The Hagiz family belongs to that singular category of Sephardic rabbinical lineages whose very wandering becomes a vocation: born of Iberian exile prolonged by Maghrebi wandering, they transform uprootedness into a learned mission. Inscribed within the orbit of the "Portuguese Nation" and the reconstituted Sephardic communities of the Mediterranean, the trajectory of the Hagiz follows the very geography of the modern diaspora — from Fès to Livourne, from Jérusalem to Amsterdam, from Altona to Safed.
The sociogram of this family intersects with the great phenomena of Jewish history in the Baroque age: the reconstitution of converso communities after their return to Judaism, of which Amsterdam was the central theater. Miriam Bodian has shown how the Jews of the "Portuguese Nation" of Amsterdam rebuilt a community from the conversos of the early modern period [Bodian, 1997]. It is within this milieu — where the Jewish condition in Amsterdam at the time of Spinoza was marked by a tension between newfound freedom and communal discipline [Méchoulan, 1991] — that the most celebrated representative of the lineage, Moshe Hagiz, waged his battles.
The present work distinguishes with rigor what the archive establishes from what Memory transmits. Where notarial acts, epitaphs, and bibliographic catalogues allow us to fix dates and connections, we speak as historians; where rabbinical tradition conveys edifying narratives, we note it as such. This dual economy of proof is the condition of an honest genealogy.
The documented cradle of the lineage is located in Fès, a major center of Sephardic talmudic scholarship in the Maghreb following the expulsion of 1492. The oldest solidly attested member is Samuel ben Jacob ben Samuel Hagiz, rabbi of Fès. Samuel ben Jacob ben Samuel Hagiz, of Fès, was the father of Jacob Hagiz and the grandfather of Moïse Hagiz; according to an epitaph, he died in 1634. The use of the epitaph as a source — a tombstone read and transcribed — illustrates how funerary epigraphy often supplements civil registration in Sephardic genealogy.
The family explicitly situates itself within the Iberian matrix. Reference entries connect the Hagiz to a Spanish family established in Fès, which places the lineage in the wake of the exiles of Sefarad resettled in Morocco. This "Spanish" ancestry is no mere ornament: it shapes the domestic language, the liturgy observed, and the matrimonial networks, which remained strictly Sephardic across generations and displacements.
The rabbinic culture inherited by the Hagiz household is that of a world in which authority rests on mastery of the transmitted canon. Moshe Halbertal has analyzed the manner in which the formation of a canon, its meaning, and the authority that flows from it structure the culture of the People of the Book [Halbertal, 1997]. The Hagiz embody this culture of the text: editors, glossators, commentators, they make the transmission of the written word the very heart of their identity. The halakhic tradition they serve extends the long labor of elaborating authorities, from the tannaitic baraitot to the medieval decisors, whose mechanisms of authority and transmission in Babylonian Talmud Yaakov Elman has studied [Elman, 1994].
Fès, at this period, was no dead end but a node in a network linking the Maghreb to Italy and to the Holy Land. It is through this network that the next generation would leave Morocco.
Jacob Hagiz is the pivotal figure of the lineage, the one who carried the family hearth from the Maghreb to the Holy Land. Jacob Hagiz (1620–1674) was a Jewish Talmudist born into a Sephardic family in Fès, Morocco; his master was David Karigal, who later became his father-in-law. Reference sources present him as the son of Samuel Hagiz, rabbi of Fès, and the son-in-law of Moïse Galante [Encyclopedia.com] — an apparent discrepancy regarding the identity of his father-in-law, which scholarly notices resolve through the successive and complex alliances of Sephardic learned families.
His first stop was Italy, a land of Hebrew printing. Around 1646, Hagiz traveled to Italy to publish his books, and remained there until after 1656, supporting himself through teaching. Samuel di Pam, rabbi of Livourne, called himself his disciple. This Italian sojourn, and Livourne's in particular, proved decisive: it inserted the Hagiz family into the patronage networks of the great Sephardic merchants, the Vega brothers of Livourne, who would go on to finance his career.
The founding act took place in Jerusalem. Around 1657, Hagiz left Livourne for Jerusalem, where the Vega brothers of Livourne had established a beit midrash for him, and where he became a member of the rabbinical college. This institution — the yeshivah Beth Yaakov — was a true seminary. He directed a yeshivah founded and sustained by the Vega brothers of Livourne, in which secular subjects and Spanish were also taught. The teaching of Spanish and secular disciplines reflects the open Sephardic spirit of the institution, standing in contrast to the more inward-looking models that Jacob Elbaum described for Poland and the Ashkenazic lands, between openness and closure in spiritual creation [Elbaum, 1990].
