Assorted Comments on R. Jacob Emden, Ashkenazic Views of Sephardic Gedolim, and More

November 2, 2015, 10:29 am

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Assorted Comments on R. Jacob Emden, Ashkenazic Views of Sephardic Gedolim, and More

by Marc B. Shapiro

1. Since I have discussed R. Jacob Emden in many posts, let me add the following. If you examine Emden’s Birat Migdal ha-Oz you find that he refers to himself as הסריס. Here is the Berditchev 1836 edition of the work, p. 135a.[1]

I think all would agree that this is a strange title to give oneself. In this work, p. 116a, he also calls himself שלו.

On p. 44a he refers to himself as שאול.

On pp. 101b and 102a he refers to himself as שכוי.

Here is Lehem Shamayim (Wandsbeck, 1728), vol. 1, p. 1a (see also 2a) where he also refers to himself as שכוי.

Returning to Birat Migdal Oz, on p. 108b he refers to himself as שלה.

What is this all about? The answer was revealed by R. Meir Segal in his 1881 commentary on Emden’s siddur (although I am sure many people had already figured it out).[2] The gematriyot of all these words are either 335 or 336. This corresponds to יעקב בן צבי, the gematria of which is also 336 (and we know that gematriyot are allowed to be off by one number).

In Amudei Shamayim, vol. 2, p. 154a, which you can see here

Emden writes:

סוד פורי"ים בקצור רומז ג"א ממותקים בג"ה (ס"ה של"ו הוא בה"ס . . .)

As R. Segal explains,[3] this is to be “translated” as:

סוד פורים בקיצור רומז ג'א-להים ממותקים בג'הויות ס"ה גימטריא של"ו הוא בעל הספר

ס"ה obviously stands for סך הכל and what it is saying – ignoring the kabbalistic allusion – is that the gematria of פורים equals 336 and this is also equaled by א-להים x 3 = 258 + הויה x 3 = 78 (258+78=336)..

As mentioned, Emden refers to himself as שלו. How is this supposed to be pronounced? Some people would assume shelo. I originally thought that a more likely meaning was shalev, which means “calm” or “tranquil”. R. Segal also understands it this way since he writes[4] כנה א"ע בשם שלו כי השלום יאות לבוטח

Shilo is also sometimes spelled as שלו so that is another possibility.

However, these suggestions are incorrect, and the proper way to pronounce it is selav, as in quail. We know this because of the verse in Psalms 105:40:

שאל ויבא שלו ולחם שמים ישביעם

The second half of the verse has the words לחם שמים. This is the name of Emden’s commentary on the Mishnah. I am certain that the connection of שלו and לחם שמים was regarded as significant by Emden, and this also reveals how שלו should be pronounced.[5]

2. In Changing the Immutable, p. 205, I cite a letter from R. Elhanan Wasserman to R. Eliezer Silver and note that the published version of the letter, in Kovetz Ma’amarim ve-Iggerot, vol. 2, p. 97, omits R. Wasserman telling R. Silver that before R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski’s death the latter reached for his wife’s hand. R. Moshe Maimon informed me that the letter with the deleted words restored was published in R. Pinchos Lipshutz, Peninei Hen (Monsey, 2000), pp. 76-77. Here it is.

From the original letter we can see that R. Hayyim Ozer’s comment that things are not good was made to his wife. However, one who reads the letter in Kovetz Ma’amarim ve-Iggerot would have to conclude that this statement was made to R. Elhanan, as the passage reads:

שעה קלה לפני הפטירה . . . אמר: "דוא וויסט עס איז ניט גוט" (אתה יודע שהמצב אינו טוב)

As I mentioned in the book, I think it is significant that the publisher inserted three dots showing that something was deleted, since this is very uncommon among haredi publishers. But the following is also important: In the original letter R. Elhanan writes אמר לה, meaning that R. Hayyim Ozer made this comment to his wife. Also (and this point was made to me by Maimon), in the Hebrew translation what appears is אתה יודע which is masculine and indicates that the comment was made to R. Elhanan. These changes had to be made since once the line about holding his wife’s hand is removed, it would not make sense for the reader to see a reference to a woman, as in אמר לה.

Maimon also called my attention to the following: Here is a famous painting portraying Napoleon granting freedom to the Jews. Notice how Napoleon appears like Moses, holding a Tablet of the Law.

Here incidentally is another image from a coin minted on the occasion of the meeting of the Sanhedrin summoned by Napoleon. Notice how Napoleon is handing the Two Tablets of the Law to Moses. In other words, Napoleon is portrayed as God.[6]

Returning to the painting of Napoleon, it is reproduced in R. Binyamin Shlomo Hamburger’s Meshihei ha-Sheker u-Mitnagdeihim (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 481, yet here sleeves have been added to the woman.

Since I have just mentioned R. Moshe Maimon, let me continue with a couple of his comments. In my book, p. 97 n. 67, I translate minhag vatikin[7] as a “long established practice”. I actually should have said “long established practice of the pious ones” (although some might see this as already implied). Maimon questions whether there is any relationship between vatikin and “long established”, or it if just means “the pious ones”. I always assumed that vatikin means the “pious ones of old”. Indeed, Jastrow translates the word as “the conscientiously pious men of former days”, and an online search reveals that others translate similarly.

Yet Rashi, Berakhot 9b, explains vatikin as אנשים ענוים ומחבבין מצוה, and in this explanation there is no assumption that the vatikin lived in former days. In other words, a practice developed by contemporary pious ones could also be regarded as a minhag vatikin, and there appears to be no reason for me to have thought that Rashi would assume that the vatikin he describes were also “men of old”.

While modern Hebrew uses the word vatik to mean old or one involved in something for a long time, e.g., מוותיקי הסופרים, I have to acknowledge that, with apparently one exception (see note 8), I have not found early uses of the term that have this connotation. One who paid attention during the High Holidays liturgy would have noticed the term and it has nothing to do with “old” here, e.g., הועד והותיקות, לותיק ועושה חסד, and others.[8] See also Arukh, ed., Kohut, s.v. ותק, which offers Arabic and Greek cognates that have no connection to age. For those really interested in the topic, you should consult David Golinkin’s learned and comprehensive article which also shows that the term vatikin has no connection to age.[9]

Maimon also made the following correction. On p. 229 n. 64, I refer to R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira’s criticism of Slobodka students and his negative view of R. Moses Mordechai Epstein, and note that this was removed from some editions of R. Moses Goldstein’s Mas’ot Yerushalayim.[10] The censored material I refer to is from a conversation between R. Shapira, the Rebbe of Munkacz, and R. Solomon Eliezer Alfandari, and contrary to what I carelessly wrote, what was deleted was stated by R. Alfandari, not R. Shapira. This matter, and the censorship, is discussed by Maimon in a Seforim Blog contribution here.

Let me offer another example where Mas’ot Yerushalayim is censored (and this is not noted by Maimon in his post just mentioned). Here is Mas’ot Yerushalayim (Munkacz, 1931), pp. 91a-91b.

It mentions that after R. Alfandari’s death his writings were under the control of certain Sephardic rabbis who were associated with the Chief Rabbinate. These rabbis are referred to as .איזה רבני ומלקקי המשרד מהצפרדעי"ם The last word, צפרדעים (frogs) is a play on ספרדים.

Here is how the page looks in a later edition published in Israel (pp. 319-320). As you can see, the reference to the צפרדעים has been deleted.

The same deletion is found in the 2004 edition (p. 237)

Needless to say, Sephardic readers were not pleased to see this. But this wasn’t the only thing to upset them. Earlier in the book (pp. 26a-b in the first edition), we find that R. Shapira stated that he heard from R. Yehezkel Shraga Halberstam of Sieniawa that when the latter was in Jerusalem on the yahrzeit of R. Hayyim ben Attar, the Or ha-Hayyim, he observed that the Sephardim did not visit his grave. He inquired about this and was told that even though the Or ha-Hayyim was a Sephardi, he had disputes with the Sephardim and the latter did not recognize his greatness. Referring to the Sephardim, he quotes Psalms 82:5: “They know not, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness.” This is contrasted to the Ashkenazim who give the Or ha-Hayyim his proper respect.

Here is the passage.

The text was altered in the next edition.

In the Jerusalem 2004 edition it is back in its entirety.

When Mas’ot Yerushalayim appeared, R. Meir Vaknin, the rav of Tiberias, was quite angry upon seeing the two texts I have discussed and responded sharply.[11] He completely rejects the notion that the Sephardim do not properly respect the Or ha-Hayyim. He also denies that there was ever a dispute between the Sephardic community and the Or ha-Hayyim.

Why then do the Sephardim not go to the Or ha-Hayyim’s grave on his yahrzeit? R. Vaknin explains that the reason is simple, namely, that Sephardim don’t have this minhag and they were never taught to do so by R. Isaac Luria. Therefore, they don’t go to graves on any yahrzeit, “not to the ARI, not to Maran the Beit Yosef, and not to the Rambam. Even to Rabbi Shimon Ben Yohai only a very small number go to Meron.”

R. Vaknin is speaking about the Sephardic community in the Land of Israel before the massive aliyah of the North African Jews. Today, of course, Meron is full of Sephardim on Lag ba-Omer (which people mistakenly believe to be the yahrzeit of R. Shimon Ben Yohai[12]), but R. Vaknin provides testimony about how things were very different not too long ago.

As for Mas’ot Yerushalayim referring to Sephardim as צפרדעים, R. Vaknin is simply outraged by this insult:

והאם טוב וישר הדבר הזה בעיני א-להים ואדם לכתוב ולכנות שם רע על העם הקדוש הספרדי כולו בכללותו, מי יוכל להתאפק על בזיון ושם רע על כללות עם הקודש, ואיזה תקון יועיל לכלות העון הזה ולהתם הפשע החמור, אפילו המכנה שם רע לחברו עיין ברז"ל כמה חמור ענשו, וכל שכן על כללות העם כולו אשר כמה וכמה גדולי תורה נמצאים בתוכו, כמה צדיקים וחסידים וסובלי חולאים וסיגופים ותעניות לכבוד ה'ותורתו נמצאים בתוכו

R. Vaknin also printed a letter by R. Jacob Zarihan of Tiberias. He too was very upset by what appears in Mas’ot Yerushalayim.

The 2004 edition of Mas’ot Yerushalayim has Goldstein’s reply to R. Vaknin in which he apologizes if he caused offense.[13] He stresses that his negative words about the צפרדעים were only made with reference to those Sephardic rabbis associated with theמשרד , i.e., the Chief Rabbinate.[14] This could hardly have been of any comfort to R. Vaknin since unlike the Ashkenazic world, the Sephardic world did not have an extremist Edah Haredit, and almost all of the Sephardic rabbis had great respect for the Rishon le-Tziyon, R. Jacob Meir, and the other outstanding Sephardic rabbis who worked with him.

It is noteworthy that Goldstein’s rebbe, R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, also had some negative things to say about Sephardim. In his discussion about the apparently Sabbatean work Hemdat Yamim, R. Shapira refers to R. Hayyim Palache who in his Kol ha-Hayyim[15] defends the Hemdat Yamim, even if the author was a Sabbatian. As R. Palache states, Rabbi Akiva made a mistake in thinking that Bar Kokhba was the Messiah, but this does not disqualify the Torah teachings of R. Akiva. Similarly, we should not disqualify the Hemdat Yamim no matter what the author believed about Shabbetai Zvi. R. Shapira thinks that this is nonsense, and it is obvious to him that if the author of Hemdat Yamim was a Sabbbatian then the work must be shunned.

What angers R. Shapira even more is that R. Palache later states (Kol ha-Hayyim, p. 18a) that there is a tradition not to speak at all about the Shabbetai Zvi episode, not even in a negative way[16]:

וכבר יש קבלה מרבותינו ואבותינו הקדושים שלא לדבר מטוב ועד רע על ענין ש"ץ כי גם קוב לא תקבנו גם ברך לא תברכנו

R. Shapira finds this outrageous, since how can one not speak negatively about such an evil person as Shabbetai Zvi. He writes:[17]

ורחמנא לישזבן מהאי דעתא הנפסדת המטלת ספיקות מעין היש ה'בקרבנו וכו'והיתכן כי על משיח השקר שהמיר דתו למחמדנות באונס או ברצון ועכ"פ שהסית והדיח אלפים מישראל עליו כתוב "גם קוב לא תקבנו"ובודאי בע"כ שהטיל ספיקות אולי הי'אמת ע"כ קוב לא תקבנו לרעה. לא יאומן כי יסופר שיהי'כזה נדפס מרב מגדולי הספרדים לולי ראיתי בעיני – אוי לנו שכך עלתה בימנו שהפרוץ מרובה. ואולי [צ"ל ואילו] הי'כזה נדפס בדור הקדום היו גדולי הדור מרעישים עולם.

After these harsh words, R. Shapira offers his explanation of how R. Palache could have written what he did, and it is perhaps the all-time greatest put-down of Sephardim in rabbinic literature. While R. Shapira has great respect for the Sephardim of earlier generations, and also for special individuals such as R. Alfandari,[18] he thinks that most Sephardim of recent years are simply not that smart, and are thus able to believe all sorts of nonsense.

וחשבתי להצדיק קצת את הה"ג ז"ל בע"ס כל החיים להיות הספרדים בימינו בטבעם רובם נמוכי השכל נוחין להתפתות ולהאמין לכל דבר ע"כ השיאם עון אשמה גם לגדוליהם רבניהם בספיקות כאלה.

What R. Shapira did not know is that this strategy of not speaking bad about Shabbetai Zvi had nothing to do with being sympathetic to him, and was certainly not an example of Sephardic stupidity. Rather, as Gershom Scholem notes, it was a strategy chosen by the rabbis in order to allow the community to return to normal.

In choosing this course, the rabbis of Constantinople and Smyrna may have attempted the impossible; at any rate they acted in what seemed to them the most reasonable and responsible fashion. . . . The messianic propaganda, which had not been checked by either the rabbis or the lay leaders, had roused their emotions and faith to such a pitch that rational criticism and appeals to traditional standards would probably have availed little. It seemed safer and wiser to ignore the whole matter as far as possible, and to let time and oblivion heal the wound. Neither condemnation nor apologies, but silence alone would enable the disturbed community to find the way back to normal life.[19]

Scholem quotes the passage from R. Palache cited above, and he also summarizes another passage from the very same section in R. Palache’s Kol ha-Hayyim.

The earlier version of the story was that R. Sabbatai Ventura of Sofia had shown disrespect at Nathan’s tomb, whereupon his hand dried up and remained paralyzed until he returned again to the tomb and prayed for forgiveness. When his son Abraham Ventura passed through the city on his travels on behalf of the community of Safed, “a drop fell on him during his first night there and he died . . . and was buried next to the tomb of R. Nathan.” (The story is told by R. Hayyim Palache of Smyrna in Kol ha-Hayyim [Smyrna, 1874], pp. 17-18.)[20]

In the earlier Hebrew version of Scholem’s work, Shabbetai Tzvi (Jerusalem, 1957), vol. 2, p. 794 n. 2, the direct quotation of R. Palache is a little different:

"נפל עליו טיפה בלילה ראשונה שנכנס שם וימת שם אברהם וקברוהו סמוך ממש לקברו"של ר'נתן, כפי שסופר בס'כל החיים לר'חיים פאלאג'י מאיזמיר, דפים יז, יח.

Notice how in the Hebrew quotation from R. Palache there is no mention of “R. Nathan” (of Gaza). In other words, the English version is mistaken in including the words “R. Nathan” as part of the direct quote.

Most people who examine the matter will probably also assume that Scholem’s Hebrew text is mistaken, since the story R. Palache tells (which appears on p. 18a, not pp. 17-18 as mentioned by Scholem), has nothing to do with Nathan of Gaza and thus the latter should not have been mentioned by Scholem. As you can see from the page following this paragraph (from Kol ha-Hayyim 18a), R. Palache’s story is about the grave of the anonymous author of Hemdat Yamim, not Nathan of Gaza. (Scholem himself did not regard Nathan of Gaza as the author of Hemdat Yamim.[21])

What is going on here? Can we assume that a careful scholar like Scholem made such a blunder and inserted Nathan of Gaza into a story that has nothing to do with him? The answer is no, and let me explain what is behind what Scholem writes since for some inexplicable reason he doesn’t do it himself. In Mekhkerei Shabtaut (Tel Aviv, 1991), p. 251, Scholem notes that once R. Jacob Emden (mistakenly) identified Nathan of Gaza as the author of Hemdat Yamim,[22] most Ashkenazic scholars kept away from the book. However, the Sephardic scholars had a different view, and they continued to treasure Hemdat Yamim despite the fact that they regarded Nathan of Gaza as its author. Furthermore, they began to refer to Nathan of Gaza as הרב חמדת ימים.

So let us now look again at the passage from R. Palache. It mentions that R. Shabbetai Ventura visited the city of איסקופייא where the grave of הרב חמדת ימים is found. איסקופייא is none other than Skoplje in Macedonia, and this is where Nathan of Gaza died and was buried. In other words, when the story speaks about visiting the grave of הרב חמדת ימים it is referring to visiting the grave of Nathan of Gaza. In Kol ha-Hayyim, p. 17b, R. Palache states that we don’t know who wrote Hemdat Yamim, so it seems that he was passing on a tradition the significance of which even he did not grasp. (If my assumption is correct that R. Palache did not realize that the story he told was referring to visiting the grave of Nathan of Gaza, then he must have assumed that while his generation did not know who the author of Hemdat Yamim was, earlier generations did know, and even knew where his grave was.) What Scholem writes in Sabbatai Sevi about the grave of Nathan of Gaza and Rabbi Shabbetai Ventura and his son Abraham is incomprehensible without the explanation just given, and I have no idea why Scholem did not feel it necessary to provide it himself.

Returning to the comments of R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, I wonder what he would have said about the Ashkenazi R. Joseph Seliger who commented that it really doesn’t matter whether R. Jonathan Eybeschuetz believed in Shabbetai Zvi, and our respect for him would not be lessened by such an error.[23]

בדבר המחלקת שבין הגאונים ר'יונתן ור'יעקב עמדן כבר עשה העם כלו פשרה בין שני החולקים ששניהם היו חכמי אמת וצדיקים גמורים, אלא שר'יונתן ז"ל היה נוח ועלוב וענו תלמידו של הלל. ולכן עלה גם בחכמה וגם במעשה מאיש ריבו הקנא והקפדן של שמאי. נושא המחלקת היה נכבד רק בשעתו, בעת אשר פשתה האלילות של ש"ץ וכמעט גמרה לבלע את כל ישראל ותורתו בהבליה ובקסמיה. היום הנה שאלה קלת ערך אם האמין ר'יונתן בש"ץ או לא . . . לו האמין ר'יונתן באמת בש"ץ, אין הטעות החלקית הזאת גדולה מהטעות הכללית להאמין בקמעות. ואם בכל זה כבוד ר'יונתן במקומו מונח לפי מצב הדעות בזמנו, כי לא כל חכמי ישראל זוכים לאמונה צרופה כבן מימון, לא היה ר'יונתן נופל בעינינו אף לו האמין בנביא השקר כר"ח בנבנשתי ז"ל. אבל באמת לא היתה בר'יונתן האמונה הזאת לא ממנה ולא מקצתה.

Due to what R. Shapira said about Sephardim, R. Ovadiah Yosef was very unhappy with him. The following passage, from 24 Sivan, 5767, appears in R. Eliyahu Sheetrit’s Rabbenu.[24] This book is quite fascinating as it is a diary that Sheetrit kept during the years he learnt with R. Ovadiah and assisted him in publishing his books. Most significantly, only a few of the published texts of the diary have been censored.

רבנו כתב על החמדת ימים, ואז ראה בספר חמשה מאמרות של אחד מגאוני הדור הקודם שכתב בצורה לא יפה על הרבנים הספרדים ועל הספרדים בכלל, וגם נזכר במה שבזמנו אמר הגאון הנ"ל על הספרדים "צפרדעים", וביקש ממני לעבור בספר, ובכל מקום שכתוב שמו של הגאון הנ"ל למחוק את המלה "הגאון". עוד אמר רבנו, שהגאון הנ"ל ביקר אצל הגאון מהרש"א אלפנדארי, ושלשה ימים לאחר מכן, נפטר מהרש"א אלפנדארי (ואמר רבנו, שכנראה הגאון הנ"ל עשה עליו עין הרע).

It would be interesting to check if indeed R. Ovadiah’s books published after 2007 are missing the title הגאון before R. Shapira’s name. In the introduction to Hazon Ovadiah: Arba Ta’aniyot, published in 2007, R. Ovadiah refers to R. Shapira’s comments and indeed in this source not only is there no הגאון before his name, but R. Shapira also doesn’t get the less exalted הרה"ג, and he is left with just a ר'. As for what R. Ovadiah said about R. Shapira apparently unintentionally causing the death of R. Alfandari, this will obviously be a great insult to all Munkatcher hasidim.

It must also be noted that R. Ovadiah did not remember correctly, as it was not R. Shapira who referred to the Sephardim as צפרדעים but his follower Moses Goldstein.

R. Chaim Amsalem took note of R. Shapira’s comments about Sephardim and he too was quite offended, and placed these comments in the context of continuing discrimination against Sephardim by the Ashkenazic haredim. He writes as follows (adding a heavy dose Sephardic pride at the end):[25]

מה אני יכול לומר על דברים מעליבים ופוגעים שכאלו "בטבעם רובם נמוכי שכל", אני רק יכול להודות לו שגלה דעתו האמיתית מה הוא חושב הוא ואחרים שכמותו, וא"כ אין פלא על יחס השחצנות והגזענות שהם מגלים כלפי הספרדים, שרי ליה מאריה, וכמה ראוי לו לבקש מחילה קודם כל ממושא הערצתו הגאון מהרש"א אלפאנדרי זצ"ל, הדברים כ"כ נמוכי שכל שאינני רוצה להגרר להעלבות וכדומה, דבריו מדברים בעד עצמם, אבל עוד יבואו ימים שכולם יאכלו מכף ידינו . . .

I am aware of another place where R. Shapira speaks negatively about a great Sephardic sage, R. Hiyya Pontremoli, author of the halakhic work Tzapihit bi-Devash. In Minhat Eleazar, vol. 4, no. 45 (p. 37a), R. Shapira writes as follows:

הנה עשה א"ע כאלו לא ידע או העלים בכונה סוף דברי רש"י . . . וכבר תמהתי עליו איך שכח או במזיד הביא להיפך ממ"ש במאירי

Simply put, he is accusing R. Pontremoli of intellectual dishonesty. R. Ovadiah Yosef[26] calls attention to the second part of the quotation just given, and expresses his great distress that R. Shapira spoke this way about R. Pontremoli.

