Jewish law, they were clearly commonplace. Whether a onetime affair or part of an ongoing relationship, these liaisons had consequences that demanded a communal response.
The Geonim addressed the matter, as did Maimonides and his son Abraham. One rabbi consulted Maimonides regarding a man who’d impregnated a serving woman but spread rumors that her master was the father. Maimonides recommended staying out of it, as there was no way of knowing what had really happened:
The law in this matter cannot be written down, and everyone is lawless, both he who spread the rumors and his accomplices […]. In all this, silence is the most appropriate response, along with distancing oneself from such ugly behavior […]. Judgment in all this should be left to Heaven. (Maimonides, Responsa, Blau edition [1957], p. 630 [Hebrew])
In another responsum, Maimonides was asked about a man suspected of illicit relations with his maid:
What would our master do about a young man who bought a good-looking serving woman, and she dwells in the same courtyard as he, though the space is large and he lives there with his father’s wife and her three small daughters? […] The whole town is talking about him, and even now she remains in his house. (ibid., p. 373)
Maimonides urged the rabbinic court to persuade this master to free his maidservant and marry her in accordance with Jewish law. Yet his conclusion contradicted the Mishna:
If a man is suspected of [intercourse] with a slave who was later emancipated, or with a heathen who subsequently became a proselyte, lo, he must not marry her. If, however, he did marry her, they need not be parted. (Yevamot 2:8, trans. Soncino)
Maimonides knew the Mishna, of course, but he factored in the limitations of communal interference in personal affairs:
Even though this resembles sin […], as we have previously ruled several times in similar cases, he should free her and marry her […]. As we’ve stated, “Better that he partake of the sauce than of the [forbidden] fat itself.” […] And may God, exalted be He, rectify our failings. (Maimonides, Responsa, pp. 374–75)
Given the closeness between slaves of both sexes and their Jewish owners, the suspicions it aroused, and the fact that some masters did have sexual relations and even long-term affairs with their maidservants, the Jewish community was naturally ambivalent about former slaves – particularly women – and their children. Even where the entire manumission process was rabbinically supervised, the stigma persisted. The daughters of freed maidservants were subject to the greatest scrutiny, as Jewish identity is matrilineal. Such circumstances were typical throughout the Middle Ages, when many Jewish families depended on gentile servants, building long-term relationships with them.
No Papers
Two inquiries sent to Rabbi Sherira Gaon (906–1006) reflect this sense of questionable identity and suspicion regarding freed slaves. The first involves a Jewish householder who made a match between two of his slaves, treated them as Jews, and gave their son a Jewish education. He neglected, however, to free them:
Reuven had a slave and a handmaid who had a son. Reuven took the child and placed him in school, where he learned Torah and Prophets. Those same servants [continued] to serve their master, who placed his financial affairs in the slave’s hands. [A quorum of] ten men of Israel arose and recited the seven blessings [of betrothal for the slave couple], and [Reuven] didn’t reproach them. Afterward they had [more] children, but the master never told them, “Behold, you are free,” or wrote them any bill of manumission.
Their owner died, and the rabbinical court reached a compromise with the slave – lest the dead man’s money be lost – and wrote him a bill of manumission. (OX Bodl. MS Heb. C18/38a)
The deceased master’s underage son was to inherit his father’s property, including the slave couple and their children. Therefore, Rabbi Sherira Gaon was asked whether the rabbinical court’s ruling was valid.
The Gaon responded by nullifying the entire course of action thus far:
His master did not act well by teaching him Torah […]. The wedding blessings recited for them by ten Jewish men had no effect on them, and [in reciting them] those men acted improperly and took God’s name in vain […]. The bill of freedom written by the rabbinical court isn’t valid in any way. (ibid., 38a–b)
This incident indicates that sometimes slaves were treated as Jews even without being officially freed. Rabbi Sherira objected to such conduct and therefore invalidated all its consequences.
Son or Slave?
