My name is Samuel Judah Katzenellenboghen, born in Padua in 1521 and son of the esteemed scholar Meir Katzenellenboghen, and it is an honour to welcome you to the place where stone and a carpet of leaves, cradled in sacred silence, guard my memory.
As I lie here, beneath this gravestone, which together with the memory of my name endures the passage of centuries, I am pleased to share with you, dear visitor, the story of my life and the legacy I have left to the enchanting city of Padua. Let my words accompany you beyond space and time into a bygone era. The era in which I lived: the 16th century.
From an early age, I was fascinated by the study and art of oratory, skills handed down by my father, whom I silently observed and admired. It was he, known for his genius and intuition, who immediately recognised these skills within me, helping me to cultivate them through his teachings. Taking me by the hand, he introduced me to the boundless universe of knowledge hidden within the pages of the great texts of the Jewish religion.
As soon as I reached the age that should represent a carefree season for every child, however, I immediately realised that everyone I knew and loved, including my father, was treated differently from others, just because they were Jewish. With more cruelty and prejudice. During this period, in fact, we Jews from Padua were forced to face increasing discrimination and persecution, as well as strong marginalisation imposed by the ruling authorities.
In those years I discovered that the ghetto, established a few years before my birth, was not just the area where we lived, but the place where we were confined. Only because we were Jews. Despite my questions as to why such cruelty occurred, no one could ever answer me. Probably because there was no answer. I soon realised that the only way out of those walls and the strict rules that governed our daily lives as Jews, travelled along two parallel paths, impossible to confine: study and faith.
The Jewish community in Padua at this time was mainly engaged in money lending, trade and the medical professions. Despite our large economic contributions, we Jews were still subject to restrictions on our activities and faced limitations in our social interactions with Christians.
After the death of my revered father in 1565, I was chosen as rabbi of Venice, following in his illustrious footsteps. It was within these sacred walls of learning that I not only continued my father's work, but also left an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of those who sought my guidance. My students, guided by a deep love and respect for me, carved a bust in my likeness, adorning their school with it, a constant reminder of the teachings I instilled in them.
Beyond the borders of our beloved community, I held a prominent position among Jewish and non-Jewish contemporaries. Thanks to my vast knowledge and academic achievements, I earned immense respect from such luminaries as Joseph Karo, Solomon Luria and Moses Isserles. Their admiration for my intellectual abilities gained me enormous credibility and authority in the academic circles of the time.
What made me most proud was that, despite great prejudice, hatred and restrictions, my value was recognised not only by my Jewish brothers. Even the Jewish convert Paul Weidner, through his works, dedicated his efforts to me, testifying to the universal respect I had earned.
One particular encounter would forever remain etched in the annals of my memory. The Polish prince Mikołaj Krzysztof, known as 'the Orphan', honoured the enchanting city of Padua with his presence. His pleas for financial assistance in the midst of his journey reached my ears and, without hesitation, I extended my hand, providing him with the means to continue his travels. In return, I implored him to treat our Jewish brothers with fairness and clemency, protecting them from the grave accusation of ritual murder that had plagued our people for centuries.
As the years passed, I became a witness to the history of my time. I have witnessed change, resistance, the rise and fall of empires. My eyes have observed the evils of the world, my heart has cultivated faith, and my hands, together with my mouth, have worked tirelessly to spread faith, knowledge and hope until my last moments of life. One spring day, 25 March 1597, my eyes closed forever, while an expression of peace was drawn on my face.
My story, however, did not end with my mortal life. At my untimely death, Leo Modena, a figure of great eloquence and calligraphy, delivered a touching funeral oration in my honour. His words are now forever enshrined in the pages of Mivchar Yehudah, a testimony to the impact I had on the lives of those around me.
I left a singular legacy, a testimony to my dedication to the pursuit of truth and the preservation of Jewish heritage. Through my writings, my responsa were immortalised in the collections of Moses Isserles and Samuel Kalai, ensuring that my wisdom and insights would continue to guide future generations.
One cannot ignore the influence I had on the annotated edition of Maimonides' Yad ha-HazaKàh, where I contributed valuable notes that Chaim Yosef David Azulai attributed to my esteemed father, Meir of Padua. These words, forever interwoven with the fabric of Jewish culture, serve as a beacon of knowledge that guides seekers of truth.
And so, dear visitor, as you stand before my humble resting place, enshrined in the timeless beauty of Padua, remember the story I have shared with you. May my words continue to guide and inspire you to continue your journey of discovery and sharing, nourished by the power of faith. The same faith that has illuminated my path, that of my father and each of our heirs.tinuare a guidare e ispirarti per continuare il tuo percorso di scoperta e di condivisione, alimentato dalla forza della fede. La stessa fede che ha illuminato il mio cammino, di mio padre e di ognuno dei nostri eredi.