ואנכי איש צעיר נוראות נפלאתי עליו הפלא ופלא, מפני היד שנשתלחה, לחשוד רב גדול כהגאון בעל צפיחית בדבש, ששכח או הזיד ח"ו בדברי המאירי. הס כי לא להזכיר.

In Abir ha-Ro’im, the recent biography of R. Ovadiah by his grandson, R. Yaakov Sasson, the latter also gives examples of Ashkenazic scholars belittling Sephardic gedolim.[27] The instances Sasson cites should not be understood as conscious belittling. It is just that in these cases the Ashkenazic scholars, not knowing anything about the Sephardic Torah greats, did not take them very seriously. One of Sasson’s examples comes from Iggerot Moshe, Hoshen Mishpat, vol. 2, no. 69 (p. 298), which is R. Moshe Feinstein’s famous responsum on abortion. Here R. Moshe writes:

ופלא שראיתי בספר רב פעלים לחכם ספרדי

Sasson is correct that this is not the most respectful way to refer to R. Joseph Hayyim. R. Moshe continues by rejecting R. Joseph Hayyim’s view and does not pay him much regard. It is because of this that R. Eliezer Waldenberg, in his response to R. Moshe, says as follows after expressing his surprise with the way R. Moshe deals with R. Joseph Hayyim:[28]

ושרי ליה מריה בזה

I would like to know, did R. Moshe even have any idea who R. Joseph Hayyim was? Someone obviously showed R. Moshe the responsum in Rav Pealim, but was it explained to R. Moshe that the author of Rav Pealim is the Ben Ish Hai, and that for many Sephardim R. Joseph Hayyim’s significance is the equivalent of what the Hafetz Hayyim is for Ashkenazim, i.e., a towering figure, both spiritually and halakhically? Did R. Moshe even know the name of the man who wrote Rav Pealim, since if he only had a copy of the responsum he wouldn’t see the author’s name, as there is no name given at the end of the various teshuvot?

It is possible that the answer to one or more of these questions is “no”, and R. Moshe therefore related to R. Joseph Hayyim the same way he related to other scholars, Sephardic and Ashkenazic, whom he did not view as top-of-the-line poskim. In the last paragraph of his responsum, when dealing with R. Eliezer Waldenberg, here too R. Moshe does not show great respect but simply refers to R. Waldenberg as .חכם אחד. Contrast this with how in this responsum R. Moshe refers to R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzinksi, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, and R. Isser Yehudah Unterman.

Leaving aside what I have just mentioned, R. Moshe’s responsum does have some problematic elements. R. David Feldman even claimed that it was not written by R. Moshe! Here is his letter that appears in Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 20, no. 56.

This is a very strange claim, as the responsum first appeared in 1978 in the Sefer ha-Zikaron for R. Yehezkel Abramsky. Are we supposed to believe that a responsum that appeared in R. Moshe’s lifetime was not written by him? This is clearly impossible. (When I made this point to R. Feldman he continued to insist that R. Moshe did not write the responsum.) Yet as I mentioned, there are indeed some problematic things in this responsum. For example, what is one to make of the following sentence in which R. Moshe attacks a point in R. Eliezer Waldenberg’s first responsum on abortion?[29]

וגם כתב שהשאילת יעב"ץ מתיר אף שאסר בפירוש, בשביל לשון וגם בעובר כשר יש צד להקל לצורך גדול, אף שברור ופשוט שלשון יש צד להקל הוא כאמר שיותר צדדים איכא לאסור.

R. Waldenberg states that it is “ridiculous” to claim that when R. Jacob Emden writes יש צד להקל that it really means that it is forbidden.[30] We, of course, would never use such language about something R. Moshe wrote, but the question remains, could R. Moshe really have believed that יש צד להקל means שיותר צדדים איכא לאסור?

R. Moshe Maimon wrote to me as follows:

As for the question of יש צד להקל – I think all R. Moshe meant is that when a posek says יש צד להקל he is conceding that the presumption is that it should really be אסור but nevertheless sees some ground for a קולא. To R. Moshe this indicates that this posek is more inclined to the צד איסור and can be counted on as a סניף supportive of a more stringent view.[31]

An alternative perspective is offered by a Lakewood scholar who wrote to me: “R. Moshe may have vehemently disagreed with the יעב"ץ but preferred to twist the meaning rather than say openly that the יעב"ץ was mistaken, a very typical thing for someone like R. Moshe to do.” I responded that I don’t find this compelling, since in the second to last paragraph of his responsum R. Moshe has no problem stating that Emden is mistaken, so why would he write differently in the last paragraph?

The Lakewood scholar replied as follows:

If it was a sensitive issue (I'm guessing) R. Moshe may have wanted to strip the opposing view of any legitimacy by insisting that the יעב״ץ didn't mean it. It's almost like saying he couldn't have meant it. Regarding the general approach of twisting the words of achronim in order make it consistent with your own view: The Mekor Baruch describes a similar approach that he attributes to Rabbi Chaim Volozhin, that although one may rule against the Shulchan Aruch, one should nonetheless seek to find hairsplitting differences between your ruling and the Shulchan Aruch’s so not to appear as if you are going head on. The Chazon Ish would say that a טעות סופר נפלה rather than say a rishon made a mistake.

Similar to what the Lakewood scholar claimed, R. Chaim Rapoport, who has published a good deal on the Iggerot Moshe, wrote to me as follows:

מ"ש הגרמ"פ שם "שברור ופשוט שלשון יש צד להקל הוא כאמר שיותר צדדים איכא לאסור" [שיש שתמהו על זה], הנה לפענ"ד הדבר מתאים מאד לדרכו של הגרמ"פ כשהוא משוכנע לחלוטין בצדקת שיטתו ובשלילת השיטה החולקת, ובכה"ג הרגיש בעצמו שמוכרח הוא לקרב את הרחוקים בזרוע, כדי לקיים את מה שהי'ברור בעיניו כשמש בצהריים.

ובאמת, בנידון תשובה זו אין דבריו תמוהים כ"כ, שהרי לפעמים מצינו בדברי הפוסקים שכתבו שיש צד להקל ומ"מ אין להקל למעשה [וע"כ צ"ל דהיינו] בגלל שישנם צדדים אחרים [ואפילו צדדים יותר גדולים] להחמיר. ואם כי בנדו"ד הרי מתוכן דברי היעב"ץ אין נראה כן, מ"מ העמיס הגרמ"פ כוונה זו בדברי היעב"ץ, כי 'ההכרח לא יגונה'.

לזל הגרמ"פ בכבודו של הגרא"י ולדנברג בעל שו"ת ציץ אליעזר, הנה אם כנים הדברים, נראה שהי'זה בגלל שהיטב חרה לו להגרמ"פ ע"ז שפרסם הגרא"י ולדנברג את היתרו להפיל עוברי 'תיי-סקס'– אשר לדעתו הר"ז בגדר שפיכת דמים ממש, ואורייתא הוא דמרתחא בי'.

ומ"ש הרב בעל ציץ אליעזר על הגרמ"פ "ושרי לי'מרי'בזה" [על מה שנראה מלשונו שמיעט בחשיבותו ומעמדו של הרב פעלים] נראה שכתב כן כלפי מה שכתב הגרמ"פ בתשובתו הנ"ל עליו [על הצי"א] "ושרי לי'מרי'בזה", ועד"ז כתב הגרמ"פ בתשובתו (שם) על היעב"ץ, וע"ד מה שאחז"ל מדויל ידי'משתלים.

Finally, returning to the matter of negative portrayals of Sephardim, take a look at this bizarre passage in Israel Abraham’s classic Jewish Life in the Middle Ages, p. 122.

There was less warmth in the Oriental Jewish home, less of that tenderness which was once a common characteristic of Jews all the world over, but came in process of time to distinguish Western Jews from their gayer but more shallow brethren of the East. One seems to detect a feebler sense of responsibility in the mental attitude of an Oriental father to his offspring, just as one detects more volubility but less intensity in the Oriental Jew’s prayers.

3. For those who are interested, on Saturday night November 7 at 8pm, I will be speaking at Congregation Ohr Torah, 48 Edgemount Road, Edison, N.J. The title of the talk is “Some Unusual Orthodox Responses to the Rise of Nazism.”

[1] He also refers to himself this way in Birat Migdal Oz two pages later, which is mistakenly numbered as 135a. See also Torat ha-Kenaot (Lvov, 1870), p. 54, where he writes: ונמסר לי הסריס.

[2] Va’ad le-Hakhamim (Lublin, 1881), p. 3a.

[3] Ibid., p. 3b.

[4] Ibid., p. 4a.

[5] See R. Meir Mazuz, Emet Keneh (Bnei Brak, 2000), p. 227. R. Mazuz knows that Emden referred to himself as השכוי, but I can't tell if he is aware that Emden also referred to himself as .שלו I say this since R. Mazuz mentions the gematria of שלו without indicating that Emden ever used the word. He then makes the connection to ולחם שמים ישביעם.

In 1756 the book Shevirat Luhot ha-Aven appeared. The title page says Zolkiew but this is probably intended to cover up its real place of publication, Altona. According to the haskamah, written by R. Abraham of Zamocz, the author is דוד אוז, an otherwise unknown person. There is no doubt, however, that this book was written by Emden. R. Menahem Mendel Goldstein even found a gematria to tie this name to Emden. See Etz Hayyim 15 (Tamuz-Av, 5771), p. 235 n. 46:

דו"ד או"ז עם ב'הכוללים בגי'יעק"ב ב"ן צב"י במספר קטן

[6] The image is from here. This site mistakenly explains that “The kneeling figure represents the Sanhedrin.”

[7] Technically, the word should be pronounced vetikin, with a sheva under the vav, but no one does this.

[8] See Ovadiah Hen, Ha-Ketav ve-ha-Mikhtav (Bnei Brak, 2014), p. 89. See also Ben Yehudah's dictionary which does not list any early sources in which vatik means old. However, Michael Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic of the Talmudic and Geonic Periods (Ramat Gan, 2002), p. 396, gives "old" as a translation for ותיק, referring to its use in an incantation bowl.

[9] “Le-Ferush ha-Munahim ‘Vetikin’, ‘Vatik’, ve’Talmid Vatik’ be-Sefer Ben Sira u-va-Sifrut ha-Talmudit,” Sidra 13 (1997), pp. 47-60.

[10] Maimon and pretty much everyone else transliterate the title as Masaot Yerushalayim. I believe this to be mistaken. מסעות in the title is a construct, and is the same thing as מסעי. There should be a sheva under the samekh, not a kamatz. See here.

[11] See his Va-Yomer Meir, vol. 1, no. 10.

[12] For the origin of the notion that R. Shimon Ben Yohai died on Lag ba-Omer, see Eliezer Brodt’s post here.

[13] This letter originally appeared in Vaknin, Va-Yomer Meir,vol. 1, no. 10.

[14] Mas’ot Yerushalayim (2004), p. 258.

[15] Ma’arekhet he, no. 18 (pp. 17ff.).

[16] I am surprised that R. Shapira doesn’t also criticize R. Palache for mentioning the tradition that R. Hayyim Joseph David Azulai was a gilgul of the author of Hemdat Yamim. See Palache, Kol ha-Hayyim, p. 18a.

[17] Hamishah Ma’amarot (Jerusalem, n.d.), p. 157 (Ma’amar Meshiv Mipnei ha-Kavod).

[18] Regarding R. Alfandari, see the first two stories here from Otzrot ha-Sofer 13 (Tishrei 5763), p. 89.

It boggles the mind to think that there are people who are so gullible that they can actually believe that R. Alfandari met the Hatam Sofer in Pressburg.

There are all sorts of legends about great rabbis visiting far-off places and meeting with other great rabbis. Sometimes the stories are chronologically impossible, e.g., the tale of Ibn Ezra visiting Rashi. See Naftali Ben-Menahem, Inyanei Ibn Ezra (Jerusalem, 1978), pp. 356ff. See my Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 115, about the legend of Maimonides' visit to France. See also Otzar ha-Geonim: Hagigah, p. 16, where we are told of the well known "fact" that R. Natronai Gaon magically came from Babylonia to Spain and then returned home.

ודבר ברור ומפורסם לאנשי ספרד ומסורת בידם מאבותיהם כי מר רב נטרונאי גאון זצ"ל בקפיצת הדרך בא אליהם מבבל וריבץ תורה וחזר, וכי לא הלך בשיירא ולא נראה בדרך

[19] Gershom Scholem, Sabbatai Sevi: The Mystical Messiah, trans. R. J. Zwi Werblowsky (Princeton, 1973), pp. 698-699.

[20] Scholem, Sabbatai Sevi, p. 926 n. 270.

[21] See Scholem, Mehkerei Shabtaut (Tel Aviv, 1991), p. 251.

[22] See Avraham Ya’ari, Ta’alumat Sefer (Jerusalem, 1954), p. 10.

[23] Kitvei ha-Rav Dr. Yosef ha-Levi Seliger (Jerusalem, 1930), p. 503. The last section of this book, where the quoted comment appears, has been deleted (censored?) on Otzar ha-Hokhmah. It can be found in full on hebrewbooks.org.

[24] (Jerusalem, 2014), p. 378.

[25] Gadol ha-Neheneh mi-Yegio (n.p., 2012), pp. 93-94. The three periods at the end of the quotation appear in the original.

[26] Yabia Omer, vol. 2, Orah Hayyim, no. 18.

[27] See Abir ha-Ro’im, vol. 2, p. 134.

[28] Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 14, p. 186.

[29] Iggerot Moshe, Hoshen Mishpat 2, p. 300.

[30] Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 14, p. 186.

ומגוחח {צ"ל ומגוחך] הוא לפרש כוונתו ולומר דלשון יש צד להקל הוא כאומר שיותר צדדים איכא לאיסור

[31] Somewhat parallel to this is R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach’s view that when R. Moses Isserles write ויש מחמירין it actually means that he doesn’t accept the stringency, since if he did he would have written .ויש אוסרין See Havot Yair, no. 185.

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A Note Regarding Rav Simcha Zelig Reguer’s Position on Opening a Refrigerator on Shabbat

November 5, 2015, 7:52 am

≫ Next: נוסח סליחות אשכנזי מודפס ארבע עשרה בלתי ידוע

≪ Previous: Assorted Comments on R. Jacob Emden, Ashkenazic Views of Sephardic Gedolim, and More

A Note Regarding Rav Simcha Zelig Reguer’s Position on Opening a Refrigerator on Shabbat

By Yaacov Sasson

The purpose of this note is to correct an error that appeared in a widely-read journal nearly 25 years ago; the error is of sufficient consequence that it necessitates a correction, even after so many years.

In their article, "The Use of Electricity on Shabbat and Yom Tov", by Rabbis Michael Broyde and Howard Jachter (Journal of Halacha and Contemporary Society, No. XXI, Spring 1991), the authors cite Rav Simcha Zelig Reguer, the Dayan of Brisk, as having permitted opening a refrigerator on Shabbat when the light inside will go on, based on the principle of psik reisha d'lo nicha lei. It is also claimed that Rav Simcha Zelig "states that the light in the refrigerator provides no benefit to the one opening the door." (See footnote 59 there.[1])

The authors then assert that classifying this action as psik reisha d'lo nicha lei"appears to be entirely incorrect", because the light serves as a convenience and is useful for finding items in the refrigerator.

Lo hayu dvarim me-olam. Rav Simcha Zelig did not permit opening a refrigerator when the light inside will go on. Rav Simcha Zelig wrote (Hapardes 1934, num. 3, page 6) that it is permitted to open the refrigerator since the intention is to remove an item, "v’aino mechavein lehadlik et ha-elektri."[2]The authors misinterpreted this statement to be a reference to an electric light in the refrigerator.

However, it is clear from a simple reading of the articles to which Rav Simcha Zelig was responding that the topic under discussion at the time was triggering the motor by opening the door and allowing warm air to enter; lights and light bulbs are not mentioned at all. In the first of those articles (Hapardes 1931, num. 2, page 3), the language of "hadlaka" is used in reference to the refrigerator motor, and Rav Simcha Zelig’s language of "lehadlik et ha-elektri" appears to parallel the language used there.[3]

In the second of those articles (Hapardes 1931, num. 3 page 6), the act of triggering the motor is referred to as "havara" and "havara b'zerem ha-chashmali"[4], and Rav Simcha Zelig used a similar nomenclature, "lehadlik et ha-elektri" to refer to triggering the motor.

Rav Simcha Zelig's position was that it is permitted to open a refrigerator when the motor will then go on, as triggering the motor is classified as a psik reisha d'lo ichpat lei, which is equivalent to lo nicha lei.[5]Rav Simcha Zelig never addressed opening a refrigerator when the light will go on.

I would add two endnotes - when surveying Halachotwith significant practical implications, such as in the realm of Hilchot Shabbat, it is an author's responsibility to ensure that all sources are cited accurately, lest a reader rely on an incorrect citation with the result of ChillulShabbat. Secondly, when confronted with a Halachicposition of a Gadol B'Yisrael that seems to be entirely erroneous, the possibility that the Gadol's position is being misunderstood must be explored.

[1]http://www.aishdas.org/articles/rmjb_electricity1.pdf

[2]http://www.hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=12073&st=&pgnum=8

[3] It is probable, but not absolutely certain, that Rav Simcha Zelig was in possession of Hapardes 1931 number 2 when he wrote this letter. He certainly had 1931 number 3, as obvious from his citation of R’ Moshe Levin on the permissibility of making ice on Shabbat, which appears in number 3. It is likely that Rav Moshe Soloveitchik sent him 1931 number 3 because it contains a presentation of a shiur that Rav Moshe delivered in the name of his son, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, and Rav Moshe no doubt wished to share his son’s chiddushim with Rav Simcha Zelig. 1931 number 2 also contains a presentation of a shiur that Rav Moshe delivered in the name of his son, so it is likely that 1931 number 2 was also one of the three editions of Hapardes that Rav Simcha Zelig received from Rav Moshe.

[4]http://www.hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=12049&st=&pgnum=8

[5] For a more detailed analysis of why triggering the motor would be considered a psik reisha d’lo nicha lei, see Minchat Shlomo (Kama) 10, as well as Minchat Yitzchak 2:16. Rav Eliezer Waldenberg seems to accept this classification of triggering the motor as a psik reisha d’lo nicha lei, in Tzitz Eliezer 8:12.

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נוסח סליחות אשכנזי מודפס ארבע עשרה בלתי ידוע

November 8, 2015, 2:55 pm

≫ Next: Finders Keepers? The Itinerant History of Strashun Library of Vilna, Pt I

≪ Previous: A Note Regarding Rav Simcha Zelig Reguer’s Position on Opening a Refrigerator on Shabbat

נוסח סליחות אשכנזי מודפס ארבע עשרה בלתי ידוע – דוד חיים רוט

לפי פרופ'דניאל גולדשמידט ז"ל,[1]יש שלש עשרה נוסחאות מודפסים של סליחות אשכנזים: אשכנז הכללי (פפד'מ), עלזאס, פיורדא-נירנברג, וורמייזא, פלאס, שוואבין-שוויץ, קוילן, אשכנזים שבאיטליה (כל הנ'ל הם שייכים לנוסח אשכנז המערבי), ליטא, פולין, בהמן, פוזנא, ובית כנסת הישן בפראג (ששייכים למנהג המזרחי).[2],[3]

בדרך כלל, אצל אשכנזים, נהוג לומר סליחות שונות בכל יום, ובכל הנוסחאות הנ"ל, יש סדר שונה לכל יום של ימי אלול וימי התשובה, וכן לשחרית, מוסף, ומנחה של יוהכ'פ.[4]

כדי להבין את מה שמיוחד בספר סליחות שמצאתי בספריה של בית מדרש לרבנים באמריקה, צריכים להבין קצת על מנהגי יהודי איטליה. באיטליה קיימות שלש 'עדות'שנוהגות מנהגים שונים: אשכנזים (שנוהגים מנהג אשכנז המערבי), ספרדים, ובני רומא. כמו שהזכרנו לעיל, יש מנהג מיוחד לסליחות שנהוג (או שהיה נהוג) אצל אשכנזים שבאיטליה (שהיה נהוג אף אצל האשכנזים שביון), אבל מה שמצאתי הוא משהו שונה. ספר סליחות זה, שנדפס בפירנצה ב-1922, הוא "סליחות ללילי אלול וימי תשובה כפי מנהג הקהל הקדוש האשכנזי בעיר פירארא יע'א". אף שפירארא היא עיר באיטליה, נראה שבפירארא לא נהגו לומר סליחות לפי 'מנהג האשכנזים שבאיטליה', אלא לפי מנהג מיוחד שלהם שמצאנו. מנהג זה ייחודי אצל קהילות האשכנזים הנ"ל, שאין בו אלא סדר סליחות אחד, ונראה שאמרוהו בכל יום, ודומה למנהג רוב הספרדים היום שאומרים אותם הסליחות בכל יום[5]. לפי זה, סביר לומר שתופעה זו הגיעה מהשפעת הספרדים שמתגוררים ליד קהילה זו באיטליה, אך גם ייתכן שמשום שמנהגי הסליחות לא נקבעו עד די מאוחר[6]התגבש בצורה שונה במקומות שונים. אי נמי, אפשר להציע שאי פעם קהילת האשכנזים שבפירארא אמרו נוסח קבוע לסליחות שמחולק לפי הימים (או לפי מנהג אשכנזים שבאיטליה או לפי נוסח אחר), ובדורות האחרונים החליטו לקצר, ובזה מובן מה שלא מצאנו נוסח זה אלא בדפוס די מאוחר.[7]

סדר הסליחות כך: מתחילים ב'לך ה'הצדקה'[8]וב'שומע תפילה', ואח'כ אומרים (כמובן עם י"ג מדות בין כל סליחה וסליחה) סליחות 'אנשי אמנה אבדו',[9]'יום ישועה ועת רצון',[10]ופזמון 'ישראל נושע בה'',[11]ואח"כ ממשיכים 'זכור לנו ברית אבות',[12]וידוי, וכמה מהתחנונים שבסוף הסליחות,[13]ואחר כך מופיע הוראה לומר קדיש תתקבל, ומשמע שלא נפלו על פניהם.

(ברשות ספרית בית המדרש לרבנים באמריקה)

[1]הקדמה לסליחות מנהג פולין, עמ' 7; הקדמה לסליחות מנהג ליטא, עמ' 7; הקדמה למחזור ליוהכ"פ, עמ'יג.

[2]בין הנוסחאות שהוא מזכיר, אני יודע בוודאות שחמשה מהם – אשכנז, עלזאס, פולין, ליטא, ובהמן – נהוגים עדיין היום. אינני יודע אם יש היום איזשהו קהילה שנוהגת מנהג פיורדא-נירנברג, שוואבין-שוויץ, אשכנזים שבאיטליה, ובית כנסת הישן בפראג, ואני מניח (לדאבוני) שאין שום קהילה בעולם שנוהגת לפי מנהג וורמייזא, פלאס, קוילן, או פוזנא. אם יש לאף אחד מדע לגבי הנוסחאות שאני מסתפק בהם, אני מעוניין מאוד לדעת על זה.

