This week brought with it an unexpected but thrilling opportunity: the chance to acquire a rare and magnificent piece of Jewish printing history – the second edition of the Amsterdam Haggadah, printed in 1712, preserved in its original binding and complete with its famed engraved, fold-out map of Eretz Yisrael. Naturally, I did not hesitate.
The 1712 Amsterdam Haggadah stands as one of the most influential and visually stunning haggadot ever produced. Originally printed in 1695 and reissued 17 years later with subtle but significant enhancements, this edition shaped the visual vocabulary of nearly every illustrated Haggadah that followed. Its impact was – and remains – nothing short of foundational.
The Haggadah is resplendent with 16 hand-colored copperplate engravings and an elaborately engraved title page. At its center lies the celebrated fold-out map of the land of Israel – engraved in Hebrew and bursting with allegory, detail, and imagination. These illustrations were the work of Abraham ben Jacob, a remarkable figure in Jewish publishing: a former Christian pastor from the Rhineland who embraced Judaism in Amsterdam and brought with him the refined techniques of European copperplate engraving. At a time when most Hebrew books still relied on woodcut imagery, ben Jacob’s work signaled a new era of visual sophistication in Jewish printing.
His engravings drew inspiration from the Christian artist Matthäus Merian, himself influenced by Holbein, but ben Jacob was no mere imitator. He infused the Haggadah with enduring and original imagery: the Four Sons appear together for the first time; young Avraham smashes the idols; another panel shows him crossing into Canaan; and a detailed illustration of the Beit HaMikdash stirs longing for the days of the Temple. The 1712 edition mirrors most of the 1695 plates, but adds two distinctive new sets: a 13-part visual guide to the stages of the Seder and a bold depiction of the Ten Plagues – both adapted from the 1609 Venice Haggadah.
And then there’s the map.
One of the earliest printed maps in Hebrew, it captures both the geographic and spiritual journey of Am Yisrael. The layout shows the tribal divisions of the land and the meandering route of Bnei Yisrael through the wilderness. But it’s the artistic flourishes that truly captivate: a woman atop a crocodile symbolizing Mitzrayim, Yonah being swallowed by a great fish, palm trees labeled “Succot,” clusters of honeycombs and grazing cows for “a land flowing with milk and honey,” and majestic rafts of Lebanese cedar en route to Shlomo HaMelech for the construction of the Temple.
A rarely noted feature of the map is its dual narrative. Alongside the Exodus from Egypt, the cartographer also traced the reverse journey – Yaakov and his family’s descent into Egypt. A humble wagon marks their route, a quiet nod to the wagons sent by Yosef to bring his father down to Goshen. In that subtle touch lies an entire chapter of Jewish memory, loss, and return.
The Haggadah itself includes not only the traditional text, but also rich commentaries. Don Yitzchak Abravanel’s Zevach Pesach is presented in abbreviated form, alongside mystical insights from the Shnei Luchot HaBerit by Rabbi Yeshayah HaLevi Horowitz, the Shelah HaKadosh. Instructions for the Seder are thoughtfully printed in Hebrew, Yiddish, and Ladino, reflecting the Amsterdam community’s diverse origins. The liturgy accommodates both Ashkenazic and Sephardic traditions, including dual versions of “Korech” and birkat hamazon.
Even the structure of the volume testifies to its craftsmanship: two engraved title pages – the first featuring Moshe Rabbeinu at the burning bush – replace the six-scene title of the earlier edition, and beautifully historiated woodcut initials are scattered throughout the text.
In short, this Haggadah is not merely a liturgical book. It is a milestone in Jewish art, a beacon in the development of Hebrew printing, and a beloved heirloom of our people’s sacred storytelling. Nearly every visual Haggadah produced in the last three centuries owes something to this edition, and its influence continues to reverberate in modern reproductions and fine facsimiles.
To hold this sefer in one’s hands is to hold a tangible link to our past – a pageant of Jewish faith, creativity, and resilience preserved in copperplate and paper.
