The Iron Will and Lasting Legacy of Rabbi Moshe Capsali

The Quiet Scholar and the Commanding Leader

In Constantinople, circa 1470, Rabbi Eliyahu Mizrahi, also known as the Re’em, was deep in study at his desk. Surrounded by different manuscripts of Rashi’s Torah commentary, he was immersed in composing his magnum opus, the Sefer Mizrachi, a foundational commentary clarifying Rashi’s words.

A sudden knock interrupted his work. A messenger stood at the door: “The Chief Rabbi summons you immediately.”

Rabbi Mizrahi knew the reason. Rabbi Moshe Capsali, the Hakham Bashi, Chief Rabbi of the Ottoman Empire, was a man of unyielding convictions. Appointed by Sultan Mehmed II, Rabbi Capsali was not only the spiritual leader of the empire’s Jews but also wielded political clout, overseeing rabbinic appointments and tax collection for the entire Jewish population. He was determined to elevate the authority of the Hakham Bashi to the level of the Muslim Mufti and the Christian Pope.

When Rabbi Mizrahi entered, the contrast between the two rabbis was stark. Rabbi Mizrahi was gentle, soft-spoken, and philosophical. Rabbi Capsali, by contrast, was bold, commanding, and fiery.

“I’ve heard,” thundered Rabbi Moshe, “that you allow Karaites among your students. They are heretics, destroyers of Judaism! How can you allow them to cross your threshold?”
Rabbi Mizrahi explained that he hoped to return them to tradition through the light of Torah, but Rabbi Capsali would not yield. “I decree: no Karaite may enter your study hall.”

Such was the authoritative reach of Rabbi Capsali: even renowned Torah giants dared not defy his decrees.

Guardianship and Zealotry: Rabbi Moshe Capsali in Action

Born on the island of Crete in the city of Candia, Rabbi Moshe Capsali carried the burden of preserving Jewish law in an era of sweeping change. When young Jewish men began adopting the ways of the Ottoman soldiers, he issued public rebukes and disciplinary rulings. Once, a disaffected youth tried to assassinate him in the street, narrowly missing with a hurled sword.

His fiery resolve extended to safeguarding the sanctity of marriage. In one case, a young man jokingly handed a girl a fig and declared, “Behold, you are betrothed to me.” Rabbi Moshe was incensed. Marriage was no game. He swiftly issued a takkanah (rabbinic enactment): no betrothal was valid unless performed before a quorum of ten. Violators, he ruled, would have their betrothals nullified.

Yet not everyone welcomed his uncompromising leadership. His detractors portrayed him as power-hungry and dismissive of halachic norms. They appealed to Rabbi Yosef Colon (the Maharik), the foremost Ashkenazic authority of the time, misrepresenting the facts. Taking their word, the Maharik issued a scathing rebuke, accusing Rabbi Moshe of arrogance and overreach.

Loyalty in the Face of Controversy

Seeking to exploit the Maharik’s opposition, some opponents approached Rabbi Mizrahi, who had once been chastised by Rabbi Moshe, hoping he would join their attack. But Rabbi Mizrahi, though previously humiliated, consulted his own teacher, Rabbi Yehuda Mintz, and refused to join the campaign. “All that Rabbi Moshe does,” said Rabbi Mintz, “is for the sake of Heaven.”

Rabbi Moshe, in turn, composed a powerful response to the Maharik, defending his actions and presenting endorsements from leading rabbinic authorities and entire communities, including the Jewish leadership of Candia, who wrote:
"We testify with our own souls that this holy man, Rabbi Moshe, would sooner endure a hundred deaths than deviate one hair’s breadth from our sacred tradition."

Unfortunately, the Maharik passed away before reading these clarifications, but the controversy had already made waves across the vast Ottoman Empire.

A Legacy Continued

Despite their differences in style, Rabbi Mizrahi eventually succeeded Rabbi Moshe Capsali as Hakham Bashi. His leadership was marked by a gentler tone and a deep commitment to Torah scholarship. A brilliant mathematician, he even developed a formula for calculating the square root of a cube, a rare feat in his time.

Toward the end of his life, Rabbi Mizrahi’s son-in-law, likely under his guidance, advocated for limiting the centralized power of the Hakham Bashi. He believed it was healthier for local communities to follow their own rabbinic leaders rather than one distant authority. It was a vision rooted in humility and respect for diverse traditions.

Still, both Rabbi Moshe’s authoritative leadership and Rabbi Mizrahi’s scholarly moderation reflect enduring truths: the need for courage in the face of communal erosion and the necessity of wisdom in navigating complex realities. Both men, in their way, helped shape the spiritual infrastructure of Jewish life under Ottoman rule and left a legacy that endures to this day.