[3]יש לציין שכל חילוקי הנוסחאות האלה הם לפי חילוקים גיאוגרפיים, ואין שום קשר בין מתנגדים וחסידים, נוסח אשכנז וספרד, וכו', שכן חילוקים אלו קיימו כבר כמה מאות שנים קודם שהחסידים המציאו את 'נוסח ספרד'.

[4]דבר פשוט הוא שבכל הקהילות נאמרו סליחות בכל תפילות היום עד חצי השני של המאה ה-19 (עי'בהקדמה למחזור גולדשמידט יו"כ עמ'יג). וכתב הטור (או"ח תרכ) ש"סליחות ורחמים חובת היום הם", והערוך השלחן (או"ח תרכ,א) צעק ככרוכיא על מנהג הטעות המחודש שלא לומר סליחות, שאין לזה יסוד כלל וכלל.

[5]אך יש לציין שבעבר היו מנהגים ספרדיים לחלק את הסליחות לפי הימים, ואף בימינו יש ספרדים בצפון אפריקה, או יוצאי צפון אפריקה, שעדיין אומרים את הסליחות ע"פ ההחלוקה לימים שבספר שפתי רננות.

[6]מופיע סדר מגובש לסליחות שמסודר לפי הימים כבר במנהגי מהר"ז יענט (תחילת המאה ה-15), והוא זהה למנהג האשכנזים שבאיטליה (ומודפס (עם שיבושים) במנהגי מהר"י טירנא של מכון ירושלים, עמ'קעט ואילך), וכן יש כמה כת"י לפי נוסח זה או נוסח קבוע אחר. אבל מ"מ בהרבה קהילות עדיין לא נתקבלו סדרים כאלה עד תקופת הדפוס,וקודם לכן כל חזן אמר את מבחר הסליחות שבחר בהם, עיין בזה מאמרם של יונה ואברהם פרנקל על מחזור נירנברג here)), ויש לציין שבמחזור נירנברג עצמו יש סדר קבוע לסליחות של ער"ה, צום גדליה, עיו"כ, ולתפילות יו"כ. (תודתי לר'אברהם לוין שעזר עם המדע על כתבי היד.)

[7]אבל קצת קשה להניח שקצרו את נוסח האשכנזים שבאיטליה, שהרי בנוסח זה לא נמצא הסליחה 'איככה אפצה פה' (וגם לא בצורתו המקוצץ), עיין על זה להלן בקטע האחרון ובהערה 10.

[8]כמו בהרבה ממנהגי מנהג המערבי שמתחילים מיד ב'לך ה'הצדקה', ואין אומרים אשרי או אדון עולם קודם.

[9]שמופיע בהרבה נוסחאות סליחות ליום ראשון או לאחד משאר הימים, ויש שאומרים אותו אף באחד מימי בה"ב.

[10]שהוא חלק השני של סליחת 'איככה אפתח פה'בנוסחאות אחרות, אבל לא ייתכן שחסר כאן משהו, שהרי כתוב בתחילה 'א-להנו וא-להי אבותינו', ועוד שיש מספרי עמודים, ולא חסר כאן כלום.

[11]שנאמר ברוב הנוסחאות לאחד מימי הסליחות, וכן לפי כמה מנהגים באחד מימי בה"ב.

[12]כמו בכל מנהגי אשכנז המערבי, אין 'שמע קולינו'.

[13]ונראה שקטעים אלו קטועים, שמיד אחר וידוי (פעם אחת) 'סרנו ממצותיך'ו'הרשענו ופשענו', מופיע 'ואתה רחום מקבל שבים ועל התשובה מראש הבטחתנו ועל התשובה עינינו מיחלות לך: עשה למענך אם לא למענינו עשה למענך והושיענו' [וחסר כל הפס'מנביאים וכתובים, כגון עזרא הסופר אמר לפניך], וקטע עננו ה'עננו הוא גם כן קטוע.

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Finders Keepers? The Itinerant History of Strashun Library of Vilna, Pt I

November 15, 2015, 6:17 pm

≫ Next: Maimonides and Prophecy, R. Pinhas Lintop, R. José Faur, and More Examples of Censorship

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Finders Keepers? The Itinerant History of Strashun Library of Vilna
by Dan Rabinowitz

Since the 1990s, the issue of reparation of items looted by the Nazis has become a high-profile issue, with numerous successful attempts at reuniting owners with their stolen possessions. The recent movie, Monuments Men, fictionalized the Allies’ post-war efforts that led to the locating some of these looted treasures. While some of the best-known examples of these recovered treasures are related to art, gold, or Swiss bank accounts, Hebrew books were also part of the Nazi’s appropriation scheme, and were included in the items recovered after World War II. Some of the books recovered belonged to a unique institution, the first Jewish public library, and tracing the journey of these books, up to present day, parallels that of its patrons, tortured, uncertain, and yet despite all odds, surviving.

Matisyahu Strashun the Library’s Architect and Founder

Matisyahu Strashun[1] was born in 1817 in Vilna. His family was among the Vilna elite. His father, Samuel Strashun (also known as Rashash), whose notes/annotations – he never published a stand-alone work – to numerous classic rabbinic works, including Midrash Raba, Mishna, and Maimonides’ Mishna Torah, and Talmud Bavli.[2] In terms of breadth, the latter are most impressive, as his notes cover nearly every single page[3] of the Talmud Bavli.[4]

Matisyahu too was a Talmudist, his comments to Baba Batra and Eruvin are incorporated into the Vilna edition of Talmud Bavli, and was proficient in the entire corpus of rabbinic literature.[5] Matisyahu espoused views that were consistent with the haskalah movement.[6] For example, Matisyahu supported Max Lilienthal’s controversial attempt to reform “the Jewish educational system within the Pale Settlement,”[7] and Matisyahu help found and financially supported two schools in Vilna aligned with the haskalah.[8] Matisyahu corresponded with leaders of the haskalah movement, Isaac Ber Levinsohn, among others, and Strashun’s articles appeared in both rabbinic as well as haskalah newspapers and journals.[9] And, his home was a salon of sorts for traditionalists and the maskilim of Vilna.[10]

Strashun was independently wealthy and derived his substantial income from commercial and banking activities rather than rabbinic activities. Yet he was considered a leader of the Vilna community. He served on a number of communal institutions including the Vilna Tzedakah Gedolah. And, at his death, he donated over 50,000 rubles to charity (approximately $1 million today). Leading Eastern European rabbis, R. Yitzhak Elchonon Spector and R. Jacob Joseph (later Chief Rabbi of New York) among them, eulogized Strashun.[11]] Posthumously, a street in Vilna was named after him.[12]

Throughout his life, he was an avid book collector, and, at the time of his death, amassed a collection of over 5,700 books and manuscripts.[13] His collection included incunabula, rare and controversial works (e.g. Me’or Eynaim), and manuscripts – from his father in addition to other authors. As reflected in his outlook during his lifetime, Strashun’s collection included rabbinic and haskalah works, and books in non-Hebrew languages.[14]

During Strashun’s lifetime numerous printing houses and bookstores populated Vilna, providing access to most contemporary books, including in languages other than Hebrew.[15] But, unfortunately, we do not have much information regarding how and when Strashun amassed his collection that extended well beyond those contemporary books, beyond that when he travelled he took the opportunity to seek out and purchase books. For example, when he took therapeutic trips to the spa he also took that opportunity to seek out and purchasing books. In addition to Strashun’s spa trips, in 1857 he went on a Rabbinic tour of Eastern Europe and visited R. Shlomo Yehuda Rappaport (Shi”r) in Prague and R. Tzvi Hirsch Chajes.[16] But, R. Rapahel Nathan Rabinowicz, a book dealer and noted book collector, commented after visiting Strashun that while Strashun’s collection was larger than Rabinowicz’s, his collection was richer in rare and older books.[17]

STRASHUN’S COPY OF SHIR’S EREKH MILIM

STRASHUN MARGINALIA TO EREKH MILIM

Creation of the Vilna Jewish Public Library

At his death in 1885, Strashun left no direct heirs. He did, however, provide for the disposition of his library in his will. In the past, those with large libraries had sold or left it to relatives,[18] Strashun elected a novel approach, rather than an individual or individuals he bequeathed his library to the Vilna Jewish community writ large, with instructions to establish a stand-alone public library.[19] His vision for the library was modeled on “the non-Jewish libraries that he saw[20] in the Diaspora.”[21] To that end, Strashun provided not only the books but also the funds to support the creation and sustainment of the library.[22] Immediately the impact of this decision was apparent. At his funeral, among other enumerated good deeds and scholarship mentioned was, “the large library he left after death for the benefit of the community,” and which will “provide a lasting legacy beyond that of any actual blood descendants.”[23]

The creation of a public library out of Strashun’s personal collection was not a swift one, for seven years following Strashun’s death “the books remained under lock and key” and were available only to those with special access.[24] It remained in this state even though there were trustees and enough money to cover its operations.[25] Although the library did not open to the public, the trustees were not idle during this time; and in 1889, published a complete catalog of Strashun’s collection. His collection was comprised of 5,753 items, 63 of which contained marginalia in his hand.[26]

The Library is Open to the Public

In 1892, the Library was finally opened to the public. At the time, however, it remained in Strashun’s home.[27] For years after the library was opened to the public, in legal documents, the listed owner was not the Vilna community but one of the Library’s trustees. Although Strashun’s intent was clear - that the Library belonged to the community and not a trustee or any other individual – the Library’s legal status clouded that directive. In the late 1890s, there was a successful campaign to correct that issue, and the community become the sole owner of the Library, fulfilling Strashun’s wishes regarding ownership.[28]

The Library & Its Impact on the Vilna Community

In 1902, the Library finally moved into a building of its own in the courtyard of the Great Synagogue of Vilna.[29] From this point forward, the Strashun Library would be one of Vilna’s most important institutions.

The Strashun Library was a Jewish public institution and, to fulfill the needs of the public, additional steps were required beyond building and maintaining infrastructure and clarifying ownership. Specifically, although Strashun’s collection was substantial both in terms of size and breadth, it was still the product of one man’s idea of a library. For this reason, Hillel Noach Steinschneider, one of Vilna’s leading scholars and historians, pleaded with the public to donate books and ensure the completeness of the library and fulfill its mission of serving the entire community. He acknowledged that Strashun amassed a very impressive private collection, but that for a public library his collection alone was insufficient because “it is lacking in books for people” whose interests did not align with Strashun’s. That is, a public library is not only a place open for all but also one that provides value for all. Consequently, the library’s composition must reflect the entirety its audience and not a single collector. Apparently, this plea was successful,[30] many Vilna scholars donated their collections to the Library in addition to the general public, and, by the 1930s, the Library had grown to over 35,000 volumes.[31] Additionally, Vilna’s Tzedakah Gedolah organization also provided funds for acquisitions. Books acquired through those funds contain a special stamp or receipt.

The Library was open seven days a week and became the central meeting location for the residents of Vilna.[32] The Library’s visitors were representative of Strashun’s commitment to both traditional and modern ideas and ideals. Patrons included “rabbis and talmudic scholars who were studying responsa and Halakhic works” and who sat side-by-side with the “younger generation who were reading haskalahworks.”[33] When dignitaries came to Vilna, the Strashun library was a waypoint.[34]

The intent was to have Herzl be the first visitor to the Library, however, the Russian government prohibited him appearing at the Library.[35] Other famous Jewish personalities did visit, and signed the guest boo, known as the Golden Book, including Sholem Yankev Abramovitsh (Mendele Mokher Seforim), and Hayim Nachum Bialik, in addition to more traditionalists, R. David Friedman of Karlin, R. Shlomo Ha-kohen, and the Chafetz Chayim.[36] The Library was not only known for its visiting Jewish celebrities, but also for its well-regarded holdings. According to A.J. Heschel, it was the largest public Hebraic library in Eastern Europe reported to hold over 40,000 volumes.[37] On the one hand, the Strashun library was recognized as one of the greatest cultural institution in Eastern Europe, on the other, like so many public institutions, the Library struggled raising sufficient funds throughout the early part of the 20th century, consistently hampering its ability to maintain and build its collections in addition to limiting its public access.[38] But, it would not be funding that led to its demise but the Nazis and their campaign to appropriate Jewish cultural treasures.

The Nazi’s Looting of the Strashun Library

During World War II, Vilna was occupied and controlled first by the Soviets, then the Lithuanian government, the Soviets again, and finally by the Germans.[39] While under Lithuanian and Soviet rule, the Library had its share of challenges, but none of those compared to the Nazi’s systematic campaign to identify, collect, and appropriate important Jewish treasures –specifically books – and, consequently, important libraries. The intent was that these pillaged libraries would supplement the already substantial Judaic holdings of Frankfort City Library.[40] Immediately after the Nazis occupied Vilna, the Strashun Library as Vilna’s “oldest and perhaps most distinguished” library was identified as a target for this campaign.[41]

Less than a month after occupying Vilna, the Nazis “enlisted” the Library’s librarian, Chakil Lunski, who had served in that capacity for over forty years, in addition to others, to select, identify and catalog important books including “the incunabula and mansucripts in the Strashun Library” to be sent back to Germany.[42] Needless to say, Lunski was “distraught” that “he [was] supposed to help remove the treasures from ‘his’ Strashun Library that he protected for 45 years!”[43] Consequently, a number of books from the Strashun Library ended up in Frankfort, Germany.[44]

Post War Efforts to Reclaim Heirless Jewish Property

The Library’s building did not survive the war, but some of its books did.[45] After WWII, the Allies recovered thousands of items the German’s looted, and collected them at the Offenbach Depot outside of Frankfort.[46] Much of what was recovered was likely heirless and the Allies faced with the dilemma of restitution. Initially, the Americans took the position that heirless property should return to the country from which it was looted.[47] This position raised the specter of rare and important Judaica and Hebraica returning to Poland or even Germany. This outcome was unacceptable to many Jews.[48] Some elected to influence the fate of looted heirless books through traditional democratic means, others took matters into their own hands.[49]

Free For All? The Disposition of Other Significant European Libraries

The Strashun Library was by no means the only library identified at the Offenbach depot. There were numerous other libraries, both public and private that ended up at Offenbach, without any clear method of repatriation. This lack of clarity lead to inconsistent results at best. Indeed, first hand accounts of post-war Germany confirm the ad-hoc, doubtful legal grounds and sometimes completely lawless reparation regime in the post-war chaos. In many instances, individuals made many of the decisions regarding disposition with little information and virtually to no oversight.

For example, Solomon B. Freehof, who himself amassed one of the greatest responsa collections in the 20th century, spent time in post-war Germany and encountered heirless property and describes attempts of repatriation. He indicates that half of the heirless Jewish books recovered by the Allies went to the Jewish National and University Library (“JNUL”) at the Hebrew University (now the National Library of Israel),[50] which was “quite right” because some unnamed person or entity had determined “that clearly the [JNUL] should take the place of the vanished Jewish communities of Europe.”[51]

Others agreed with Freehof that the natural repository for heirless books of European origin was the JNUL in Jerusalem. Most notably, Judah Magnes, and the trustees of the JNUL wanted to recover and claim for the JNUL as much heirless Judaica as possible. The JNUL dispatched Gershom Scholem, the eminent Kabbalah scholar and bibliophile, to Europe to locate and return heirless property. He discovered a significant number of important books and manuscripts in the Offenbach Depot and did everything in his power, including employing very underhanded means, to repatriate items to Hebrew University.[52]

Initially, Scholem had a very difficult time securing authorization to even enter Germany and the Offenbach Depot.[53] When he was eventually granted permission to view the contents of the Depot, it was with the explicit condition that he could not remove any items. But, for Scholem, some items proved too enticing.

Scholem identified a number of rare and important books and manuscripts. He was concerned that if the disposition of these items were left to the Allied authorities the items would not end up in Jerusalem, but, instead, at the Jewish Theological Seminary, or some other institution, in the United States. This was unacceptable to Scholem. To facilitate transfer of these items to the JNUL, Scholem colluded with a Jewish American serviceman to smuggle the works out of Offenbach. Scholem placed the collection into five boxes but did not label their contents and provided a fake name on the invoice. The American serviceman personally ensured that the boxes were shipped to Paris, after which they were sent to the JNUL. Eventually the Allies found out about the theft, and demanded the return of the five boxes, even lodging a formal diplomatic complaint. In the end, after much back and forth, the boxes remained at the JNUL.[54]

As germane here, eventually the boxes’ content were cataloged and it was determined that a third of the works were not heirless – their ownership was clear and restitution was possible.[55] Nevertheless, the content of the five boxes were incorporated into the JNUL.

Another example of unilateral ostensive benevolent restitution occurred with the “library of the prestigious Klaus synagogue of Mannheim, [that] ended up with U.S. Army Chaplin, Rabbi Henry Tavel.” Who, “on his own authority . . . shipped it to his alma mater, the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati.”[56]

The Lost & Found: The Strashun Library Post-WWII

The determination regarding the disposition of the Strashun library after the Holocaust was no different from other heirless property, ad hoc and questionable. Lucy Dawidowicz, worked for YIVO before WWII and spent time in Vilna. After WWII, on behalf of the Jewish Distribution Committee after World War II, she went to the Offenbach Depot to assist with identification of heirless books. Prior to coming to Offenbach, she had “promised [herself] that [she] would do [her] best to safeguard the rights of possible owners and heirs.”[57] And, when she came upon some of the remains of the YIVO collection,[58] she “was in a state of exaltation” and in a letter home wrote that she “had ‘a feeling akin to holiness, that [she] was touching something sacred.’”[59]

Dawidowicz also came upon books that she “could identify came from the Strashun Library.” Whereupon she recalled “a strange story” that the head of YIVO, Max Weinreich,[60] had told her “back in 1940.” Weinreich told her that during the brief period of time when the Soviets had returned Vilna to Lithuanian control, YIVO attempted to move its library out of Vilna.[61] And, that “the trustees of the Strashun Library, also fearing for the sake of their library, asked the Vilna YIVO to ship [the Strashun Library] too.” Unfortunately, the shipment never occurred and both libraries remained in Vilna and ultimately plundered by the Nazis.

While the shipment never occurred, in Dawidowicz’s telling the attempted shipment was an irrevocable act with significant implications regarding the Library’s ownership. She inferred that the Strashun trustees request to join the YIVO shipment also implicitly ceded ownership of the Strashun Library to YIVO. Thus, there she had no doubt regarding the proper disposition of the Strashun Library. Based entirely upon the “strange story” she heard, and even though according to her retelling the Strashun trustees had only intended YIVO to act as a shipper,[62] Dawidowicz told the Director of the Offenbach Depot that the heirless “remains of the Strashun Library ought to be considered as YIVO property.” She appealed to the Allied authorities and her position carried the day and the remnants of Strashun Library went to YIVO in New York.[63]

In a recent exhibit devoted to YIVO’s Strashun collection, the issue of the Strashun Library’s provenance is not discussed in any detail. Instead, the book accompanying the exhibit simply states that all the remnants of the Strashun Library “were rescued from the ruins of Europe and brought back to YIVO in New York in 1947.”[64] YIVO’s library catalog again implies that allthe recovered books went to YIVO and links the disposition of the Strashun Library with that of YIVO’s, the provenance note explains that “[t]he Strashun Collection, along with the YIVO Vilna collections, were liberated by the American Army, and re-repatriated to YIVO in New York in April 1947.”[65]

In reality, not all the remaining Strashun books went to YIVO, nor did everyone agree with the determination that YIVO was the rightful heir of the Strashun Library.

To be continued in Pt. II...

[1]For biographical information and sources see Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, (Jerusalem: Hotsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1953), 47-48 and n.79.

[2]A complete bibliography of his works, both published and unpublished, appears in Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, (Jerusalem: Hotsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1953), 45-46. Rashash’s comments on Rambam were printed in Mekorei Rambam, first published in 1870 in Vilna, and while not a true stand alone work, Rashash’s comments appear alone, without the Rambam’s text. See Mekorei ha-Rambam, Harkavy ed., (Jersualem, Hatsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1957, Im ha-Madurah, and p. 59.

[3]For a list of the handful of pages he omitted, see Rafael Katzenellenbogen,Rash”sh le-Shitato, in Mekori Ha-Rambam Le-Rash”sh, ed. Harkavy, (Jerusalem, 1957), 64.

[4] For general biographical details on the Strashun family, see Frida Shor, From “Likute Shoshanim” to “The Paper Brigade” The Story of the Strashun Library in Vilna, (Tel Aviv: Ariel, 2012), 15-28, and the sources cited therein. See also Shua Engelman, “Rabbi Samuel Strashun and his Haggahot on the Babylonian Talmud,” (PhD dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2009; Hebrew); regarding Samuel’s Talmudic annotations as compared to others, see Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, Chapters in the History of the Jewish Book, Scholars & their Annotations (Ramat-Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2005), 421-22. Cf. Mordechai Zalkin, “Samuel and Mattiyahu Strashun: Between Tradition and Innovation,” in Mattiyahu Strashun, 1817-1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector, (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), 6-7.

[5]Moshe Shimon Anktokolski, Evel Kaved, infra n.12, 23.

[6] Mordechai Zalkin, “Samuel and Mattityahu Strashun: Between Tradition and Innovation,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), 1-27. Samuel has made a very small number of comments that can be read to be consistent with ideas of the haskalah, but these do not approach Matisyahu’s active involvement with the movement, including his very public support of the movement. Additionally, it is unclear if Samuel’s comments are simply limited to their specific context.

Indeed, the examples Zalkin provides regarding Samuel’s alignment with haskalah do no support Zalkin’s thesis. Id. at 25 n.10. First, Zalkin, cites Strashun’s comment in Gitten 6b, that “we find many amora’im who did not know how to read scripture” as proof of his “unorthodox” views. But we find a similar statement from the medieval period. See Tosefot, Bava Batra, 113a. Zalkin’s second citation is to Rashas’s comments, Rosh ha-Shana 26a, “certain things that were uttered in a particular time and particular place are inserted by editors of the Talmud in their appropriate location in the text.” This misrepresents the Rashash. Rashash is attempting to answer how the Talmudic sage, Levi, was unaware of an explicit verse as the TB in RH 26a implies. Rashash explains that although there is no explicit mention of the time or place that this story occurred, Rashash posits that the story in Rosh Hashana occured at the same time as another story with Levi, Yevamot 105a, where he had a moment of senility. Rashash is not offering his opinion regarding the redaction of the Talmud, instead he is merely dating the story in Rosh ha-Shana. Finally, it is unclear the relevance of Zalkin’s third example, “you will find many contradictions between different locations is (sic) Rashi’s text.” Locating and alleging contradictions in Rashi is hardly remarkable.