Jacob Hagiz was a prolific legal decisor and bibliographer. His major work, the Halakhot Ketanot (a collection of responsa), and his Etz ha-Hayyim — an index and commentary on the Mishna — carried lasting authority. He died in 1674, with tradition placing his death in Constantinople during a journey. He left behind a flourishing yeshivah and a son still in childhood, Moshe, whose destiny would carry the Hagiz name to its greatest heights.
To understand Moshe Hagiz's struggle, one must restore the shockwave that shook the Jewish world at the precise moment he was growing up in Jerusalem: the messianic prophecy of Shabbetaï Tsevi, his apostasy in 1666, and the clandestine Sabbatianism that survived him. His father's yeshivah was, it is said, one of the centers where messianic enthusiasm first circulated before the authorities reacted.
Sabbatianism posed a problem that went beyond theology: it threatened the very architecture of rabbinic authority. Élisheva Carlebach, in the definitive study on Hagiz, situates his career precisely at this point of rupture: during Hagiz's lifetime, there was a general decline of rabbinic authority, a decline to which his campaigns claimed to respond. Crypto-Sabbatianism was all the more formidable for concealing itself beneath orthodoxy: one had to unmask the hidden heretic.
This struggle was waged on the terrain of halakhah and kabbalah, whose entanglement lies at the heart of Jewish modernity. Jacob Katz devoted his research to the relationship between halakhah and kabbalah in the history of the religion of Israel [Katz, 1984]. Sabbatianism exploited precisely the speculative margins of Lurianic kabbalah to subvert the norm. Yet halakhic authority rested on a regulated flexibility, of which Katz provided the classical model by studying institutions such as that of the shabbes goy — a flexibility that presupposed a recognized magisterium, the very one that clandestine heresy sought to undermine [Katz, 1989].
It is within this horizon — the defense of a canon, the restoration of a contested authority, the pursuit of an underground dissidence — that the public life of Moshe Hagiz unfolds.
Moshe Hagiz is the eponymous hero of the Great Book. Born in Jerusalem in 1671, son of Jacob, he was a Sephardic rabbi, Talmudist, kabbalist, and polemicist born in Jerusalem, whose career was centered on the eradication of Sabbatean heresy in Jewish communities of the Ottoman Empire and Europe [Grokipedia].
His European career began with a practical mission that transformed into a crusade. He first traveled to Europe to raise funds for his yeshivah, in the context of the economic hardships of the Old Yishuv, but his efforts evolved into a broader crusade against crypto-Sabbateans deemed to be undermining rabbinic authority. His stay in Livorno, a city with which he had family ties, proved decisive: upon arriving in Livorno, he obtained from Vega, his family's patron, the promise of additional support, thereby extending the patronage that had sustained his father.
The defining episode was the Hayon affair, in Amsterdam. In Amsterdam, he became acquainted with Tsvi Ashkenazi, then rabbi of the Ashkenazi congregation, and helped him expose the impostor Nehemia Hayon. This campaign came at a high personal cost: the endeavor earned him more enemies, and, like Tsvi Ashkenazi, he was compelled to leave the city in 1714. The episode reveals the fragility of the polemicist's position, caught between the defense of orthodoxy and the internal rivalries of Amsterdam's Sephardic and Ashkenazi communities.
There followed the long German period. Until 1738, he resided in Altona; he then returned to Palestine, settling first in Sidon, then in Safed, where he died sometime after 1750. His matrimonial alliances confirm his rootedness within the Sephardic elite: he married a daughter of Raphaël Mordekhaï Malachi, thereby becoming the brother-in-law of Hizqiyya da Silva.
His principal weapon was the pen. His most distinctive talent was that of a polemicist, and he campaigned relentlessly against Jewish heresy in an attempt to unify the rabbinate. His works — foremost among them Mishnat Hakhamim and Sefat Emet — articulate a defense of tradition alongside a denunciation of heresy. Hagiz composed polemical works and circulated letters condemning adherents, which led to bans and excommunications in the 1720s and 1730s that curtailed the spread of the movement.
