Asnat Barazani: A Woman Rosh Yeshiva!

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Around the year 1630, Rav Pinchas Hariri of Baghdad wrote to Mosul, Kurdistan, asking that they send a rabbinical authority to Baghdad. The letter was addressed to the director of the Mosul yeshivah. She replied that she would soon send one of her students.
She? Yes.

The administrator of the yeshivah in Mosul, a city 250 miles north of Baghdad was a woman — Asnat Barazani¹.

Asnat Barazani was a trailblazing figure whose life unfolded amidst the backdrop of 17th century Mosul, Kurdistan. Through the fragments of manuscripts and historical accounts that have survived the passage of time, Asnat’s narrative emerges as a testament to the indomitable spirit of a woman whose commitment to Torah scholarship transcended societal norms and gender expectations of the time.

To be sure, in history, Jewish women have left their mark as trailblazers, innovators and leaders for our nation – but the emergence of the story of a woman who served as a teacher of Torah, are one and a few.

Who was Asnat Barzani, and what is her story?

Born circa 1590 into a lineage steeped in rabbinical tradition, Asnat Barazani inherited a legacy of scholarly excellence from her forebears. Her grandfather, Rav Netanel Barazani, was a revered rabbi and Kabbalist in Mosul, laying the groundwork for a family tradition that would shape Asnat’s own intellectual journey². Raised in an environment where Torah study was revered above all else, Asnat’s upbringing imbued her with a deep reverence for knowledge and a thirst for learning that would define her life’s work.

Despite prevailing societal norms that relegated women to domestic roles, Asnat’s father, Rav Shmuel Barazani, recognized her intellectual potential from a young age and afforded her the rare opportunity of a rigorous education. In a society where female scholars were a rarity, Asnat’s pursuit of Torah knowledge defied convention and challenged entrenched gender biases. Under her father’s tutelage, she honed her intellect and deepened her understanding of Jewish texts, emerging as a luminary in her own right within the scholarly circles of Mosul.

She describes this in her own words in the first document to be brought to the attention of scholars by the early 20th-century German-Jewish anthropologist Erich Bauer, and by historian Jacob Mann:

“And [my father] made my husband promise that he would not make me perform work, and [my husband] did as [my father] commanded him. From the beginning, the rabbi [my husband, Yaakov Mizrahi] was busy with his studies and had no time to teach the pupils, so I taught them in his stead. I was a helpmate for him… [I undertook to garner support for] the sake of my father…and the rabbi…so that their Torah and names should not be brought to naught in these communities [of Kurdistan].”³

Married to Yaakov Mizrahi, her father’s esteemed disciple, Asnat found a kindred spirit in her husband, whose own commitment to Torah study mirrored her own. Together, they formed a formidable partnership, united by their shared passion for Torah learning and its continued transmission. By stipulating that she be relieved of household duties, Asnat ensured that she would have the time and freedom to fully immerse herself in the pursuit of Torah scholarship, a decision that would pave the way for her transformative impact on the Jewish community of Mosul.⁴

Central to Asnat’s narrative is her role as a custodian of the Mosul yeshivah, where her husband was Rosh Yeshiva. Following her husband’s passing, Asnat assumed the mantle of leadership on her own shoulders. Faced with mounting debts and dwindling resources, she turned to her scholarly prowess and innate eloquence, employing both to rally support for the yeshivah’s continued existence.

Evidently, she did much fundraising by mail. In an emotional appeal written in lyrical Hebrew, she shows her expertise in Jewish sources and her gift for poetry.

“I will cry out for Torah and sigh… There is no limit to my desire… The spark of light ignites the cloudy haze. … I call to you, my friends, I beseech you… I count on your generous spirit.” She concludes, “Raise the rays of light…that Torah should not be extinguished.”
The debts of the yeshivah were often so heavy that her own possessions were confiscated, and yet she writes “I still continued to teach Torah, speaking on the subjects of family purity, tefillah, Shabbat and similar topics.”⁵

Asnat Barzani is a renowned figure among the Kurdistani Jewish community. Many legends and stories narrate her life and the miracles she performed. The most famous is the tale of the “Flock of Angels” which is told at Rosh Chodesh in Mizrachi communities.

According to the legend, her father often appeared in Barzani’s dreams, revealing dangers to her and telling her how to avert them. On one such occasion, she went to the city of Amêdî where she convinced the Jews to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, making a blessing on the new moon, outdoors, as had been their custom before they were harassed by hostile non Jewish towns-people.

As they proceeded with the celebration, there were shouts and they saw flames shoot up into the sky. The synagogue had been set on fire, with all the sacred books and scrolls in it. After Asnat Barzani whispered a secret name she had learned from her father, the people saw a flock of angels descending to the roof of the synagogue. The angels beat the flames with their wings, until every last spark had been put out. Then they rose up into the heavens like a flock of white doves and were gone. And when the smoke cleared, everybody saw that not only none of the Jews had been hurt since the congregation had been outdoors, but that another miracle had taken place: the synagogue had not burned, nor were any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames. After that miracle, the Jews of Amêdî or Amadiya were not harassed by the gentiles for a long time.⁶

Despite becoming renowned in her generation as a prolific scholar in her own right, a leader of her people, and a spreader of the Torah, Asnat fascinatingly writes the following:

“I never left the entrance to my house or went outside; I was like a princess of Israel, ‘kol kevudah bas melech penimah’.⁷