[7] Zalkin, id., at 15.

[8]Shalom Pludermacher, Zikaron le-Hakham: Zeh Sefer Tolodot ha-Rav ha-Go’an, he-Hakham ha-Kollel Rabbi Matitayahu Strashun Z’L, in Mattiyahu Strashun, Matat-Ya, Haghot, Hidushim ve-He’arot Me’irot ‘al Midrash Raba Pri Eito Shel Matityahu Strahsun, (Vilna: The Widow and Brothers Romm, 1893), 15.

[9] A partial bibliography of Strashun’s articles appears in his Sefer Matat Yah (Vilna, 1893), 41-74 (Hebrew), available online here. Reading, and certainly actively participating with, haskalah related newspapers was considered inconsistent with Ultra-Orthodox values and was grounds for expulsion from Volozhin Yeshiva. Shaul Stampfer, The Lithuanian Yeshiva, Revised & Expanded Edition, (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2005), 176.

[10]Aviva Astrinsky, “A Brief History of the Strashun Library,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), i.

[11]Duberosh ben Aleksander Torsh, Me’arat ha-Makhpelah, shnei Hepadim . . ., (Warsaw, 1887), 50.

[12]Moshe Shimon Antokolski, Evel Kaved, (Vilna: be-Defus Avhram Tzvi Katzenellenbogen, 1886), 8; Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, supra n.1, 47. During his lifetime he also donated to public institutions, among them, the yeshivot of Mir and Volozhin. Id. at 24.

[13]Moshe Shimon Antokolski, Evel Kaved, supra n.12, 11.

[14]Mordechai Zalkin, supra n.6, 17-8.

[15]Hagit Cohen, At the Bookseller’s Shop, The Jewish Book Trade in Eastern Europe at the End of the Nineteenth Century, (Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2006), 48-52.

[16]Shalom Pludermacher, Zikaron le-Hakham, 1893), 17. His meetings are reflected in Strashun’s ownership of their works. See Likutei Shoshaim, nos. 386,1024,1178, 2522, 3352, 3650, 3781, 4377, 5399, 5592.

Regarding other well-known Hebrew book collectors and their collections, see Alexander Marx, “Some Jewish Book Collectors,” in his Studies in Jewish History & Booklore, (New York, 1941), 198-237; Cecil Roth, “Famous Jewish Book Collections & Collecztors,” in Essays in Jewish Booklore, (New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1971) 330-35.

[17]“A Collection of Letter from Jewish Scholars to ShZH”H,” in Yad ve-Shem, reprinted in Yeshurun.

[18] David Oppenheimer’s library was the first library that was posthumously sold intact – to the Bodleian Library. See Alexander Marx, “Some Notes on the History of David Oppenheimer’s Library,” Revue des Études Juives 82 [=Israel Lévi Festschrift] (1926): 451-460; Charles Duschinsky, “Rabbi David Oppenheimer: Glimpses of His Life and Activity, Derived from His Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library,” Jewish Quarterly Review 20:3 (January 1930): 217-247; Alexander Marx, “The History of David Oppenheimer’s Library,” in Studies in Jewish History and Booklore (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1944), 238-255; and more recently in Joshua Teplitsky, “Between Court Jew and Jewish Court: David Oppenheim, The Prague Rabbinate, and Eighteenth-Century Jewish Political Culture (PhD dissertation, New York University, 2012); and Abraham Schischa, “Rabbinic Writings from the Collection of Rabbi David Oppenheim,” Yeshurun 31 (2014): 781-794 (Hebrew).

For other significant personal Hebrew libraries and their purchasing history, see Binyamin Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts: A Treasured Legacy (Clevland/Jerusalem: Ofeq Institute, 1990) 66-67.

[19]For earlier examples of private libraries see Nehemya Allony, The Jewish Library in the Middle Ages, Book Lists from the Cairo Genizah (Jerusalem: Ben-Zvi Institute, 2006); S.D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society (Berkley: University of California Press, 1967), vol. II, 206, 248; vol. V 3-4, 425.

[20] It is unclear whether Strashun meant this literally because while the 19th century witnessed the modern period of the public library, there were not any public libraries in Eastern Europe during Strashun’s lifetime.

[21] Shor, supra n. 4, at 26.

[22] Sefer Matat Yah, supra n. 9, at 35, listing Strashun’s bequests.

[23]Moshe Shimon Anktokolski, Evel Kaved, supra n.12, 17.

[24]Among those who had access during this time was Ya’akov Wallensky. During this time, Wallensky was writing his supplement to Piskei Teshuvot on Yoreh De’ah. Piskei Teshuvot itself is a collection of obscure and rare works discussing issues appearing in Yoreh De’ah. Because Wallensky’s materials were even more obscure and rare, the only place he could access these was the Strashun Library. Ya’akov Wallensky, Daltei Teshuva, (Vilna, 1890), Introduction, 5-6, (link).

[25] Shor, supra n. 4, at 29

[26] Cf. Aviva Astrinsky, “A Brief History of the Strashun Library,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), iii, who provides that his collection was only comprised of 5,739 items.

[27] Shor, supra n. 4, at 29. Regarding the conflicting reports of the Library’s locations during this period, see id., n.71.

[28] Shor, supra n.4, 32-3.

[29] While the Library moved to the new building in 1901, and its dedication ceremony occurred on April 14, 1902, it would not be until October 20, 1902 that the Library secured the necessary governmental permits to fully open to the public. See Shor at 34-35. The government license is reproduced in Layer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 2, (New York: Laureate Press, 1974), 346.

[30] Frida Shor, supra n.4, 51-65,174-87. See Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” in Zevi Scharfstein, ed., Hebrew Education and Culture in Europe Between the Two World Wars (New York: Ogen Publishing House of Histadrut HaIvrit BeAmerica, 1957), 513 (Hebrew), who discusses the varied subject matter of the Library’s collection.

[31] Id.

[32] According to one account, the Library had over 200 patrons daily, but only 100 seats, forcing people to share chairs and encounter waits of over a half-hour just to enter the Library. Id. at 513.

[33] Ben Tzion Dinur, “Yerushalim de-Lita,” in Layzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 1 (New York: Laureate Press, 1974), XVI; but see the English translation of Dinur’s article that comingles the two groups and has boththe Orthodox and younger generation studying “respona or modern Hebrew novels.” Id. at XX. It is unclear what accounts for this discrepancy in translation.

Lucy S. Dawidwowicz, From That Place And Time, A Memoir 1938-1947, (New York: Bantam Books, 1991), 119, provides a remarkably similar account to Dinur’s (“On any day you could see, seated at the two long tables in the reading room, venerable long-bearded men, wearing hats, studying Talmudic texts, elbow to elbow with bareheaded young men and even young women, bare-armed sometimes on warm days, studying their texts. The old men would sometimes mutter and grumble about what the world had come to. The young people would titter.”).

For a breakdown of the Library’s readership by type (i.e. students, academics and public intellectuals, workers, etc.), see Berger, supra n. 28, 514-15.

[34] See Shor, supra n. 4, 174, see also the description of David Wolfson’s Vilna visit, Israel Klausner, “The Zionist Movement in Lithuania,” in Yahdut Lita (Tel Aviv: Am Hasefer Publishers, 1950), 522 (Hebrew). For a photo of one such visit, see Layzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 2 (New York: Laureate Press, 1974), 416.

[35] Shor, supra n. 4,174-75.

[36] Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” at 519; Shor, MeLekutei, supra n. 4, 169; Khaykl Lunski in Yeshurin’s ‫ווילנע (New York, 1935 – in Yiddish), p. 286-7

[37] Abraham Joshua Heschel, “Yerushalim de-Lita,” in Ran, Jerusalem, vol. I, XVII; David E. Fishman, The Rise of Modern Yiddish Culture (Pittsburgh, PA, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005), 143, provides that the holdings of the Strashun Library prior to the Holocaust was comprised of “some forty thousand volumes.”

[38] See Shor, MeLekutei, 38-9; 42 (discussing a 1926 public appeal that the Library undertook where it described its financial condition as “dire and catastrophic”); id. at 43 (“The Strashun Library underwent many difficult financial periods throughout the nineteen years of Polish rule (10/9/1920- 9/19/1939). But, it continued to major Vilna cultural institution.”).

[39] Shor, MeLekutei, 44-7.

[40]Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna and the Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage,” in Lost Libraries, The Destruction of Great Book Collections Since Antiquity, ed. James Raven (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 220-22.

[41]Id. at 223 & 224 discussing other Vilna Libraries that were targeted by the Nazis. See also Dov Schidorsky, Burning Scrolls and Flying Letters (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2008), 165-201; David E. Fishman, The Rise of Modern Yiddish Culture (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005), 141-44; Frida Shor, supra n.4, 189-200.

[42]Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 224.

[43]Id. at 226.

[44] Berger, “The Strashun Library of Vilna,” at 517. The books that were not deemed important we pulped or used as heating fuel. Schidorsky, supra 39, 182. The exact date of when the Strashun Library was transferred to Germany is unclear; however, it was some date after April 1943. See David E. Fishman, supra n.39,173 n.9. Similarly unclear is the exact number of books that were sent to Frankfort. Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 228. But, according to Aviva Astrinsky, “almost all of the Strashun books were crated and shipped by rail to Germany. Aviva Astrinsky, “Mattitayahu (Mathis) Strashun,” supra n.24, i.

[45] See Ran, Jerusalem, vol II, 522, for a photo of post-war building. For a discussion regarding the numbers of books that survived from the Strashun Library, see Frida Shor, supra n.4, 204-05.

[46]Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 225, listing the countries and libraries who books were deposited at the Offenbach Depot. Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 229-32.

[47]Lisa Moses Leff, The Archive Thief: The Man who Salvaged French Jewish History in the Wake of the Holocaust (United States: Oxford University Press, 2015), 121.

[48]Id. at 124-30, 136-40.

[49]Id.

[50] Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 233, provides the numbers and location of heirless books returned by the Jewish Culture Reconstruction. For a listing of U.S. institutions that received heirless cultural property from the Offenbach Depot, see Herman Dicker, Of Learning and Libraries, The Seminary Library at One Hundred, (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary, 1988), Appendix B. See also F.J. Hoogewoud, The Nazi Looting of Books and its American ‘Antithesis’. Selected Pictures from the Offenbach Archival Depot’s Photographic History and Its Supplement,” Studia Rosenthaliana 26:1-2 (1992): 158-192; and F.J. Hoogewoud, “Dutch Jewish Ex Libris found among looted books in the Offenbach Archival Depot (1946),” in Chaya Brasz and Yosef Kaplan, eds., Dutch Jews as Perceived by Themselves and by Others (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 247-261.

[51] Solomon B. Freehof, On the Collecting of Jewish Books, (New York, NY: Society of Jewish Bibliophiles, [196-]), 17; regarding the books that Hebrew University received, and its efforts to locate and claim heirless works throughout Europe through its Otzrot Ha-Goleh committee, see Shlomo Shunami, About Libraries and Librarianship, (Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1969), 56-65; Zvi Baras, A Century of Books, The Jewish National & University Library 1892-1992, (Jerusalem: Jewish National & Univ. Library,1992), nos. 94-101; Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 212-91.

[52]Dov Schidorsky, supra n. 39, 250-51.

[53]Id. at 248-50. According to Scholem, Abraham Ya’ari, Scholem’s partner on behalf of Hebrew University and its Goleh ha-Otzrot program, returned to Israel, in part, because of the difficultly in securing the necessary authorizations to enter Germany. Id. 248; 351.

[54]Id. at 250-51.

[55]Id. at 251 n.51.

[56] See Druker, Of Learning and Libraries, 58. Druker, however, concludes that Tavel’s unilateral decision “resulted in no real harm.” One wonders if any surviving heirs who had legal claims to the Manheim collection would reach the same conclusion.

[57] Lucy S. Dawidwowicz, From That Place And Time, A Memoir 1938-1947, (New York: Bantam Books,1991), 314-16.

[58]See David E. Fishman, supra n.39, 143-53 174 n.20, discussing the YIVO Library under the Nazis and its ultimate transfer to YIVO in New York.

[59] Id.at 318.

[60]For more information regarding Weinreich and YIVO, see id. at 126-39.

[61] Id.; for a fuller treatment of this attempt see Shor, From ‘“Likute Shoshanim”, 44.

[62] Aside from Dawidowicz’s telling, according to the documents that discuss YIVO’s efforts to save its library and the Strashun and the Lithuanian government’s response throughout this attempt, the Strashun Library is described as a Vilna communitylibrary and not the property of one institution or another. See Shor, From “Likutei Shoshanim”, at 44.

[63]Her argument has the perverse effect that the trustees attempt to save the library immediately resulted in completely losing control of the library.

[64] Aviva E. Astrinsky, Mattistyahu Strashun 1817-1885, Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector, YIVO, New York: 2001, ii, iv. But, Astrinsky also indicates that YIVO recovered “a substantial part of the Strashun Library.” Id.at i. According to YIVO’s website, however, YIVO only received part of the Strashun Library and the remainder “were transferred to the library of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. (link). Similarly, Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” p. 517 claims that part of the Strashun Library went to YIVO and the other part to Hebrew University.

Beyond these unsupported statements, there is no evidence that any books from the Strashun Library were sent to the JNUL. While the JNUL’s post-war efforts at obtaining heirless books are well documented, see supra, there is no mention of the Strashun Library. Similarly, the JNUL catalog does not list any items whose provenance extends to the Strashun Library. It is possible that YIVO and Berger confused the JNUL with the Jerusalem Central Library discussed below. Or simply conflated the Strashun Library with the numerous other European libraries that the JNUL successfully rescued.

[65] See, e.g., the YIVO catalog entry for Solomon Adret’s Hidushe Nidah leha-Rashba, Altona, [1737].

↧

Maimonides and Prophecy, R. Pinhas Lintop, R. José Faur, and More Examples of Censorship

November 21, 2015, 4:39 pm

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Maimonides and Prophecy, R. Pinhas Lintop, R. José Faur, and More Examples of Censorship

by Marc B. Shapiro

1. In my last post here I discussed whether Maimonides believed that the entire people of Israel experienced prophecy at Mt. Sinai. I neglected to refer to Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 8:3, which states:

לפי שנבואת משה רבנו אינה על פי האותות כדי שנערוך אותות זה לאותות זה, אלא בעינינו ראינוה ובאזנינו שמענוה כמו ששמע הוא

This is one of those passages that presents problems for the interpreter, since what Maimonides says in the Mishneh Torah, that all Israel experienced prophecy as Moses did, is contradicted by what he says in the Guide. As is to be expected, R. Kafih takes note of this problem in his commentary to Yesodei ha-Torah 8:3 (p. 165 n. 13), and what he says is fascinating. Commenting on the passage I quoted above, R. Kafih writes:

הדברים אמורים כאן על דרך ההטפה, אבל ברור בדעת רבנו שכל אחד שמע כפי רמתו, וכמשפט כל חזון, ועיין מו"נ ח"ב סוף פ'לב, ופ'לג, שם הביא לשון חז"ל במכילתא שמות יט כט משה מחיצה בפני עצמה ואהרן מחיצה בפני עצמה.

What R. Kafih is saying is that Maimonides’ words in the Mishneh Torah, that all Israel “saw and heard[1] with [its] own eyes and ears as he did,” should be understood as rhetoric, designed to have an effect on the reader, but they do not reflect Maimonides’ actual view which is that all of Israel did not see and hear as Moses did.

Regarding this issue, see also R. Kafih's commentary to Guide 2:33, n. 5, where he writes:

לאו לדיוקא נקטה לא למין ההשראה באופן כללי, ולא לסוגיה

Further discussion of this matter, where R. Kafih elaborates on what he only hinted at elsewhere, can be found in his She'elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rivad (Jerusalem, 2009), nos. 24-26, where he explains to R. Mazuz what Maimonides had in mind.

In previous writings (books, articles, and posts), I have called attention to many examples where Maimonides writes things that he does not actually believe, so what we have just seen is nothing new. The significance of the example I have mentioned is that R. Kafih accepts this approach as a valid method of explaining a formulation of Maimonides in the Mishneh Torah. For another example from R. Kafih, see his note to Guide 2:45 (p. 268), where he writes:

וברור כי רבנו אמר את הדברים כאן על דרך הדרש וההטפה שדרך המטיף לגדיל ולהפריז בענין.

In Ketavim, vol. 2, p. 619, R. Kafih writes:

אמנם כתב הרמב"ם מה שכתב באיגרת תימן כדי להרתיע את מאמיני משיח השוא, וכדי להשקיט לבות החוככים אם להימין ואם להשמאיל. אבל באמת לא כן עמו.

2. R. Bezalel Naor’s translation of Orot is back in print. This time it is published with the Hebrew text as well. For those who don’t know this work, it is a masterpiece of translation. The introduction and notes are also fantastic. When people ask me what to read to get a sense of R. Kook’s thought and the conflicts it created, one of the things I always recommend is Naor’s introduction to Orot.

On the subject of Naor, I would like to call attention to another work of his which did not get the exposure it deserves. In 2013 he published Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, which focuses on the interesting figure R. Pinhas Lintop, rav of the hasidic (Habad) community of Birzh, Lithuania. R. Lintop was unusual among Lithuanian rabbis in that he intensively studied Kabbalah. He was also a supporter of the Mizrachi movement.[2]

Here is his picture.

Those who want to see a picture of his recently discovered tombstone can go here.

Anyone interested in Lithuanian rabbinic thought should examine Kana’uteh de-Pinhas. Among other things, it includes previously unknown letters from R. Lintop to the Chafetz Chaim and R. Kook. It also includes chapters by Naor on aspects of the philosophy of Habad, R. Tzadok, and R. Solomon Elyashiv.

Naor calls attention to R. Lintop’s view of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles. Unfortunately, I did not know of this when I wrote my book on the subject. R. Lintop is no fan of Maimonides’ concept of dogma or of Maimonides’ intellectualism in general. He rejects the notion that otherwise pious Jews can be condemned as heretics merely because they don’t accept Maimonides’ principles. He even makes the incredible statement that of the great rabbis, virtually all of them have, at the very least, been in doubt about one fundamental principle.

הנה לא הניח בן לאברהם . . . כמעט אין אחד מראשי חכמינו, החכמים הצדיקים כו'כו', אשר לא יטעה או יסתפק באחד משרשי הדת

Are we to regard them all as heretics? Obviously not, which in R. Lintop’s mind shows the futility of Maimonides’ theological exercise, which not only turned Judaism into a religion of catechism, but also indoctrinated people to believe that one who does not affirm certain dogmas is to be persecuted. According to R. Lintop, this is a complete divergence from the talmudic perspective.[3]

R. Lintop further states that there is no point in dealing with supposed principles of faith that are not explicit in the Talmud.[4]

הגידה נא, אחי, בלא משוא פנים, היש לנו עוד פנים לדון על דבר עקרים ויסודות את אשר לא נזכרו לנו בהדיא במשנה וגמרא?

As for Maimonides’ view that one who is mistaken when it comes to principles of faith is worse than one who actually commits even the worst sins, R. Lintop declares that “this view is very foreign to the spirit of the sages of the Talmud, who did not know philosophy.” As is to be expected, he also cites Rabad’s comment that people greater than Maimonides were mistaken when it came to the matter of God’s incorporeality.[5]

As part of his criticism of Maimonides and the Jewish philosophers in general, R. Lintop writes, in words similar to those earlier used by Samuel David Luzzatto:[6]

קרבו לנו דעות רבות נכריות וגיירו אותם עד כי היו לאמהות בישראל וגרשו את אמנו האמיתית

In his Pithei Shearim[7] R. Lintop criticizes Maimonides’ view, Hilkhot Melakhim 8:10, that given the power Jews must force non-Jews to adopt the Noahide laws. According to R. Lintop, this command only applied to the seven nations that inhabited ancient Canaan, but does not apply to any other non-Jew, even those living in the Land of Israel. Throughout his discussion, R. Lintop shows a strong moral sense and it is this which leads him to disagree with Maimonides. As he states:

אין הקב"ה מקפח שכר כל בריה

As for those non-Jews who don’t observe the Noahide laws (referring in particular to the commandment against avodah zarah), R. Lintop sees them as blameless as they don’t know any better, having been born into their cultures.[8]

Among other things, I was surprised to see R. Lintop write:[9]

הגאון המשכיל הנפלא בספרו בשמים ראש רנ"ב בשם אחד מהראשונים

He assumes that Besamim Rosh preserves authentic medieval responsa and yet he also recognizes that the publisher Saul Berlin was a maskil. This is significant since as far as I know, everyone else who believes Besamim Rosh to be authentic has no idea who Saul Berlin was.

Many who have heard of R. Lintop know of his correspondence with R. Kook and assume that they shared the same outlook. This is actually not the case, and in a letter to R. Yaakov Moshe Harlap R. Lintop said as much himself.[10]

כבודו הולך בזה ממש בדרך התחי'שהולך ידי"נ הגאון מוהרא"י קוק במאמריו וספריו, והנה אמנם יש לי הרבה לדבר בזה כי אינני מהמסכימים לדרכיו, ורבות פלפלתי עמו בזה. הוא חושב כי אהבתינו הגדולה היא מפני השתוות דעותינו, ואני השבתיו כי להיפך מפני אי השתוות דעותינו אנו שואפים אחד להתמלאות מחבירו.

In 2013 the fourth volume of Reuven Dessler’s Shenot Dor va-Dor appeared. This volume contains two lengthy letters from R. Lintop to R. Kook (pp. 414-437). R. Lintop does not hesitate to criticize R. Kook’s understanding of hasidut. One of his criticisms is particularly noteworthy (pp. 435-436). R. Kook had written about how Hasidism is based on the idea of ahavat Yisrael for both the collective and the individual. R. Lintop replies that this is incorrect, as hasidut is not based on ahavat Yisrael but on ahavat avodat Yisrael and ahavat avodat ha-hasidut.

Then comes the following incredible passage, incredible since R. Lintop was at the time serving as rav of a Habad community and was generally quite connected to Habad philosophy, although he himself was not a Habad hasid. Some readers might see this as a purely academic type of statement, but anyone who knows the thought of R. Lintop will realize that this is, if not actually criticism, certainly disappointment with some of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady’s statements.