The denunciation of Eybeschutz belongs to family memory and to the continuation of Moshe Hagiz's work, but the archive imposes a decisive chronological nuance — hence the intersection register. The great controversy surrounding the amulets of Jonathan Eybeschutz was led not by Hagiz himself but by Jacob Emden. This controversy was a serious rabbinical dispute, with political ramifications across Europe, arising from the accusations of Rabbi Jacob Emden (1697–1776) against Rabbi Jonathan Eybeschutz (1690–1764), whom he accused of being a secret Sabbatean. The controversy was born over the amulets that Emden suspected Eybeschutz of having issued; it was alleged that these amulets acknowledged the messianic claims of Shabbetai Tzevi, and Emden then accused Eybeschutz of heresy.
The rabbinical tradition nevertheless connects Hagiz to this affair, as a precursor whose torch Emden took up. A transmitted account underscores this bond of polemical filiation: it is reported that the incriminating amulet constituted the proof that Moshe Hagiz had never managed to find — a formulation that explicitly places Hagiz upstream of Emden's struggle. Memory moreover groups together the successive enemies of orthodoxy: tradition cites Hayyun, Prossnitz, and Hassid among the heretics targeted by the anti-Sabbatean campaigns.
Thus, attributing to Moshe Hagiz the direct denunciation of Eybeschutz represents a shortcut of Memory: History establishes that he was the great pursuer of Hayon and the crypto-Sabbateans of the 1710s–1730s, while the Eybeschutz affair erupted chiefly after 1750, carried forward by Emden. Tradition is not wrong on substance — Hagiz was indeed the inspiration for this vigilance — but the archive corrects the chronology. This tension between received narrative and documentary evidence illustrates precisely what the historiography of antisemitism and internal controversies, as practiced by Jacob Katz, teaches us about the making of polemical memories [Katz, 1980].
Beyond the two major figures, the name Hagiz has spread throughout the Sephardic and Judeo-Arabic sphere, where it survives in communal memory, language, and legal archives. Sephardic genealogy is reconstructed precisely through the cross-referencing of local rabbinical records: court documents, such as the archives of the Beth Din of Salé or those of the Beth Din of Tlemcen, preserve traces of Maghrebi families, their marriage contracts, and their inheritance disputes. It is within these collections that the persistence of a family name can be verified beyond the great printed figures.
The name itself carries the linguistic memory of the diaspora. The Hebrew component embedded in the Judeo-Arabic vernaculars of the Maghreb, studied by Moshe Bar-Asher for Algeria, shows how sacred vocabulary became sediment in domestic language, carrying with it names, formulas, and rabbinical titles [Bar-Asher, 1992]. The patronym Hagiz, pronounced and transmitted within these communities, belongs to this onomastic heritage.
As for living Memory, it is perpetuated in Judeo-Spanish culture, whose scholarly journals keep its remembrance alive. The Sephardic cultural review Akí Yerushaláyim, directed by Moshe Shaul, exemplifies this active transmission of Sephardic heritage in Judeo-Spanish [Shaul, 2016]. The Hagiz family, through its language of origin — that Spanish which the yeshivah Beth Yaakov still taught in Jerusalem in the seventeenth century — belongs fully to this Sephardic cultural continuum that these publications keep alive.
Here, Memory and archive answer each other without always coinciding: oral tradition preserves a prestigious name, the legal archive verifies its local rootedness, and philology explains its persistence. It is from this triangulation that an honest genealogy is born.
The Hagiz lineage offers a striking shortcut through the Sephardic history of the modern age. Born in Fès from the exiles of Sefarad, shaped in the printing houses of Livourne, institutionalized in Jerusalem through the patronage of diaspora merchants, and finally projected into the communal arenas of Amsterdam and Altona, it traversed the entire geography of the Mediterranean and Atlantic Jewish world. From Samuel Hagiz, rabbi of Fès who died in 1634, to Moshe Hagiz, who died in Safed after 1750, more than a century of scholarly wandering unfolds.
Two figures dominate: Jacob, the founder, who made the yeshivah Beth Yaakov a center of open Sephardic learning, and Moshe, the polemicist, who made the defense of orthodoxy against clandestine Sabbateanism the work of a lifetime. The historian must here distinguish Memory from archive: Moshe Hagiz was, as is established, the great adversary of Nehemia Hayon; his connection to the Eybeschutz affair belongs more to the spiritual legacy gathered by Jacob Emden than to any direct action.
What remains is the essential: a family that transformed uprootedness into authority, and whose name, transmitted through the Judeo-Spanish language and preserved in the rabbinical archives of the Maghreb, continues to bear witness to the vitality of a Sephardic world that neither exile nor controversy managed to dissolve.