The second responsum deals with a father who tried to conceal the parentage of a son born to him by a slave woman and to have him recognized as a Jew. The father was in any case obliged to circumcise the child as a slave born into a Jewish household. But the community, hearing rumors that the maidservant was pregnant, refused to accept her offspring as a Jew:
Reuven took a wife and bought her an Egyptian handmaiden, and he got her pregnant. […] She bore a son, and he brought [the boy] to the synagogue to be circumcised. Those congregated there asked him, “Tell us whose son he is, and then we’ll circumcise him.” He admitted to a few of them that it was his [own] son and that [the slave woman] had become pregnant by him, and then they circumcised him. Afterward he arose and freed the maidservant, and she immersed and converted. (B. M. Lewin, Thesaurus of the Gaonic Responsa and Commentaries [1928–43], Yevamot, p. 41 [Hebrew])
The text doesn’t specify whether Reuven actually married this maidservant, but he probably at least planned to, as happened in other cases. In any case, Reuven subsequently died, leaving his lawful wife childless, and the widow was given in levirate marriage to his brother. That brother thus inherited Reuven’s property, including his illegitimate nephew, whom he intended to sell as a slave. Reuven’s other brothers opposed the levirate marriage on the grounds that he had not died without issue – as the ex-slave woman’s child was his son and heir. They claimed the new husband had simply schemed to get his hands on Reuven’s estate.
Rabbi Sherira Gaon ruled that according to the letter of the law, the child born before his mother’s release was a “Canaanite slave” and consequently couldn’t eliminate the widow’s obligation to enter into a levirate marriage with her brother-in-law. However, by freeing the child’s mother, Reuven had demonstrated that the boy was his son, thereby implying that in his eyes, the child wasn’t a slave. Therefore, he couldn’t be sold. The sage added:
Now that [the brother] has wed the widow in levirate marriage, he has a right to her, and she cannot be taken from him. Although this is the law, [the child] is not to be sold and should be considered as having been freed together with his mother. (ibid., p. 42)
Neither Here Nor There
Generally speaking, the dividing line between Jews and gentiles is clear. Sometimes, however, social circumstances create a middle ground where non-Jews are gradually absorbed into Jewish society. Application of the “Canaanite slave” as a halakhic category is a prime example. Jewish-owned slaves gave rise to a plethora of complicated and controversial outcomes, often creating conflict between different social groups, and rabbis and other community leaders had to grapple with the resulting dilemmas.
Rabbi Sherira Gaon’s two responsa reflect two opposite reactions to situations in which slaves have already become part of the Jewish social fabric. In the case where the slave owner, his friends and neighbors, and the rabbinical court all related to the slave family as full-fledged, free Jews, and the court liberated these slaves without reference to the heir’s wishes, Rabbi Sherira overturned the ruling. The slaves, as far as he was concerned, were still slaves.
However, when the slave child was about to be sold by his uncle, social circumstances outweighed halakhic convention in Rabbi Sherira’s view. Though born before his mother was freed, the child was to be considered a Jew and not sold.
Even as Jews today fiercely debate how to define Jewish identity and descent, the issues are ancient: how to relate to and absorb converts, how to regard Jews who’ve converted to other religions, the status of said Jews’ children, and what to do about those who live with Jews all their lives but have never converted. Knowing how such questions were dealt with over the centuries can deepen our current discussions, which are in fact just continuing a very old conversation.
Further reading:
Miriam Frenkel, “Slavery in Medieval Jewish Society under Islam: A Gendered Perspective,” in Matthias Morgenstern, Christian Boudignon, and Christiane Tietz, eds., Männlich and weiblich schuf Er sie: Studien zur Genderkonstruktion und zur Eherecht in der Mittelmeerreligionen (Male and Female He Created Them: Studies in Gender Construction and Marital Law in Mediterranean Religions) (2011), pp. 249–59; Craig Perry, “Power, Mastery, and Competition: Jewish Slave Owners in Medieval Egypt,” in Israel in Egypt: The Land of Egypt as Concept and Reality for Jews in Antiquity and the Early Medieval Period (Leiden: Brill, 2020), pp. 461–88.
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