הכי נוכל לחשוב את חסידות מורנו ורבנו אדמו"ר הזקן לחסידות אהבת ישראל אחרי הניח ליסוד מוסד באגרת הקודש (בתניא ח"ב) וז"ל לא זו הדרך ישכן אור להיות חפץ בחיי בשרים ובני ומזוני כו'וראשית הכל שישמח האדם ויגל בכל עת ובכל שעה ויחיה ממש באמונתו כו'ומי שעצב ומתאונן מראה בעצמו שיש לו רע ויסורין וחסר לו איזה טובה והרי זה ככופר ח"ו כו'ומי שאין שוין לו מראה בעצמו שהוא מערב רב דלגרמייהו עבדין כו'וע"כ הוא חפץ בחיי בשרים ובני ומזוני . . . בפ'כ"ד מספר התניא משריש כי האדם העובר על רצון ה'אפי'עבירה קלה מד"ס הוא בהתכלית הפירוד מיחודו ואחדותו ית'יותר מס"א וקליפה הנקראה אלהים אחרים ויותר מבהמה טמאה שקצים ורמשים (ובאגרת הקודש מג פוסק שכל העובר על ד"ס אפי'באיסור קל של דבריהם חייב מיתה כעובר על חמורות שבתורה והדברים נוראים. גם בא ופוסק להלכה בספרי [!] אורח חיים [צ"ל חושן משפט] חלק ו'הלכות נזקי גוף ונפש ט'ישראל שעומד ברשעו תמיד כגון רועה בהמה דקה כו'וכן כל כיוצא בהם אין כישראל דתם הוציאם מכלל ישראל ורחוק הדבר מאהבת ישראל הכללי.

There are many Habad adherents who read this blog and maybe some of them will want to weigh in on this.

Since, in the passage just quoted, R. Lintop cites the Tanya, let me share something interesting that appears in R. Mazuz’s recently published Asaf ha-Mazkir, p. 558. He mentions having heard that mitnagdim made fun of the Tanya since it begins as follows:

תניא משביעים אותו תהי צדיק ואל תהי רשע ואפילו כל העולם כולו אומרים לך צדיק אתה היה בעיניך כרשע

This comes from Niddah 30b and is stated by R. Simlai. The reason for the mitnagdim’s mocking is that R. Simlai was an amora so therefore the term תניא, which begins R. Shneur Zalman’s work, is inappropriate, as this term is used to introduce a baraita. (R. Mazuz argues that contrary to popular belief R. Simlai was a tanna, yet this is impossible.)

Finally, R. Isaac Nissenbaum tells us that R. Lintop was not a fan of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch.[11] (I wish I knew of this source earlier so I could have included it in my forthcoming article – already with the publisher – on Orthodox responses to Hirsch):

[הוא] הניא אותי מלהמשך אחרי "החורב"של רבי שמשון רפאל הירש, באמרו: "היהדות האמתית היא יהדות התורה ולא יהדות הרגש. היהדות תתקיים בתלמידי חכמים ולא ברגשנים דתיים. . ."

Just as I was finishing this post, a new book by Naor appeared entitled Mahol la-Tzaddikim. It focuses on the controversy between R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto and R. Eizik of Homel regarding the purpose of creation.

3. In my new book I give examples of passages that were not translated properly, or not translated at all. After reading the book, Joel Wolowelsky sent me an edition of Birkat ha-Mazon, first published in 1946 (i.e., right after the Holocaust). The translation is by Rabbi Chaim Brecher, who is mentioned in my book in another context. Brecher’s edition of Birkat ha-Mazon actually became quite popular and was reprinted many times. In fact, the bentchers handed out at my own bar mitzvah were reprints of this edition.

At the beginning of Birkat ha-Mazon for weekdays, Psalm 137 (Al Naharot Bavel) appears (although almost no one says this). The final verse of this psalm reads:

אשרי שיאחז ונפץ את עלליך אל הסלע

A proper translation of this verse is: “Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy [the Babylonians’] little ones against the rocks.”

I think it is fair to say that in modern times most people would be uncomfortable with the feeling expressed here. That explains the false translation of the verse provided by Brecher: “He will be as joyous as were you when you dashed our little ones against the stones.”

Was it a general humanistic feeling that impelled this false translation or was it the impact of the Holocaust that was responsible? In other words, with the then recent murder of so many Jewish children, perhaps it was not thought proper to give publicity to a verse that spoke of killing children of another people. Whatever the reason, it is obvious that this is an intentionally false rendering of the verse.

Regarding my book, let me also note the following:

Pp. 38-39. I wrote that there are no Ashkenazic siddurim, even those published in the State of Israel, that have an uncensored version of Birkat ha-Minim in the Amidah. As people know, I was working on this book for many years, and when I originally wrote this sentence it was correct (or so I believe). However, by the time the book appeared it was no longer correct. Rabbi Barry Gelman called my attention to the fact that in 2012 a nusach Ashkenaz siddur appeared without the censored text. Here it is.

Over the summer I was in Vienna and learnt that a couple of years ago Rabbi Schlomo Hofmeister, one of the community rabbis of Vienna, published Siddur Tefilat Yeshurun, and this siddur also includes an uncensored text of Birkat ha-Minim. I had never before seen this siddur, and what led me look at its version of Birkat ha-Minim were the following words that appear on the title page:

כמנהג בני אשכנז ללא שיבושי הצנזורה ושינויי המשכילים והמדקדקים המאוחרים

P. 55 n. 34: I somehow missed the fact that Esther Farbstein, Be-Seter Ra’am, pp. 614-616 n. 92, indeed discusses the story of the 93 Bais Yaakov girls committing suicide in Cracow. She also shows the fictional character of the story. (Thanks to R. Yaakov Taubes for calling this to my attention.)

P. 83: I refer to a responsum by R. Samuel Aboab who states that the words minhag shel shetut regarding kapparot were added by the printer. My language was not precise as this comment is not found in a responsum of Aboab but is quoted in Aboab’s name in a responsum of his student, R. Samson Morpurgo, referred to on p. 83 n. 11.

p. 131 n. 45: I report Derek Taylor’s claim that Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz once attended a non-Jewish event without a head covering. I also note that Taylor does not provide documentation of this claim. Rabbi Dr. Benjamin Elton, who has recently been appointed rabbi of the prestigious Great Synagogue of Sydney, called my attention to this photograph in which Hertz is not wearing a kippah (source).

This was not even a non-Jewish event, but a lunch sponsored by the Polish-Jewish Refugee Fund. Hertz is also wearing a clerical collar.

Here is another picture of Hertz without a kippah (source).

Here he is wearing a kippah (source).

The men sitting behind him with the clerical collars are not Anglican priests. As you can see they too are wearing kippot. This is how Jewish “men of the cloth” used to dress in England. In this picture Hertz also has a clerical collar.

On p. 138 n. 64 I write that this photo from the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s student file at the University of Berlin[12] recently had a kippah placed on it.

The picture I referred to is the following, from R. Abraham Weingort, ed., Haggadah Shel Pesah al Pi Ba’al ha-Seridei Esh (Jerusalem, 2014), p. 53.

Regarding my discussion of the German Orthodox practice of not wearing a kippah, only after my book was in press did I read the memoir of the rabbinic scholar R. Shmuel Weingarten.[13] Weingarten describes coming to the Berlin home of R. Meier Hildesheimer and finding him and two other men drinking coffee with uncovered heads. Only when the Hungarian Weingarten entered the room did they pull their kippot out of their pockets and place them on their heads.

There is one more interesting text I would like to call people’s attention to. In R. Judah ben R. Asher, Zikhron Yehudah, no. 20, we see that R. Judah was asked if it is permitted to learn Torah with an uncovered head. R. Judah replied that it is not proper to do so, but his language makes it clear that there is no prohibition in this. He also adds that sometimes the heat will be such that one may feel unable to keep his head covered.

וטוב הוא שלא לישב בגילוי הראש בשעת הלימוד למי שיוכל לסבול לפי שילמוד יותר באימה ולפעמים מפני כובד החום אינו יכול לסבול

In R. Judah’s day they did not have small kippot like we have. It is obvious that the head covering was a significant item and when removed the man would be bareheaded.

In R. Azriel Hildesheimer’s responsa[14] the publisher included a note from Hildesheimer that informs us that in a copy of R. Judah ben R. Asher’s responsa (from the edition published in Berlin, 1846), there is a handwritten comment to the responsum just discussed. The author of the comment is described as הגאב"ד but it is not known whom this refers to. Alongside the words quoted above, that one who can bear the heat should cover his head, the unknown גאב"ד wrote:

לשון זה הוסיפו המגלים ראש ובכ"י כתוב בזה"ל: וטוב שלא לישב בגלוי הראש בשעת הלימוד כדי שישב באימה יותר ולפעמים מפני כובד החום נראה להקל. כבר נהגתי בעצמי לישב בכובע של פשתן דק כקופוצא בעתות החום לצאת ידי כולם

The Hebrew passage just quoted begins by stating that the comment in Zikhron Yehudah that one can take off one’s head covering if it is hot was added by “those who are bareheaded”.[15] This is followed by a quotation from the manuscript in which R. Judah says that on hot days he would sit with a lighter head-covering than normal. However, even this version has the language וטוב שלא לישב בגלוי ראש which also implies that there is no prohibition to be bareheaded during Torah study. This manuscript also has ולפעמים מפני כובד החום נראה להקל, which implies that one can be completely bareheaded if it is hot, to which it then adds that R. Judah himself did not sit bareheaded but wore a lighter head-covering. I therefore don’t see any substantial difference between the two versions of the responsum, yet the unnamed גאב"ד did see a problem with the first version and assumed that the text had been tampered with by a heretic.

In many prior posts I have discussed the assumption that heretics altered manuscripts (most recently in my posts regarding ArtScroll’s censorship of Rashbam). The example I have just given is one of the first where a rabbinic figure makes this argument about a halakhic text.[16] I have to say that in all of the numerous cases where modern rabbis claim that medieval texts written by great rabbinic figures have been altered by heretics, there is not even one instance where they make a compelling argument. Their approach is always along the line of, “This position goes against what we know to be true, so Rabbi X couldn’t have said it.” In this case there are actually two manuscripts in existence, and the words of one are exactly what we find it in the printed version of Zikhron Yehudah, while the other has the text mentioned by the גאב"ד.[17]

P. 218: I wrote that even a circumcised non-Jew is referred to as an arel. I was asked what my source for this is. I did not need to provide a source for my statement in the book, as it is a basic fact, and can be confirmed by looking in dictionaries. However, for those who want a rabbinic source see Mishnah Nedarim 3:11:

קונם שאיני נהנה לערלים מותר בערלי ישראל ואסור במולי עובדי כוכבים. קונם שאיני נהנה למולים אסור בערלי ישראל ומותר במולי עובדי כוכבים שלא היתה הערלה קרויה אלא לשמם שנאמר כי כל הגוים ערלים וכל בית ישראל ערלי לב

This Mishnah is explicit that even circumcised non-Jews are referred to as arelim.[18]

I would like to thank all those who have sent comments about my book. Only a small amount can be posted but I do try respond to all emails. I believe that I have mentioned all of the corrections. I hope that R. Menahem Lonzano would regard me as one of the ישרים בלבותם, for he wrote:[19]

הישרים בלבותם יאהבו החולק עליהם בדעת וישנאו העוזרם בלי דעת

4. In Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox I discussed the dispute over R. José Faur. I also published a letter in support of Faur by R. Jacob Kassin (who would later retract this support). It is well known that R. Faur’s greatest backer was R. Matloub Abadi, an important figure in the Syrian community and author of the halakhic work Magen Ba'adi. R. Abadi is mentioned in this regard by R. Kassin, in the letter of R. Kassin that I published in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox. Here are two additional documents relevant to this matter. The first one is a 1966 letter from R. Abadi in praise of R. Faur.[20] I transcribed the document but was unable to make out some of the words.

The second document is a 1969 letter from R. Abadi to Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim defending R. Faur. I found this document in the R. Nissim archive at Yad ha-Rav Nissim in Jerusalem. Together with the letter is a note that provides the following identifications.

ר"פ נ"י = R. José Faur

אויבו ורודפו = Rabbi Abraham Hecht

יוסף בן א' = R. Yosef Harari-Raful (יוסף בן אהרן)

One more point about R. Faur that is worth noting is that he was such a close student of R. Aaron Kotler that he was one of the people chosen to carry R. Kotler’s coffin at his funeral.[21]

I have many more interesting documents that have never before appeared in print. I hope to publish some of them in future posts.

5. Let me share another example of censorship. It comes from a recently published book (too recent to be included in Changing the Immutable).

R. Joseph Messas has a passage, now famous among the Orthodox feminists, in which he refers to an unnamed book that mentions that in Spain there were places with women’s prayer groups at which each woman wore a tallit and some wore tefillin. It appears in his Nahalat Avot (Haifa, 1980), vol. 5:2, p. 268.

In 2015 the multi-volume set of Nahalat Avot was reprinted in Jerusalem. Take a look at the following page and you will see that the passage dealing with the women’s prayer groups has been deleted in its entirety.

Unlike Ashkenazic internal censorship of this sort, Sephardic censorship is a relatively new phenomenon (only a few decades old). Here is another example. R. Isaac Abraham Solomon’s book Akim et Yitzhak was published in Baghdad in 1910. On pages 112b-113a he rejects a position of the recently deceased R. Joseph Hayyim, the Ben Ish Hai.

R. Solomon appears to even cast doubt on R. Joseph Hayyim’s integrity when he writes:

וקי"ל ת"ח שאמר מילתא לאחר מעשה אין שומעים לו להחזיק דבריו

This book was reprinted in 1971, and here is how the pages look.

R. Eliyahu Sheetrit reports that R. Ovadiah Yosef was upset with this censorship and annoyed that the publisher thought that he could do as he wished with someone else’s book.[22]

6. There has been a lot written about the murder of Eitam and Na’ama Henkin הי"ד. There has even been a song dedicated to them. See here. Quite apart from the incredible family and personal tragedy, the murder of Eitam is a tragedy for the world of Torah and scholarship. I was planning on writing about this, but people who knew Eitam much better than I have already spoken and I don’t have much I could add to their moving words. I would only note that the amount of significant material published by Eitam is astounding, and I learnt so much from him, both from his printed work and from the many emails we exchanged. It is hard to think of anyone who accomplished so much in so short a period of time. I encourage all who can read Hebrew to examine his website here where many of his writings are found.

In my post here I posted this picture of the grave of R. Joseph Elijah Henkin’s son, Hayyim Shimi, which Eitam kindly sent me.

Someone asked me about the name שימי. We all know this as a nickname for שמעון but this is not something that you would put on a tombstone. I inquired about this from Eitam and here is his reply

אכן השם שלו היה חיים שימי, ואין זה קיצור חיבה של 'שמעון' (כמובן לא היו עושים כן על מצבה). הוא נקרא כך, למיטב ידיעתי, על שם סבתו (אם-אמו, חותנתו של הרב הענקין) שימא קריינדל, שנפטרה כשנה וחצי לפני הולדתו.

פעם שאל אותי חסיד אחד, מילא לקרוא לבן ע"ש בת אינו חידוש ומצאנו כן במעלה הדורות, אבל להמציא בשביל זה שם חדש, היכן מצאנו דבר כזה אצל שלומי אמוני ישראל?! והשבתי לו, אולי הגמרא לא מלאה ברב שימי בר אבין [צ"ל אשי] וכיו"ב?

In the post I wrote: “It is noteworthy that R. Henkin saw fit to mention on the tombstone that Hayyim was a student at Yeshiva College (= Yeshivat R. Yitzhak Elhanan).” R. Elazar Meir Teitz correctly pointed out that when Hayyim Shimi (or did they pronounce it “Simi”?) died in 1927, there wasn’t yet a Yeshiva College. This was only established in 1928.[23] However, R. Henkin’s other two sons did attend Yeshiva College.

Eitam also called the following to my attention. In R. Yitzhak Dadon’s Athalta Hi, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 339,[24] this picture appears.

The rabbi on the right is identified as R. Shlomo Goren and the one on the left as R. Dovid Lifshitz. While the one on the right does look like R. Goren, it is actually R. Lifshitz (a fact confirmed to me by Dr. Chaim Waxman, R. Lifshitz’s son-in-law). Eitam informed me that the one on the left is R. Moshe Margolin, the secretary of Ezras Torah. Why did Dadon assume that the rabbi on the left was R. Dovid Lifshitz? He must have seen this photo somewhere with R. Lifshitz identified as appearing in it, and since he assumed that the man on the right was R. Goren, he concluded that the one on the left must be R. Lifshitz.

7. In recent weeks there has been a good deal of outrage after the appearance of an article in Mishpachah that appealed to the Palestinians not to kill haredim since they don’t go on the Temple Mount.[25] There is also an effort underway, supposedly authorized by the Edah Haredit, to publicize the same message in Arabic newspapers. See here. With this in mind, readers should examine the following document, which is found in the Central Zionist Archives S25/4752.[26]

It is a copy of a letter sent to the Supreme Muslim Council in Jerusalem from Aryeh Leib Weissfish. Weissfish was later to become famous as one of the leaders of the Neturei Karta, and strangely enough he was also a great fan of Nietzsche. You can read about his colorful career here, where it mentions how he illegally entered Jordan in 1951 to bring a message from the Neturei Karta that Jordan should invade Jerusalem and the Neturei Karta would be its ally in this. When he was deported to Israel he was put on trial and sentenced to six months in prison.

In view of the fact that there was a fear that Germany would invade the Land of Israel and that this would also lead to the Arabs persecuting Jews, Weissfish wrote to let the Muslim leaders know that the Old Yishuv type of Jews that he is speaking about are not involved in politics and oppose the Zionists. They have always treated the Arabs with respect and he therefore requests that these Jews be protected. He also offers to provide the names of the families who should be given this special treatment. As you can see from Yitzhak Ben-Zvi’s handwritten note at the bottom of the letter, Ben-Zvi copied this from the original letter which he found in the Supreme Muslim Council’s archives.

8. Information about my summer 2016 tours to Central Europe, Italy, Spain, and Germany will soon be available on the Torah in Motion website here.

9. For those who do not own Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, you might be interested in knowing that Amazon is now offering it at a 36% discount ($15.92). See here

[1] This refers to the revelation at Sinai. The Touger translation of the Mishneh Torah mistakenly explains that these words refer to Moses’ “appointment as a prophet.”

[2] See Y. L. Fishman, Sefer ha-Mizrachi (Jerusalem, 1946), p. 120.

[3] Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, p. 75. When an earlier work of Lintop is quoted in Naor, Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, I have referred to the latter.

[4] Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, p. 75.

[5] Yalkut Avnei Emunat Yisrael, pp. 66-67.

[6] Yalkut Avnei Emunat Yisrael, p. 99

[7] (Vilna, 1881), pp. 14a-b.

[8] Pithei Shearim, p. 14b.

[9] Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, p. 78.

[10] Hed Harim (Jerusalem, 1953), pp. 30-31.

[11] Iggerot ha-Rav Nissenbaum (Jerusalem, 1956), p. 260 n. 7.

[12] The picture first appeared in Shaul Shimon Deutsch, Larger than Life (New York, 1997), vol. 2, p. 204.

[13] Perurim mi-Shulhanam shel Gedolei Yisrael (Jerusalem, 2004). The passage referred to is on p. 95.

[14] She’elot u-Teshuvot Rabbi Azriel: Even ha-Ezer, Hoshen Mishpat (Tel Aviv, 1976), no. 253.

[15] Eric Zimmer refers to this comment in his “Men’s Headcovering: The Metamorphosis of This Practice,” in J. J. Schacter, ed., Reverence, Righteousness, and Rahamanut (Northvale, N.J., 1992), p. 331 n. 28: “Hildesheimer claims that Reform Jews who advocated bareheadedness tampered with the original text in order to justify their own.” There are a couple of problems with Zimmer’s formulation. First, Hildesheimer does not make any claim. He simply reports what the גאב"ד wrote. Second, there is no mention of Reform Jews. The reference might be to them but it could also refer to maskilim. I assume that the quotation from Zimmer is missing a final word and what it means to say is that they “tampered with the original text in order to justify their own behavior”?

[16] Regarding aggadic texts, we find a number of earlier examples. One well-known instance is R. Samuel Jaffe’s comment about the “Midrash” that in the future pig will become permitted:

למה נקרא שמו חזיר מפני שעתיד להחזירו לישראל

R. Jaffe writes (Yefeh Toar: Va-Yikra Rabbah 13:3, p. 78b):

לפי דעתי לא היה ולא נברא . . . היה מי שהיה רוצה להתחכם ממציא איזה מאמ' [מאמר] שיפור' [שיפורש] בו פי'הלציי והיה תולה אותו מאיזה מהמדרשי'הרחוקים להמצא ביד כל אדם

[17] See R. Avraham Yosef Havatzelet, “Limud be-Rosh Meguleh – Ha-Omnam Ziyuf bi-Ketav Yad?” Yeshurun 7 (2000), pp. 735-738, and the note in the Makhon Yerushalayim edition of Zikhron Yehudah, no. 20.

[18] See also Da’at Mikra: Yirmiyahu, to Jeremiah 9:25, and R. Ratzon Arusi, Ha-Torah ve-Halikhot Ameinu (Kiryat Ono, 1998), vol. 1, p. 27 (second pagination).

[19] Shetei Yadot (Venice, 1618 ), p. 81.

[20] I thank R. Moshe Shamah for providing me with this document.

[21] After having heard this report, I confirmed its accuracy with R. Faur.

[22] Sheetrit, Rabbenu (Jerusalem, 2014), p. 203.

[23] See Jeffrey S. Gurock, The Men and Women of Yeshiva (New York, 1988), p. 94.

[24] In volume 1 there is a chapter on R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg in which the author makes great use of Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakob Weinberg. I jokingly tell people that I like Athalta Hi because the author refers to me as המו"ל שליט"א. See ibid., vol. 1, p. 259.

[25] See here for R. Eliyahu Zini’s statement that the editors of Mishpachah have lost their share in the World to Come. Regarding the Temple Mount, there is a shocking statement in the geonic era Pitron Torah, ed. Urbach (Jerusalem, 1978), p. 339.

שגם היום הזה אותם האנשים שהבית בידם עשו אותו בית עבודה ומובחר ומעולה ומכובד, ואותה העבודה כך אמר שנעבד לא-ל אחד, שברא שמים וארץ ולו בריות, לכך אמ'כל היום, עד ביאת מורה צדק ויום העתיד ואותו היום תתחדש בו עבודת הצדקה ותהיה מקובלת לפני ש-די

Rather than being upset at seeing the Muslims in charge of the Temple Mount, Pitron Torah seems to see this as a good thing that will last until the messianic era..This passage was noted by Daniel J. Lasker, "Tradition and Innovation in Maimonides' Attitude toward Other Religions," in Jay Harris, ed., Maimonides After 800 Years (Cambridge, MA., 2007), p. 182. As I noted in Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, p. 151, Pitron Torah, p. 241, contains the earliest recorded Jewish use of the term משוגע with regard to Muhammad.

Ron C. Kiener claims that the following passage in Zohar Hadash 27d is referring to Muslim control of the Temple Mount. Its view is exactly the opposite of what we saw in Pitron Torah:

אבנא אבנא אבנא קדישא עילאה על כל עלמא בקדושתא דמארך זמיני בני עממיא לאתזלזלא בך ולאותבא גולמי מסאבין עלך לסאבא אתרך קדישא וכל מסאבין יקרבון בך ווי לעלמא בההוא זמנא

Oh stone, oh stone! Oh holy stone, greater in the world in the holiness of your Master. In future times the nations will humiliate you and place upon you defiled objects, defiling your holy place. And all the defiled ones will come unto you. Woe to the world at that time!

Translation by Kiener, "The Image of Islam in the Zohar," Mehkerei Yerushalayim be-Mahashevet Yisrael 8 (1989), p. 51.

[26] Many years ago I saw a reference to this letter in a book, but I can no longer remember where.

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Announcement - Lecture by Rabbi Yechiel Goldhaber at the Sprecher home

November 25, 2015, 1:25 pm

≫ Next: Lunch and Learn with Rav Yechiel Goldhaber on Thursday 12/3/15 at 1:00 PM

≪ Previous: Maimonides and Prophecy, R. Pinhas Lintop, R. José Faur, and More Examples of Censorship

The readership of the Seforim Blog is invited to a shiur that will be taking place Sunday November 29 at 8:00 PM. The shiur will be given by the noted scholar and author Rav Yechiel Goldhaber of Eretz Yisroel (link). He has authored many wonderful articles and works on a wide range of topics most notably Minhagei Kehilos about customs, and Kunditon (link) about the Titanic, and the Cherem on Spain.

The subject of the Shiur is על חרדים ויום השואה, and it will include fascinating information from newly unearthed documents.

It will take place in Brooklyn at the home of Dr. and Mrs. Shlomo Sprecher, at 1274 East 23rd Street.

↧

Lunch and Learn with Rav Yechiel Goldhaber on Thursday 12/3/15 at 1:00 PM

December 2, 2015, 10:59 am

≫ Next: An Obscure Diagram in the Bomberg Shas

≪ Previous: Announcement - Lecture by Rabbi Yechiel Goldhaber at the Sprecher home

The readership of the Seforim Blog is invited to a “Lunch and Learn” that will be taking place Thursday, December 3 from 1:00 – 2:00 PM. The shiur will be given by the noted scholar and author Rav Yechiel Goldhaber of Eretz Yisrael (link). He has written many wonderful articles and works on a wide range of topics most notably Minhagei Kehilos about customs, and Kunditon (link) about the Titanic, and the Cherem on Spain.

The Shiur will take place at 919 Third Avenue New York, NY.

Because of the security policies of the building, if you are interested in attending you must RSVP to yhalpert@debevoise.com by Thursday morning (tomorrow) so that you can be registered at the front desk. Picture ID will also necessary to enter the building.

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An Obscure Diagram in the Bomberg Shas

December 8, 2015, 4:47 pm

≫ Next: Screen for the Spirit, Garment for the Soul

≪ Previous: Lunch and Learn with Rav Yechiel Goldhaber on Thursday 12/3/15 at 1:00 PM

An Obscure Diagram in the Bomberg Shas

By Eli Genauer

A recent book auction by Kestenbaum featured the following listing:

AUCTION 65: JUNE 25TH, 2015
LOT: 111 (TALMUD, BABYLONIAN). Masechta Sotah. With commentaries by Rashi, Tosaphoth, Maimonides and Rabbeinu Asher. FIRST BOMBERG EDITION .. ……Vinograd, Venice 27; Habermann, Bomberg 22.

Daniel Bomberg, Venice: 1520.
This Tractate contains the only appearance of a printed text illustration throughout the entire Talmud issued by Bomberg (see f. 43r).

The reference to ( see f.43r ) indicates that this singular printed diagram in the Bomberg Shas appears on Daf 43A in Sotah.

It is a diagram of the configuration of trees in a particular orchard and it looks like this

We find other instances of a Bomberg edition of tractate Sotah being offered for sale, and they contain the same basic information.

Kedem Auctions Auction no. 40 - Books, Manuscripts, Rabbinical LettersWednesday, September 3, 2014 - 17:00Books & ManuscriptsTractate Sotah – Venice, 1520 – Bomberg Printing, First EditionBabylonian Talmud, Tractate Sotah – with Rashi commentary and Tosfot, Piskei Tosfot and Rambam's commentary on the Mishna. Venice, 1520. Printed by Daniel Bomberg, first edition.
On Leaf 43, 1 is an illustrative sketch on Rashi commentary. This is the only printed sketch found in the Bomberg edition of the Talmud. Bomberg left the rest of the places which were designated for sketches and illustrations empty to complete with drawings after printing.

Sotheby’s
Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sotah, Venice: Daniel Bomberg, 1520
17 DECEMBER 2008 | 10:00 AM ESTNEW YORKBabylonian Talmud, Tractate Sotah, Venice: Daniel Bomberg, 1520Folio (13¾ x 9½ in.; 350 x 242 mm.Folio 43r. provides the only example of the inclusion of a printed diagram in the Bomberg Talmud. In all other tractates, Bomberg simply left a blank space in which an individual could insert a diagrammatic drawing.

The source for this information most likely came from “Maamar al Hadfasat HaTalmud” by Raphael Nathan Nata Rabbinovicz. It was first printed in 1868 as a hakdamah to his book Dikdukei Sofrim on Masechet Brachot and later added on to by Rabbinovicz and printed as a separate book.

I refer to this edition: Maamar 'al hadpasat ha-Talmud with Additions, ed. A.M. Habermann, Mossad ha-Rav Kook, Jerusalem: 2006

On page 41, Rabbinowicz, writing about the first Bomberg edition, states as follows

״ובכל התלמוד (וכן בכל הדפוסים הישנים עד דפוס בערמן) נשמטו הציורים בגמרא, רש״י ותוספות,ונשאר מקומם חלק, מלבד בסוטה מג. שישנו הציור ברש״י

In all of the Talmud ( and in all other older printed editions of the Talmud until the Berman edition ( Frankfurt An Der Oder 1697-99) )the diagrams were not included in the Talmud, Rashi and Tosfot, and their space remained empty, except for Sotah 43A, where we find a diagram in Rashi.

He seems to be saying that not only in the Bomberg first edition was this the only diagram included, but also in subsequent Bomberg editions this remained the only diagram included. He even casts a wider net and says that this was the only diagram included in any set of the Talmud until the Berman edition of Frankfurt an Der Oder printed from 1697-1699.

Is this correct? I would have to say it is mostly correct but not completely.

The Israel National Library website contains the following page:

It can be accessed at http://aleph.nli.org.il/nnl/dig/bk_sub.html

It is a wonderful source for early printed books and it contains every tractate of the first edition of the Bomberg Shas. What may a bit less known is that it also contains one tractate of the third edition of the Bomberg Shas, Masechet Zevachim, printed in 1548. (1)

If we look at Daf 53B, we are confronted with the following

A close up of the bottom of the page looks like this

At first I thought that this diagram of the Yesod of the Mizbeach had been drawn in by hand, but an analysis of the difference in the way this page was set up versus the same page in the first two editions lead me to conclude that this diagram was added by the Bomberg editors intentionally and was included as part of the printed page. Aside from that, I had the privilege of looking at this same page in a different copy held by the JTS Library with Sharon Lieberman Mintz, ( JTS Curator of Jewish Art) and she confirmed that this mechanical drawing and the one available online at the NLI website were exactly the same.

If we look at the 1520 edition, we can see the problem that the editors faced

Here is both 53A and 54A

Let’s take a closer look at the bottom of 53B, where the diagram appears in the third edition

After a lengthy explanation by Rashi on the makeup of the Yesod, he adds the word “Kazeh”. It is right at the bottom. Usually, we would find an empty space there, but alas, there is no room.

The empty space where the diagram should go is not on the bottom of 53B, but rather on the top of 54A. It has nothing to do with the Rashi that begins with the word “Retzuah”.

So it is possible that by the third edition of Zevachim, the Bomberg editors decided to fix that. They set the type for 53B in a different manner, allowing them the space for a diagram, and they even included the diagram.

I thought I might find other diagrams in this third Bomberg edition and spent an afternoon at the JTS Library looking through various Masechtot of that edition, but did not find another diagram. As far as I know, this was the only diagram added to the third edition. There is no way to know for sure why the Bomberg editors added this one, just as there is no way to know why the diagram on Sotah 43A was included in the first edition. But at least one can see what might have bothered them here.

[1] I refer to this as the third edition although there is much discussion as to whether this might actually be a fourth edition. For more background on this, please seeMarvin J. Heller, Printing the Talmud (A History of the Early Printed Editions of the Talmud )Im Hasefer, Brooklyn, NY 1992, pages 167-180

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Screen for the Spirit, Garment for the Soul

December 10, 2015, 6:03 am

≫ Next: Toil of the Mind and Heart: A Meditation in Memory of Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine

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Screen for the Spirit, Garment for the Soul

by Josh Rosenfeld

Josh Rosenfeld is the Assistant Rabbi at Lincoln Square Synagogue and on the Judaic Studies Faculty at SAR High School.

This is his third contribution to the Seforim blog. His first essay, on "The Nazir in New York," is available here, and his second essay, “The Princess and I: Academic Kabbalists/Kabbalist Academics,“ is available here.

ב״ה

אור לנר ג׳, חנוכה ה׳תשע״ו

Recent years have witnessed a remarkable trend in the widespread study of Hasidic texts within Orthodox communities that themselves do not self-identify as traditionally Hasidic. Whether in much-discussed Modern Orthodox neo-Hasidic circles or amongst the National-Religious in Israel, Hasidic texts canonical and obscure merit serious teaching, engagement, and even reverence in these communities. One of the earliest expressions of this trend was the introduction of such texts into the curricula of Hesder Yeshivot, and arguably the man most responsible for this was R. Shimon Gershon Rosenberg (Shagar; 1949-2007).

R. Shagar began his career in the Hesder Yeshivot first as a student at Yeshivat Kerem b’Yavneh, eventually returning from the Yom Kippur war to become a popular RaM at Yeshivat Hakotel, even filling in as interim Rosh ha-Yeshiva when R. Yeshayahu Hadari took a sabbatical. R. Shagar, known as a Talmudic prodigy, branched out to both found and direct other institutions on the cutting edge of the National Religious educational framework, such as Beit Midrash Ma’aleh and Beit Morasha, and finally, Yeshivat Siach Yitzchak in Efrat, with his longtime friend and study partner, R. Yair Dreyfuss (1949- ). After a difficult period of suffering, R. Shagar passed away from Pancreatic cancer on June 11, 2007, a month after the announcement of a committee to begin preparing his voluminous writings for publication.

R. Shagar wrote and taught on a level characterized as “extremely deep”, and despite the resurgence of interest and posthumous publications of his writings, a close student of his once told me “it was not always such a great honor to be counted amongst his students.” There was some opposition to some of his ideas, especially those relating to education and Talmud pedagogy.[1] R. Shagar’s writings exhibit a sustained engagement with, in my opinion, three central themes: postmodernism and its challenge to traditional religion, spirituality and faith in the Modern Orthodox and National Religious, and the development of a viable language, a discourse- based upon traditional texts - to think and talk about the aforementioned themes. R. Shagar’s writings are as quick to quote R. Schnuer Zalman of Liadi as Slavoj Zizek, the Slovenian cultural critic and philosopher.

For English speakers, much of R. Shagar’s oeuvre remains a closed book,[2] despite the rapid pace with which new material of his - developed from the reportedly hundreds of files he left behind - is being published, and the resurgence in his popularity in Israel. Despite that, a few articles and introductions to his thought have appeared in English.[3]

What follows is an attempt at translation of an excerpt from one of the most recent of R. Shagar’s works, To Illuminate the Openings (להאיר את הפתחים).[4] The book is primarily a collection of R. Shagar’s discourses on the holiday of Hanukkah, part of the “For This Time” (לזמן הזה) series of R. Shagars derashot on the cycle of Jewish holidays and festivals.[5]

This particular essay, “Screen for the Spirit, Garment for the Soul” is an expansion and presentation of R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi’s[6] phenomenological discourse on the candles of Hanukkah. R. Shagar uses the language of philosophy, Maimonides, and Lacanian psychoanalysis to explain the two religious paths that R. Schneur Zalman sees as represented in the candles, wicks, and flames of Hanukkah. In doing so, a rich tapestry of religious thought is woven, with R. Shagar characteristically bringing such diverse thinkers as the founder of Chabad Hasidism and Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz in conversation with each other.[7]

"Screen for the Spirit, Garment for the Soul”

{A Translation and Annotation of R. Shimon Gershon Rosenberg, “To Illuminate the Openings” (Machon Kitve ha-Rav Shagar: Efrat, 2014), 53-61}[8][9]

כִּי אַתָּה תָּאִיר נֵרִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהַי יַגִּיהַּ חָשְׁכִּי (תהילים י״ח, כט).

כִּי נֵר מִצְוָה וְתוֹרָה אוֹר (משלי ו׳, כג).

נֵר יְהוָה נִשְׁמַת אָדָם (שם כ׳, כז).

The Soul and the Commandment

There is a well-known custom of many Hasidic rabbis on Hanukah to sit by the candles after lighting and to meditate upon them, sometimes for hours. This meditation washes over the spirit and allows the psyche to open up to a whole host of imaginings, gleanings, thoughts, and emotions - that afterward blossom into the ‘words of the living God’, to use the Habad formulation. Therefore, it is instructive for us to look at the physical entity, the elements of the candle and its light as crucial elements in the development of these words of exegesis - the meditation upon the candlelight. For example, in one stage of the discourse of R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi[10] (1745-1812; henceforth, Admor ha-Zaken) that we shall discuss, Admor ha-Zaken distinguishes between two different types of light emanating from the candle: and the fact of the matter is that the candle consists of both the oil and the wick - two types of light: a darkened light directly on the wick, and the clarified white light.[11] This differentiation acts as a springboard for a discourse upon two pathways in religious life. To a certain extent, it is possible to posit that the discourse is the product of the Admor ha-Zaken’s meditation upon the different colors of light in the candle’s flame, and without that, there would be no discourse to speak of.

The motif of the candle and the imaginings it conjures are a frequent theme in scripture and in rabbinic writing - The Mitzvah Candle; Candle of the Soul; The Candle of God - in its wake arise many Hasidic discourses seeking to explain the relationship between ‘The Soul’ [נר נשמה] and ‘The Commandment’ [נר מצוה], and between ‘The Commandment’ and God [נר ה׳]. In our study of the discourse of the Admor ha-Zaken, we will most importantly encounter the tension between the godly and the commanded - the infinitude of the divine as opposed to the borders, limits, and finitude of the system of commandments [תרי״ג מצוות]. However, prior to doing so, we will focus our attention for a moment on the tension between the soul and the commandment - the internal spiritual life of the believer relative to the externalized performance of the commandment.

The emergence of Hasidism brought to the fore the following challenge - does the fact of an increased individual emphasis upon internal spiritual life mean that they will of necessity distance themselves from the practical framework of Halakha? In a different formulation, does the focus of Hasidism upon the ‘soul-candle’ mean that the light of the ‘commandment-candle’ will be dimmed? The tension between the two is clear: one’s obligation to do specific things affixed to specific times stands in opposition to one’s attunement with and attention to their own inner voice. Our own eyes see, and not just in connection with Jewish religious life, but that when one prefers their own personal truth, they do not behave according to the dictates and accepted norms of society at large. For example, one who desires to be ‘more authentic’ may be less polite, as the rules of etiquette are seen as external social constructions that dull one’s inner life. Similarly, for this type of individual, when it comes to Halakha, it will be approached and understood as a system that holds him back from his own truth, and not only that, but it sometimes will be perceived as a lie: from a Halakhic point of view, he must pray at specifically ordained times, but in his heart of hearts he knows that right now his prayers will not be fully sincere - but rather just ‘going through the motions’. Must this individual now answer the external call to prayer, or should they rather hold fast to their inner calling, thereby relaxing the connection to the outer Halakhic reality?[12]

In truth, this question has yet another dimension, within which we may be able to sharpen our understanding - the chasm between objective and subjective experience. Should an individual seek out ‘The Truth’ through their own subjective experience, or should they rather find it in the absolutist objective realm of reality? Once a person apprehends ‘The Truth’ as a construction of their own subjective internal experience, the concept of truth loses its totality and becomes relativized. Truth instead becomes dependent upon one’s specific perspective, their emotions, feelings, and personal experiences. In this sense, Halakha is identified with the absolute and fixed sphere of reality - within which God commanded us, and this type of relativism is untenable in relation to it. (א)

It is possible to argue that the ideal state is when the internal, personal truth is identified with the objective, external truth.[13] The meaning of this situation is that on one hand, the individual’s internal life is strong, on fire, and yet his sense of obligation to this internality is unassailable. This leads to a perspective where the inner life is understood as objective reality, absolute. A person in this type of situation loses their sense of relativity and their inner directives obtain the strength of an outside command, possessing no less force of obligation or truth.

The problem with the situation within which we live is that our inner lives lack strength and force; Our inner lives are prone to ups and downs, steps forward and back. Because of the dullness of our internal lives, they are susceptible to all kinds of outside influences, and thus there is a subsequent lack of authenticity. This is the reason the Shulhan Arukh - not internal spirituality - is the basis for our religious obligations, it is the absolute cornerstone of our lives.

To be sure, divine truth is revealed on a number of different levels and planes in our lives, and it is forbidden for an individual to think that this truth is obtainable only in one dimension - not in the internal or external life alone. An encompassing, total reality takes both lives into account and unifies them - both the internal and external; however, in an incomplete, non-ideal reality, to every dimension and perspective there are benefits and detriments, and we ignore either at our own peril. To this end, our rabbis taught us that we must serve God through both ‘fear’ [יראה] and ‘love’ [אהבה]: and so Hazal said, serve out of fear, serve out of love.'[14]

Admor ha-Zaken

Until now, we have seen the apposition between the mitzvah candle and the neshama candle, to wit - the conflict between the formal Halakhic system and the unmediated spirituality sought by Hasidism. This is a spirituality that has as a central prerequisite the authenticity of action, an authenticity that stands in opposition to the fact that the believer stands commanded to perform certain actions at appointed, limited times. In his discourse for Hanukkah, Admor ha-Zaken deals with yet another tension addressed by Hasidism, especially in the system of Habad Hasidism: What is the connection of physical actions - the performance of the commandments - with the metaphysical, spiritual ‘payoff’ they are supposed to engender, such as an attainment of closeness with God?

Furthermore, the commandments, as they are sensed and experienced through action, are part of the world of tangibility [יש] - the finite and created human reality. Therefore, what connection can these have with faith in the divine infinity? As it appears, the progression of the Admor ha-Zaken is a dialectical approach: one on hand, he presents the commandments in a strictly utilitarian manner without any truly inherent value, but on the other, it is this very groundedness of the commandments in our reality that accords to them their roots in the pure divine will:

It is written: ‘A Mitzvah is a candle and the Torah is Light,’ that the Mitzvot are called ‘candle.’ And it is also written: ‘the candle of God is the soul of Man’, that the soul is called ‘candle’. And in the Zohar it is explained that the Mitzvot are called ‘garments’... and in order to be fully clothed, the soul must fulfill all 613 Mitzvot… and to explain the matter of the soul’s garments… [that]there are boundless illuminations… for there are countless understandings of the light and the glow, which is an emanation of the infinite light of [God] Blessed be He…

The delights that derive from the infinite light, which is the source of all delights, are without end. Just as we perceive with our senses even… physical delights are also without measure, for there are infinite ways to experience pleasure… Because of this, the soul - which is in the aspect of the finite - is unable to fully apprehend the revelation of this glow, which is the very being of the divine, except through a garment - a filter - and through that garment and filter [the soul] is able to receive the light and the glow.[15]

The soul requires ‘garments’, for without these garments and filters, there is no comprehension. I will try to explain what I mean here: for example, when we speak of ‘eternal memory’ [זכרון נצח], are we talking about remembering the content of that person’s life, as if we are recording into a computer a reporter’s notes that are now being entered into the system? Of course that is not what we are referring to. All these moments of a person’s life are ‘garments’, a medium for the realthat occurred in them. This real is not something specific, not a definable factor, but rather is the thing that grants meaning to the content of those experiences, even though it itself is undefinable.[16] Thus, ‘eternal life’ is life that retains with it the meaning of these experiences - something which can never be quantified or simply entered into a computer.[17]

This undefinable thing that grants meaning, the ‘lifeforce’ to everything else, is what Admor ha-Zaken calls the ‘glow of the infinite light’ [זיו מאור אינסוף]. It is not simply ‘meaning’, but rather the ‘meaning of all meaning’. In the discourse before us, as well as in other discourses of his, Admor ha-Zaken draws a line, a parallel, between this glow and the actual substance of delight and pleasure that in our world always appears via a medium, some physical object. Pleasure will never materialize in this world in its pure state - like delight in the earthly realm that always devolves from something outside it, like when we take pleasure in some delicious food or in the study of some wisdom.[18] If so, the commandments are garments through which our world obtains its substance and standing - its meaning. In the language of Admor ha-Zaken, the commandments act as a conduit for the infinite light to penetrate into our world. That is to say, the commandments as an entire system of life form a space within which a person may experience the eros of true meaning. (ב) Through them, an individual may feel alive, that is sensations of satisfaction, excitement, longing, the joy of commandment, and intimacy - all these we may incorporate metonymically into the word ‘light’ or ‘holiness’, that which Admor ha-Zaken would call ‘delight’ or ‘pleasure’.

In order for this light to be apprehended, it must be garbed in the outer trappings of the commandments. This is to say, that the commandments themselves are not the essence of the light and de-light, that they are not the meaningful point of existence, but rather only a garment, that receives its light only by dint of the fact that the subjective experience of holiness and pleasure are felt through it. As Admor ha-Zaken explains in the discourse we are studying: behold, the Mitzvah act… is not the way of the divine infinite light to be infused in them [Mitzvot] unless it is through… the Godly soul itself that performs the Mitzvah, and draws forth through them a revelation of the divine infinite light. As it is written [about Mitzvot]: ‘that the individual shall perform them’ - that it is the individual that makes them into Mitzvot, in drawing forth through them the infinite light.[19]

The Source of The Commandments

To be sure, it is possible to say that any way of life or cultural system is but a garment for the infinite light, for it is this system which bears the weight of the meaning of life and the essence of reality [for its adherents]. An individual experiences life through cultural constructs and the social systems - especially the most critical ones such as love, longing, lower/higher fears, loyalty, etc. - all these things grant to life meaning and purpose, something we wouldn’t trade for anything. Therefore, in Hasidism, recognition of this truth is related to the fact that the world was created through ‘ten utterances’[עשרה מאמרות] - that is to say, even without a specifically religious language, such as the ‘ten statements’[עשרת הדיברות] through which the divine light is revealed. For Admor ha-Zaken’s part, there remains a difference between these systems and the system of the commandments: while it is true that the commandments are a ‘human system’, ideally/from their very inception they are rooted in the infinite reality from which they devolved. At this point, Admor ha-Zaken ceases to see the commandments as merely a garment or tool alone, but rather that they themselves represent constitute a direct encounter with the presence of the divine in our reality. This is to say that the commandments are a system meant to signify and symbolize the infinite itself.[20] They don't simply give expression to it, but direct us to it as well. How do the commandments symbolize? As a system, they point to the divine will itself, for as a closed system, they lack resolution, purpose. One might even say that it is not that we have here a symbol signifying something that we are meant to understand, but rather that the signified is incomprehensibility itself, the ‘void within the void’ [חור שבחור]. In order to understand these things, we must pay attention to the differentiation Admor ha-Zaken makes between ‘the infinite light’ [אור אינסוף] and the ‘essential will of the infinite light’ [עצם רצון אא״ס] :

It is impossible for the essential will of the infinite light to be revealed to any created being, unless that divine will is embodied in some physical act, the performance of the Mitzvah… and the root of the Mitzvot is very lofty, rooted in the uppermost realms of the supernal crown, ‘Keter’... until it devolves into our realm through physical actions and things, Tzitzit and Sukkah, and it is specifically in these things that the divine will is revealed, ‘the final in deed is first in thought’ [סוף מעשה במחשבה תחילה]... In action heaven was [created] first... but in thought physicality came first... for the light is revealed from the aspect of divinity that encompasses all realms... Thus the performance of Mitzvot, whose root lies in this encompassing aspect of divinity - the supernal ‘Keter’ - cannot be expressed below in the aspect of ‘inner light’ [אור פנימי], [in finite and internal experience], but rather must find their expression in exterior, physical actions, as it is well known that that which in its essence is more lofty and elevated falls to the deeper depths.

Therefore, through the performance of Mitzvot, there is created a covering, an encompassing screen, so that through the Mitzvot the [soul] may be able to delight in the delight of the infinite light…[21]

Admor ha-Zaken locates in the commandments a type of dual identity based on the system he constructs: as a garment [לבוש], they are only a vessel through which the infinite divine light finds expression - the delight of the soul, holiness, all that is perceived as the essence of this world. The commandments themselves are not the inner aspect of life but rather a medium for this interiority. On the other hand, Admor ha-Zaken identifies them with the ‘encompassing’ lights [מקיפים]; a reality that cannot be truly apprehended or experienced within ours. This is to say that the root of the commandments are as vessels, conduits of a reality beyond ours - ‘the essential will of the infinite light’. Manifest in this is a classic HaBaD teaching, which Admor ha-Zaken formulates thusly: that which in its essence is more lofty and elevated falls to the deeper depths. We locate the root of the commandments, which in reality are purely utilitarian and without their own essential, inherent meaning, in the very essence and core of the divine.

The claim of Admor ha-Zaken is that the source of the commandments is to be found in the the divine will itself. The meaning of the commandments is not resolved through adhering to some system of rules, some ethical or moral ideal, or some historical-progressive idea through which they were conceived.[22]In the most simple sense, God ‘wanted’ commandments, and through this there developed a system with meaning and sense, which we might call ‘wisdom’ [חכמה], but that system does not fully define the will of the creator, nor is it necessary in the absolute sense. In the aforementioned discourse, Admor ha-Zaken holds that the actual ‘end’ action precedes the thought that somehow explains and gives it meaning, because in truth it is the action, the physical performance of the commandment is affixed to the divine will that warrants it to be done this particular way and no differently - for no humanly discernable reason. This is the way of the divine will, to ‘desire’ without dependence upon any externally motivating factor. One might say that as they [the commandments] are affixed in the divine will, the commandments as such signify a degree of arbitrariness and happenstance.[23] The commandments serve as a reminder of the ultimate unknowability of the divine will that tautologically ‘desires because it desires’. This is also the reason why the commandments primarily take the form of actions and not intentions. As actions, the commandments manifest themselves as closed, sealed objects, their meanings not easily teased out nor defined by the meanings attached to them - ultimately, there is just the [darkness and] light and the delight that we are able to attain through it.

______

Notes:

[1] For example, see “Shnayim Ohazin: A Conversation Between R. Aharon Lichtenstein and R. Shagar”, Shma’atin Journal vol. 136 (Nissan 1998); also appearing in Meimad, Vol. 17, August 1999; see further the synopsis and translation by Rachel Schloss for the Lookstein teacher’s resource archive here; See also questions posed to R. Uri Sherki, a popular National Religious lecturer and teacher on the topic of R. Shagar and postmodernism, here.

[2] Two of R. Shagar’s monographs have been released in English: Chance and Providence (פור היא הגורל), trans. Naftali Moses (Efrat: Yeshivat Siach Yitzchak, 2005), 108 pp. and The Human and the Infinite: Discourses on the Meaning of Penitence (על כפות המנעול), trans. Naftali Moses (Jerusalem: Toby Press, 2010), 88 pp.

[3] To my knowledge, the most extensive study of R. Shagar in English to date has been conducted by Miriam Feldmann Kaye of the Van Leer Institute and Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Dr. Kaye holds a PhD from the University of Haifa, and her doctoral dissertation deals extensively with the encounter of Judaism and postmodernism in the thought of R. Shagar and Tamar Ross. It is forthcoming as Jewish Theology in a Postmodern Age published by The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization [2017]. Kaye’s draft study, “Hasidic Philosophy in the Age of Postmodernism and Relativism: The Case of Rav Shagar” was discussed at the March 2015 Orthodox Forum, “The Contemporary Uses and Forms of Hasidut” chaired by R. Shmuel Hain and R. Shlomo Zuckier. Hopefully Kaye’s fascinating paper will see light in the upcoming volume of in the Orthodox Forum series.

Ilan Fuchs deals, inter alia, with R. Shagar’s perspective on Torah learning for women and Orthodox feminism in Women’s Torah Study: Orthodox Education and Modernity (Routledge press: New York, 2014), 209-220

See Alan Jotkowitz, “And Now the Child Will Ask: The Post-Modern Theology of Rav Shagar,” Tradition 45:2 (2012); R. Yair Dreyfuss, “Torah Study in Contemporary Times: Conservatism or Revolution?”, Tradition 45:2 (2012); Admiel Kosman, “A Letter in Search of a Destination” [review of The Remainder of Faith] in Ha’aretz, 2/27/15, available here; R. Zvi Leshem, “Book Review: B'Torato Yehageh: Limud Gemara Kibakashat Elokim,” available here; Alan Brill has dedicated several fascinating posts to R. Shagar, his thought, and its larger ramifications for Israeli society on his blog, ‘The Book of Doctrines and Opinions’. A good starting point is his discussion of a curious film about R. Shagar produced by the Ma’aleh film school, available here.

[4] l’Ha’ir et ha-Petahim(Efrat: Makhon Kitve ha-Rav Shagar, 2014) 242 pp.

[5] Other volumes that have already been released include In the Shadow of Faith (בצל האמונה) on Sukkot, A Time for Freedom (זמן של חירות) on Passover, and On That Day (ביום ההוא) on Israeli national holidays.

[6] In general, see Roman A. Foxbrunner, Habad: The Hasidism of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady (Jason Aronson, 1993); Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady: The Origins of Chabad Hasidism (Brandeis University Press, 2015); Naftali Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite: The Emergence of the Habad School, (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1990).

[7] R. Shagar is accused of a certain naivete with regard to the possibility and rigor of this type of thinking, see Kosman, idem. and see also the editor’s introduction to R. Shagar, Luhot ve-Shivrei Luhot (Yediot Ahronot, 2013); 407 pp. for a discussion of the autodidactic nature of R. Shagar’s engagement with general philosophy, specifically postmodern thought.

[8] לכב׳ ראש השנה לחסידות יום שיחרור אדמוה״ז זיע״א י״ט כסלו ה׳תשע״ו.

[9] Thanks is due to R. Eli Rubin for his insight and comments.

[10] R. Hershel Schachter once quipped that perhaps the name “Schneur” was a portmanteau of שני אור (= two lights), in the naming after two different people with the name “Meir” - quite appropriate for one who was able to draw such deep meaning from even the two lights within the candle’s flame.

[11] Torah Ohr, Miketz 33a.

[12] A prime example of this would be the controversy surrounding the practice of postponing prayer times. During the formative years of Hasidism, many Hasidic leaders (such as the the Seer of Lublin, The Holy Jew, and The Kotzker Rebbe) held that in order to focus the heart properly for prayer it is permissible to delay the time for prayer, despite violating the clear Halakhic guidelines governing it in the Shulhan Arukh.

[13] Thus we reduce conflict between the soul-life and the practical-life. See further torah no. 33 in Lectures on Likkutei Moharanvol. 1, 295-310; torah no. 6, ad loc., 68.

[14] Commentary of R. Ovadia Bartenura on the Mishnah, Avot 1:3. I will point out, however, that it is basically impossible to impose upon someone a completely external commandment, and so in this way even the ability to follow an external command is a matter of personal prerogative, and therefore related to the realm of personal freedom. This is to say that the internality of a person itself transitions between many different phases - sometimes appearing as the freedom to be unfree/limited and inauthentic.

[15] Torah Ohr, ad loc. 32d.

[16] We must differentiate between ‘sense’ and ‘meaning’ [english in the original; JR]. As we shall soon see, ‘the glow of the infinite’ [that is to say, the ‘spiritual background radiation’, the reflection of the infinite source of light illuminating our moon-world; JR] is what gives ‘sense’ to ‘meaning’ [without it, the slip into nihilism begins; JR]. As long as ‘sense’ is completely attached to the level of content - words, actions, situations - ‘meaning’ becomes the internal, animating force behind these, granting these things spiritual ‘weight’.

[17] There is a touch of autobiography here. R. Shagar worked extensively on notes and files from his oeuvre, hundreds of which were saved on his computer, from which the Institute for the Publication of the Works of R. Shagar compiles, edits, and publishes his voluminous writings posthumously.

[18] R. Schneur Zalman of Liady, Likkutei Torah, addenda to Parshat Vayikra, 52a.

[19] Torah Ohr, ad loc. 33c.

[20] This may be likened to the Lacanian idea of the real. [see Jacques Lacan, Symbol and Language: The Language of the Self (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1956); Dylan Evans, An Introductory Dictionary of Lacanian Psychoanalysis (London: Routledge, 1996), entry: “real”. JR]

[21] Torah Ohr, ad loc. pp. 32d-33a.

[22] The position of the Admor ha-Zaken here parallels in a certain sense the positions of Yeshayahu Leibowitz with regards to the commandments. See further R. Shagar, “Faith and Language According to the Admor ha-Zaken of Habad,” Nehalekh b’Regesh, pp. 175-178.

[23] See R. Shagar, Pur hu ha-Goral; 32-37 (בענ׳ את יעקב אהבתי ואת עשו שנאתי).

↧

Toil of the Mind and Heart: A Meditation in Memory of Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine

December 13, 2015, 2:33 pm

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Toil of the Mind and Heart: A Meditation in Memory of Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine

by Eli Rubin

Rabbi Eli Rubin is a writer and editor at Chabad.org, and works to further intercommunal and interdisciplinary study of Chassidism. Many of his articles can be viewed online here.

This is his first essay at the Seforim blog.

A new anthology mines the oral teachings of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi for new insight into the historical development of his leadership and the crystallization of his ideology, and also charts the impact of Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk on the emergence of Chabad as a distinct Chassidic movement. “HaRav: On the Tanya, Chabad thought, the path, leadership and disciples of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi” ed. Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, Hebrew, 798 pp. (Mechon HaRav, 2015) (link).

In memory of the acclaimed Chabad scholar Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine who passed away one year ago, on the final day of Chanukah, 5775.[1]

Introduction - From Liozna to Liadi

The past few years have seen many new publications shedding light on the life and times of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Chabad school of Chassidism, and making his teachings more accessible.[2]For the most part, however, the historical and the ideological domains have been treated in relative isolation from one another. Moreover, while R. Schneur Zalman’s magnum opus, the Tanya, has been a frequent object of study, less work has been done on the vast corpus of his oral teachings, transcriptions of which now fill some thirty published volumes.[3]

HaRav: On the Tanya, Chabad thought, the path, leadership and disciples of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, appeared just a few months ago as a rather belated marker of the 200th year since Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s passing on the 24th of Tevet 5772 (January 1813),[4]and comprises a collection of articles, teachings and commentary, on the topics referred to in the volume's subtitle. Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, the volume's editor and primary contributor, is a leading Chabad thinker and historian, and the editor of the Heichal HaBesht journal. Other contributors include Chabad scholars Rabbi DovBer Levine, Rabbi Eliyahu Matusof, Rabbi Aharon Chitrik, and le-havdil bein chaim le-chaim,the late Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine.

Of the volume’s six sections, it is the third—Shaar Ha-Maamarim, focusing on R. Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings—that is the most substantial, in terms of both quantity and content. In a loose series of articles, the volume’s editor, Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, takes several important steps towards the integration of the ideological content of these discourses within a broader historiographical context, giving particular attention to Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s relationship with Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk.

An article by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine—in the volume’s penultimate section—traces the impact of Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin on Chabad’s emergence as a distinct school of Chassidism, adding additional dimension to the developing picture.[5]

Grunwald’s overarching thesis pivots on Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s move from Liozna (90km North-West of Smolensk) to Liadi (Lyady, 70km South-West of Smolensk), shortly after being released from his second internment in Petersburg in the summer of 1801.[6] The precise reasons for this move remain unclear, but the distinction between the Liozna and Liadi periods—also referred to as the periods “before Petersburg” and “after Petersburg”—appears in a variety of Chabad historiographic traditions to mark an array of changes in his role as a leader and teacher of Chassidism. As one source has it, “when he dwelt in Liozna the quality of emotion toward G-d radiated from him, whereas afterwards, when he dwelt in Liadi, it was not so; there the quality of intellect radiated from him.”[7]

Grunwald’s discussion of how this shift developed is complicated by Levine’s account. And though their parallel theses are both presented in the present volume, it remains the task of the reader to integrate them.

Transcendence and Interiority

In a 1903 talk delivered by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn (Rashab), the fifth rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, he distinguished between the type of teaching that entirely transcends [מקיף] the students/listeners, but overwhelms, encompasses and transforms them instantaneously, and between the type of teaching that is directed to the interiority [פנימיות] of the students/listeners, to permeate their intellects, so that they can then transform themselves from within:

Before he returned from Petersburg the second time his Chassidic teaching would burn the world, for it was of transcendent quality… there was no one who would hear Chassidic teachings from him and remain in their previous condition. But after Petersburg it changed and it wasn’t so, because then… the Chassidic teachings began to be of internal quality… Through the accusations that were in Petersburg the interiority specifically was revealed…

Before this… the Chassidic teachings were specifically of transcendent quality… which causes very intense inspiration, and such examples are also found in Likutei Torah… But the ultimate intention is the quality of interiority specifically, for with the coming of Moshiach specifically the interiority will be revealed… and the quality and advantage of interiority is achieved specifically through great and extremely immense toil… with service of the mind and the heart…[8]

Here and elsewhere it is clear that the Rashab didn’t simply rely on Chassidic traditions alone, but drew philological insight from his own knowledge of the relevant texts.[9] It is this philological project that Grunwald seeks to expand, and following the Rashab, he rejects the suggestion of other scholars that the teachings of these two periods are primarily distinguished by their relative length.[10] Instead he describes six features that, in his opinion, characterize the teachings of the earlier period. It appears that the most central of these features is the almost exclusive focus on the practical challenge of serving G-d at the highest possible level. Theoretical issues are only mentioned and engaged with to the degree that that they are directly relevant to the specifics of divine worship.[11]

Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s preoccupation with this challenge is clear from Tanya, which began circulating in the early 1790s and was published in 1796. This work, as described in the author’s introduction, is comprised of “answers to many questions, asked in search of counsel… in the service of G-d.”[12] As Grunwald notes, the Tanya is a systematic presentation of the solutions and advice that its author provided in private audiences (yechidut) on an individualized and more immediate basis. “During this period,” Grunwald concludes, “the distinction between private audiences and the oral delivery of Torah was almost non-existent.”[13]

The purpose of the oral teachings during the earlier period, accordingly, was to directly inspire religious transformation by providing practical direction and immediately applicable solutions. They therefore do not digress into involved discussion of complex theoretical questions and abstractions,[14] nor do they linger on the stylistic niceties of orderly progression.[15] Instead they drive directly to the point, emphasizing it with sharp language[16] and vivid imagery,[17] and uncompromisingly demanding utter submission to the exclusive reality of divine being (“ain od milvado”). In the earlier period, Grunwald notes, such Chassidic exhortations “are not complicated by a mantle of explanation or justification, but are [delivered] straight… penetrating the gut.”[18]

In the later period, conversely, Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings were often devoted to the theoretical explanation of a particular concept or issue, or to several related concepts. Here we find detailed and orderly expositions on the nature and purpose of the Torah and the mitzvot generally, or of particular mitzvot and festivals, as well as on complex Kabbalistic ideas. “In the extant discourses [from before Petersburg],” Grunwald writes, “it is almost impossible to find a delivery that is dedicated entirely to the clarification of an aspect of the cosmic chain of being [seder hishtalshalut], in order for it to be understood in depth and in conceptualized form. As a case in point, after Petersburg Rabbi Schneur Zalman delivered a discourse on the topic of ohr ain sof and tzimtzum nearly every year… but before Petersburg we don’t find anything like this at all.”[19]

Grunwald acknowledges that this distinction is a generalization, that in each period one can find anomalies, and that there is far more to say about the development of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings with the passing years. But the distinct and rather rapid change in emphasis is clear enough to demand a broader historiographical explanation. The question is sharpened when we consider that the second part of Tanya, Shaar Ha-yichud Ve-he-emunah, which was circulated and published during the earlier period, does provide a systematic and thorough account of the unity and singularity of divine being, vis-à-vis the created realms. The orderly conceptualization and contemplation of esoteric concepts was already then a fundamental element of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to the service of G-d.[20] (So fundamental, in fact, that—as discussed elsewhere in the present volume—Rabbi Schneur Zalman originally intended Shaar Ha-Yichudto be the first section of Tanya, rather than the second.[21]) Why then do we not find more of this kind of material in the oral teachings dating from this era?

The Making of a Tzaddik[22]

Conventionally, the onset of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership—and the establishment of Chabad as a distinct school of Chassidic thought and practice—is dated to 1783, when he settled in Liozna, or to 1786, when Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk wrote from the Holy Land prevailing upon him “to draw close the hearts of the faithful of Israel, to teach them understanding and knowledge of G-d.”[23] Grunwald, however, argues that throughout the Liozna period Rabbi Schneur Zalman continued to see himself—not as an independent leader of a Chassidic community, nor as a tzaddik in his own right, but rather—as a personal mentor and guide acting as the appointed representative of the Chassidic leaders in the Holy Land.[24]

One source that Grunwald would have done well to cite to strengthen and crystalize this nuanced conception of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s role is a 1786 letter by Rabbi Avraham responding to the complaint of the Chassidic community in the region of Lithuania and Belarus—which, along with Rabbi Menachem Mendel, he continued to lead from afar—that they were unable to hear Torah directly from the mouths of the Tzaddikim in the Holy Land. Rabbi Avraham instructs them to focus less on their desire to hear new wisdom, and more on the practicalities of action:

If only you would place action before hearing, and our sages already said (Avot, Chapter 3) “Anyone whose wisdom is more than their actions etc. [their wisdom will not hold.]” And in my opinion it is tried and tested that too much wisdom is detrimental to action… Commit your eyes and heart to one thing of Chassidic teachings that you have heard, and strengthen it with nails that it should be imprinted and dug into your heart… and due to this you climb and ascend… to exile materiality bit by bit…

And as for action you have a master, our honored friend and beloved, the beloved of G-d, precious light… our teacher the rabbi, Shneur Zalman… filled with the glory of G-d, with spirit, wisdom, understanding and knowledge to show you the path…[25]

Strikingly, Rabbi Avraham encouraged the Chassidic community to turn to Rabbi Schneur Zalman only as a master of “action,” as one who can guide them along the methodological “path” of practical service, but not as an independent tzaddik from whom to “hear” new wisdom.[26] More than a decade later Rabbi Avraham’s opinion “that too much wisdom is detrimental to action” would become a cause of contention between him and Rabbi Schneur Zalman.[27] Yet, even following the passing of Rabbi Menachem Mendel in 1788, and even as the crowds seeking Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s counsel turned Liozna into a bustling Chassidic court, the latter continued to restrict his instruction to the practicalities of actual service of G-d. In his introduction to Tanya too, in the same breath that he emphasizes that its content consists entirely of “answers to many questions, asked in search of advice… in the service of G-d” he continues to emphasize his deference and debt to “our masters in the Holy Land.”[28]

But not all Chassidim in the region were so eager to accept Rabbi Schneur Zalman as their mentor. A strong contingent looked for guidance and inspiration to his contemporary, Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin, who emphasized ecstatic faith and the centrality of the tzaddik, and was famed as a seer and wonderworker. As documented by Levine—following the earlier work of Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor—Karliner loyalists persistently lobbied the tzaddikim in the Holy Land to appoint Rabbi Shlomo in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s place, or to allow them to travel to visit him in Ludmir, Galitzia, where he settled circa 1786. Such agitation was consistently rebuffed, but never entirely quelled.[29] Rabbi Shlomo was shot by marauding cossacks in 1792, and the Karlin legacy was continued by Rabbi Asher of Stolin and Rabbi Mordechai of Lechevitch.[30] Despite the relative peace that reigned during this period, Rabbi Avraham continued to exhort the Chassidim to seek counsel from Rabbi Schneur Zalman alone into the early months of 1797, when he had apparently not yet seen the recently published Tanya.[31]

The period from 1788 to 1797 is described by Grunwald as an intermediate one, in which Rabbi Schneur Zalman came to ever increasing prominence and also crystallized the distinctly systematic approach to the service of G-d presented and published in Tanya. Neither by restricting himself to topics directly related to practical worship, nor by describing himself as a “compiler” (melaket) of a “collection of sayings”—rather than as the author of an independent work of Chassidic thought and instruction—was he able to mask the originality of his approach. No reader of the Tanya can evade the primacy given to intellectual contemplation, to toil of the mind, as the fundamental basis of heartfelt service and actual practice, a primacy that is further underscored by the discussion of divine unity in Shaar Ha-yichud Ve-ha-emunah.[32]

As Levine explains, the crystallization of this systematic methodology to the point of publication was seized by Karliner loyalists as an opportunity to press their case before Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk, eliciting his sharp critique of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s path in a series of letters penned between the latter part of 1797 and the summer of 1798.[33] Paradoxically, it was precisely this critique that led to Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s emergence as a Chassidic leader of a different stripe, and ultimately as an autonomous tzaddik in the fullest sense of the term.

In Grunwald’s words:

Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s two great confrontations, with Rabbi Avraham on the doctrine of Chabad, and with the Lithuanian mitnagdim on the doctrine of Chassidism, transpired and erupted at approximately the same time. The period from 1798 [when he was first arrested and taken to Petersburg on mitnagdic charges of treason] until after the second imprisonment marked the birth pangs that brought forth the shining era of the Chabad doctrine and Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership… It is due to this [difficult] period that we merited the doctrine of Chabad in all its greatness and depth.[34]

According to Grunwald the distinction between the Liozna and Liadi periods is far greater than has previously been understood. Much has been made of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s unwillingness to deal with the worldly concerns (mili de’alma) of his constituents, and of the rules he imposed to regulate the throngs who traveled to Liozna to meet with him and receive spiritual guidance in person (takonat liozna).[35] But according to Grunwald the documentary record attests that these kinds of restrictions were only imposed during the Liozna period, when Rabbi Schneur Zalman insisted that his role was only that of a spiritual guide.[36] In the Liadi period, when he no longer acted as a personal mentor and took on the full responsibility of autonomous leadership, he no longer protested against those who came to him with their worldly concerns, and imposed no regulations on those who wished to come and hear Torah from his lips.[37]

The focus of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership now shifted from the personal to the public, from direct inspiration and methodological instruction, to the coherent formulation, explanation and dissemination of a theoretical edifice accessible enough to be studied, assimilated and acted upon by every aspiring Chassid. It was only after Petersburg that Rabbi Schneur Zalman began delivering oral teachings each and every week, and often several times in a single week. It was in the later period too that new emphasis was placed on the systematic transcription of these teachings not only by Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s brother, Rabbi Yehudah Leib, but also by the former’s sons Rabbi DovBer (the Mitteler Rebbe) and Rabbi Moshe, his grandson Rabbi Menachem Mendel (the Tzemach Tzedek), as well as by noted Chassidim such as Rabbi Pinchas Reitzes. These teachings were not simply instructive or inspirational, each was a new window onto the transcendent philosophy of Chabad, to be carefully preserved, reviewed, studied, assimilated and applied, transforming the Chassid from within.[38]

Cerebral Love

According to Grunwald, the theoretical emphasis that emerged in the Liadi period also constituted a substantial shift in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to prayer, and, more broadly, to the service of G-d with love and awe.[39]

In Tanya, Chapter 16, Rabbi Schneur Zalman distinguishes between love that is revealed openly in one’s heart, “so that one’s heart burns like flaming fire, and desires with heartfelt fervour, longing and yearning,” and love “that is hidden in the mind and concealed in the heart.” Both are the product of mindful contemplation of the greatness of G-d’s infinitude. Both provide the impetus to bind oneself to G-d through the Torah and its commandments. But the former bursts forth as an emotive outpouring of love (hitgalut ha-lev), while the latter remains “enclosed in the mind and the concealment of the heart” (mesuteret be-mocho ve’taalumat libo). Rabbi Schneur Zalman establishes it as “a fundamental rule in the service of ordinary people (beinonim)” that though open love is apparently more ideal, mere mindful animation is “also” acceptable impetus for Torah study and mitzvah performance “since it is this understanding in one’s mind and the concealment of one’s heart that brings you to toil in them.”

In a later teaching Rabbi Schneur Zalman specifically refers to this passage in Tanya, but argues that a more cerebral experience of love is actually preferable, rather than merely acceptable. For one thing, emotional experience is fleeting while cerebral animation achieves a permanently effective transformation. For another, an open experience of ecstatic love may itself be so spiritually satisfying that one will no longer seek to bind oneself to G-d through actual Torah study and practice of the commandments.[40]

Though the text in question bears no date, Grunwald devotes an entire article to a survey of several similar examples, each of which date from the period following the second imprisonment specifically. Yet Grunwald fails to note a fundamental distinction between these two texts: Tanya speaks of an individual whose “intellect and spirit of understanding is insufficient” and consequently suffers from emotional indifference. But the oral teaching he cites clearly addresses an individual who possesses the intellectual and spiritual capacity to experience open love, but is enjoined to use the intellect to exercise emotional disciplinein order to cultivate a more pervading experience of submissive subjugation (bitul) before G-d.[41]

Contrary to Grunwald’s suggestion, this later text does not present a complete reversal of priorities when compared to Tanya.[42]It instead introduces a loftier form of service, through which toil of the heart is further refined rather than abandoned. As Grunwald explains elsewhere, emotional enthusiasm—even when directed towards G-d—is essentially a form of self-expression and self-affirmation, whereas the Chabad ideal is to internalize the recognition that nothing exists other than G-d.[43]Ecstatic experience can accordingly be counterproductive, and as already mentioned, may well remain limited to the realm of emotion. A loftier—and more thoroughly transformative—mode of worship uses the mind to exercise emotional self-discipline, subduing self-expression and subjecting the entirety of one’s being to the mindful apprehension of divinity and the practical service of G-d.[44]

The distinctions are perhaps not as sharp as Grunwald portrays them, but the shift is certainly a real one. In the earlier period Rabbi Schneur Zalman instructed his disciples to use their intellectual capacities to inspire emotional expression and exuberance (as reflected in Tanya). In the later period he taught them to cultivate a more contained and constant form of internal animation, channeling mindful enthusiasm directly into the practical service of G-d—Torah study and mitzvah performance—rather than allowing it to overflow into the heart unbridled.[45]

A related point, addressed in a different article, is the debate between Rabbi Schneur Zalman and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk on the complex relationship between faith and knowledge. In 1805 the former delivered a series of discourses on the topic, elicited by the latter’s renewed critique, and Grunwald’s rich treatment of the sources further underscores the centrality of such theoretical issues in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s later teachings.[46]

As we have seen, the transition between the Liozna and Liadi periods was rooted in the parting of ways that transpired between Rabbi Schneur Zalman and Rabbi Avraham. One result of this transition—Grunwald further argues—was the subsequent parting of ways between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oldest son, Rabbi DovBer of Lubavitch, and his foremost disciple, Rabbi Aharon of Strashelye. As has been most extensively described by Naftali Loewenthal, these two personalities clashed precisely over the question of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to emotional enthusiasm, particularly during prayer.[47] Rabbi Aharon first came to Liozna at the age of 17, shortly after Rabbi Schneur Zalman settled there in 1783. Rabbi DovBer would have been less than ten years old at the time, and he did not begin transcribing his father's teachings until 1798—that is, at the very end of the Liozna period. Grunwald accordingly asserts that the eras in which they each matured as students of Rabbi Schneur Zalman can be broadly distinguished along the lines of their later disagreement.[48]While this claim rings true, it is complicated by the facts that Rabbi Aharon and Rabbi DovBer were close associates for many years, and that by 1798 the later would already have been 25 years old.[49]

Grunwald enriches his analysis of the relevant transcripts with several recollections and comments of the Tzemach Tzedek.[50] One example is a note in the latter’s own hand, appended to a teaching in which Rabbi Schneur Zalman categorically rejects any emotionalism, preferring the cerebral approach “even if it is only superficial and somatic… with very brief contemplation, and coldness…” The Tzemach Tzedek recalls that this extreme formulation was directed towards a particular individual whose enthusiastic conduct needed to be reined in, and was not necessarily intended to be applied more generally. More applicable is the general thrust of this teaching, which gives ultimate primacy to “the quality and substance of internal subjugation (bitul) in the mind and heart, in the aspect of prostration… without any detectable movement.”[51]

Another source records that seeing the Tzemach Tzedek’s note, one of his grandsons asked him if the specific individual referred to was Rabbi Aharon of Strashelye: “And his grandfather answered him… G-d forbid! I was not thinking of him, for he experienced G-dly enthusiasm…”[52] Grunwald relates this remark to a distinction drawn by Rabbi Schneur Zalman himself between the worship of an ordinary individual and that of a tzaddik, who is not susceptible to the pitfalls of ecstatic love and emotional enthusiasm. Regarding the difference between Rabbi DovBer and Rabbi Aharon, he refers to the vivid image provided by the Rebbe Rashab:

Like a burning stick of hay. When it is dry it burns with a flame. It burns through and nothing remains. [Such was the service of Rabbi Aharon] But when it contains moisture its substance is entirely burnt through, and yet [its form] remains standing. Touch it. It is nothing. Yet the form stands. Such was the Mitteler Rebbe [Rabbi DovBer]. This is the love of glowing flame, an all consuming fire, yet the form stands.[53]

Of Angels and Other Things

Notable both for its topical interest and for the broader significance of its central point is an analysis of the treatment of angels in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings by Rabbi Aharon Chitrik. “Chabad teachings… present comprehensive and deep explanations, extending to very specific details of the nature of angels: their creation, their character, their station, their role, their subjugation to G-d, prayer and song, their constant service, their free-will or lack thereof, etc. etc.” But these discussions, Chitrik convincingly demonstrates, do not reflect any intrinsic interest in angels at all. Angels are only the focus of such intense discussion as a counterpoint from which we can achieve a better understanding of the unique nature of the Jewish soul, and its mission on this physical earth.[54] In an 1804 discourse explicating this point, Rabbi Schneur Zalman extends this principle to all Kabbalistic discussions of the cosmic chain of supernal realms: Ultimately all such theoretical investigations are but a stepping stone to achieve direct knowledge of G-d’s essence.[55]

Two additional articles are devoted to the Tzemach Tzedek’s intensive engagement with his grandfather’s discourses, firstly from a theoretical perspective,[56]and secondly as editor and publisher of Torah Ohrand Likutei Torah.[57]In Grunwald’s apt and illuminating formulation, the Tzemach Tzedek is to Rabbi Schneur Zalman as the Tosafists are to the Talmud Bavli: Surveying Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s different treatments of the same or related topics, the Tzemach Tzedek seeks to compare them and combine them, ironing out apparent conflicts through innovative explanation, differentiation, and harmonization, and also to contextualize the former’s teachings within the broader Jewish tradition of philosophical and mystical thought.[58]

For all the rich depth, analysis and insight of Grunwald’s scholarship, his work in this volume tends to suffer from a certain looseness of form. Moving from text to context, from observation and analysis to elaboration and speculation, order and balance is sometimes lost; some points are too often repeated, others scattered in footnotes or hardly developed at all. His article on the Midrashic notion of “a dwelling in the lower realms,” as developed in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, abounds with relevant sources, thoughtful comparisons and observations. Yet it runs to nearly sixty pages and reads more like a voluminous draft than a tightly argued thesis.[59]

At the outset, Grunwald takes stock of the various perspectives within the Jewish tradition from which the purpose of the Torah and its commandments can be viewed—the Halachic, the philosophic and the kabbalistic—before proceeding to the unique contribution of Chassidism. Self admittedly his analysis is too sweeping. But it could also be better grounded in the relevant texts.[60] His conclusion that the Chassidic object of “a dwelling in the lower realms” is tied to the revelation of divine unity is in particular need of justification and elaboration. His initial discussion of the philosophical purpose of the Torah and its commandments similarly highlighted divine unity, a point that will further confuse many readers. The Rebbe Rashab explicitly discussed the Chassidic renewal of this midrashic conception in terms of its relationship with philosophical and kabbalistic approaches, and Grunwald is as familiar as anyone with the relevant sources. But it is not till footnote 99 that the first discourse of Yom Tov Shel Rosh Hashanah 5666 (“Samach Vav”) makes an appearance.[61]

Given the immensity of Grunwald’s project, as editor of this volume and its chief contributor, he is to be applauded for his successful effort to share such a great wealth of information and insight. Nevertheless, in several instances Grunwald’s arguments would have been substantively enhanced if he had the time and resources to ensure that they were composed and constructed with more orderliness and concision. In fact, the more one delves into his work, the more one can envision all that remains to be written. Many a brief note, expanded into a fully developed thesis, could be the topic of an independent article.[62]

Moving beyond the direct transcripts of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings, the volume includes a substantial collection of short sayings and teachings attributed to R. Schneur Zalman in a wide variety of secondary sources.[63] A second collection draws exclusively on the oeuvre of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn of Lubavitch (1880-1950), whose journals, letters and private talks preserve a rich reservoir of anecdotes and historiographical data passed down from the first generation of Chabad.[64] Both of these rich collections were compiled by Grunwald and benefit greatly from his critical notes, comments and citations.

Also included in this volume is a newly edited edition of the seminal commentary to the Tanya by one of the principal educators in the original Yeshiva Tomchei Temimim, Lubavitch—Rabbi Shmuel Groinem Estherman (d. 1921).[65] Even in its as yet incomplete form this is a substantial text, which bears study and review in its own right. Another article gathers information on the period spent by Rabbi Schneur Zalman in Mohyliv-Podil’s’kyi on the River Dniester, following Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk’s ascent to the Holy Land.[66] Similar articles are devoted to some of the former’s Chassidim, including, but not limited to, the well known Rabbi Binyamin of Kletzk[67] and the lesser known —but perhaps equally influential, and certainly more intriguingly named—Rabbi Dovid Shvartz-Tuma.[68]

Subjective Transformation

Although the importance of Halacha for Rabbi Schneur Zalman and his work as a legal authority receives little attention in this volume, there are two notable exceptions. The first is Grunwald’s discussion of the relationship between the legal focus on physical activity and the mystical/Midrashic notion that G-d desired a dwelling in the physical realms specifically.[69] The second is a discussion by Rabbi Noach Green juxtaposing the objective rule of law in cases of monetary disputation with a more subjective process of arbitration and compromise. Rabbi Schneur Zalman prefered the subjective approach in practice, and also devoted several discourses to the mystical basis of that preference, explaining that this was the surer way of transforming our lowly environment into a “dwelling” for G-d.[70] As Green puts it: “The truthof Torah is imposed objectively, without actually refining the lowly material. Whereas the kindness of Torah is in accord with the nature of creation, and comes to refine the material as it is.”[71]

This preference—for subjective transformation rather than submissive acceptance of objective law—correlates with the ultimate focus of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s broader educational project. As we have seen, during the Liadi period his teachings delved deeply into the most esoteric of kabbalistic doctrines. But their purpose was ultimately focused on the conjunction of the highest highs and the lowest lows: direct knowledge of G-d’s essence and the physical practice of the commandments. As is often noted in Chabad teachings, this overcoming of the cosmic hierarchy will only be accomplished fully with the advent of the messianic era. But the period of the exile is not merely a ceaseless struggle between our reality and our ideals, and messianic revelation is not simply bestowed from above. As Rabbi Schneur Zalman asserts in Tanya, it is achieved through our subjective toil throughout the era of exile.[72]

But the question remains to be asked: Why did Rabbi Schneur Zalman place such an emphasis on the assimilation and contemplation of theoretical ideals, which most of us cannot yet adequately replicate in practice? Why did he not restrict his instruction to the more directly attainable elements of divine service, as he had in the Liozna period?

A fascinating array of sources related to these questions are collected in another article by Grunwald.[73] One example attributes the following distinction between toil of the heart and toil of the mind to Rabbi Schneur Zalman: G-d promises that with the messianic advent “I shall remove the heartof stone… and give you a heart of flesh,” but nothing similar is said of themind. In the realm of the heart, of emotional inspiration and refinement, we may ultimately rely on divine intervention. But we must first ready ourselves for such revelation intellectually, independently toiling to “subjectively assimilate, and affix in our minds, all the stations that will be achieved with the messianic advent.”[74]

Grunwald argues that for Rabbi Schnuer Zalman this kind of intellectual work isn’t simply a technical condition to the messianic revelation. It is actually central to his vision of such revelation as something achieved through human toil, through the subjective transformation of our lowly reality into a lofty messianic state. It is only if we have internally readied ourselves that the messianic advent can be complete, with the mindful quality of interiority openly spilling over into our hearts.[75] In the words of the Rashab, cited earlier in this article: “The ultimate intention is the quality of interiority specifically, for with the coming of Moshiach specifically the interiority will be revealed…”[76]

Notes:

[1] On Mondshine’s life and work see Eli Rubin, “Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine, 67, Acclaimed Scholar and Author, Passes Away in Jerusalem,” Chabad.org (25 December 2014), available here. See also David Assaf, “Avad Chassid Min Ha-aretz,” Oneg Shabbat blog (26 December 2014), available here here.

[2] Notably, the new and improved edition of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Igrot Kodesh (Kehot Publication Society, 2012), edited by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine, and the still ongoing publication of all extant transcripts of Rabbi Shneur Zalman’s oral discourses in the multi volume series Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken. See also Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit (Kehot Publication Society, 2010), and Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine, Masa Barditchev (2010), Ha-maasar Ha-rishon (2012) and Ha-masa Ha-acharon (2012), among other works. In English see, most recently, Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady: The Origins of the Chabad School (Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2015). While this is a valuable introductory work that takes advantage of first-hand documentary sources, I have noted elsewhere that its scope is rather limited. See Eli Rubin, “Making Chasidism Accessible: How Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi Successfully Preserved and Perpetuated the Teachings of The Baal Shem Tov,” Chabad.org (10 September 2012), available here. The shortcoming of that work are further highlighted when compared with the insights offered of the present volume. See my related comment below, note three. For an earlier, but in many ways broader, more complex and more insightful work see Naftali Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite: The Emergence of the Chabad School (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1990). For a partial review of recent publications see Eli Rubin, The Rabbi Who Defied Napoleon and Made Mysticism Accessible: New publications illuminate the life and legacy of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad.org (11 January 2013), available here.

[3] For an important exception see Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 66-76 and 117-119. Though relatively brief, Loewenthal’s discussion is well grounded in the primary sources, and in several ways prefigures insights that are presented with far more elaboration in the present work. Another important work is Roman A. Foxbrunner, Habad: The Hasidism of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady (University of Albama Press, 1992), which takes stock of some important aspects of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings through a particularly wide analysis of the oral, as well as written, teachings. In certain respects this work similarly prefigures the present volume, but without the diachronic dimensions that will here be highlighted. For further treatments see Eli Rubin, “The Future is Now: Assorted reflections on the oral teachings of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad-Revisited (30 November 2015), available here, and Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here. Etkes’ fleeting discussion of the oral teachings (Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, 50-54) relies on secondary sources, and at one point (note 93) confuses Rabbi Schneur Zalman with his great grandson, Rabbi Chaim Schneur Zalman of Liadi. It should be noted that none of these sources, including the present volume, address the two volumes of discourses published by Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s son, Rabbi DovBer: Siddur Tefilot Mi-kol Ha-shana Im Pirush Hamilot Al Pi Dach(Kopust, 1816), online here, and Bi’urei Ha-zohar (Kopust, 1816), online here. See also Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel Schneerson (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), where many texts by Rabbi Schneur Zalman are contextualized within a discussion of the thought of Chabad’s seventh Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream: A Dream Interpreted within a Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination(Cambridge, MA: Zone Books, 2011), 197-217. For more on Wolfson's oeuvre, see Joey Rosenfeld, “Dorshei Yichudcha: A Portrait of Professor Elliot R. Wolfson,” the Seforim blog (21 July 2015), available here.

[4] Such belatedness seems to be something of a custom with such publications. In the introduction to the present volume (p. 15) reference is made to Sefer HaKan, a collection of articles on Rabbi Schneur Zalman that was intended to mark the 150th year since his passing in 1962, but which did not appear till the beginning of 1970, and is available online here.

[5] For the relationship with Rabbi Avraham see Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 51-54 and 77-90; Nehemia Polen, “Charismatic Leader, Charismatic Book: Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Tanya and His Leadership,” in Suzanne Last Stone, ed., Rabbinic and Lay Communal Authority (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 2006), 60-61; Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady: The Origins of the Chabad School (Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2015), 209-258. On the relationship with Rabbi Shlomo see the articles of Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, as cited specifically below.

[6] See Rabbi Meir Chaim Hillman, Beis Rebbi(Berditchev, 1902), Part 1, Chapter 20, note 5. See also the account in Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, Igrot KodeshVol. 3 (Kehot Publication Society, 1983), 444-445.

[7] Cited in HaRav, 401, and attributed to Rabbi Shlomo Zalman of Kopust in the name of his grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek.

[8] Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn, Torat Shalom (Kehot Publication Society, 1970), 26.

[9] See Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 72-73. Grunwald, HaRav, 402-406.

[10] Torat Shalom, 114. Grunwald, HaRav, 412-413.

[11] This is the second of the six features described by Grunwald, HaRav, 415-416.

[12] Another article in this volume, by the late Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine (HaRav, 609-650), collects extant accounts of such audiences, providing illuminating glimpses of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s interactions as a personal mentor.

[13] HaRav, 415, and at greater length, Ibid., 394-396. See, however, the discussion of Tanya as exoteric in relation to the esoteric aspect expressed in the oral teachings, as cited by Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, p. 235-236, note 67.

[14] HaRav, 416.

[15] HaRav, 415.

[16] HaRav, 420-421.

[17] HaRav, 416-418. See also Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here.

[18] HaRav, 413. On this last point see also Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 68. On the stringent demands Rabbi Schneur Zalman attaches to worship of G-d see Foxbrunner, Habad, 116.

[19] HaRav, 415. For an ongoing exploration of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s discussion of ohr ain sof and tzimtzum, on the part of the present writer, see my series here.

[20] See HaRav, 430-431.

[21] See the extended discussion in HaRav, 361-375.

[22] A formulation borrowed from Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here.

[23] See the introduction to Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken (Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 42-43, and sources cited there; Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit, 29-31; Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 42; Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, 9-19.

[24] HaRav, 391-396. See also pages 421-423 where Grunwald argues that Rabbi Schneur Zalman sought to deemphasize the role of the tzaddik in chassidim altogether. In my view the picture he paints is overly simplistic, and he himself notes that more research is required. As I have argued elsewhere, while Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s understanding of the tzaddik’s role was different to that of other Chassidic leaders, he understood it to be no less central than they; see Eli Rubin, “The Second Refinement and the Role of the Tzaddik: How Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi discovered a new way to serve G-d,” Chabad.org, available online here. For further comments on the role of the tzadik in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings see below note 28.

[25] As published in Rabbi Aharon Surasky, Yesod Ha-maalahVol. 2 (Bnei Brak, 2000), 85-86.

[26] In a similar vein see Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 167, 137.

[27] See the related discussion of this source in Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 157, p. 187).

[28] Elsewhere in the present volume, Rabbi Eliyahu Matusof points out that when, in 1806—that is, in the Liadi period—Rabbi Schneur Zalman published a new edition of the Tanya, this reference to “our masters in the Holy Land” was omitted. Both Matusof (HaRav, 344-380) and Grunwald (HaRav, 398, note 30) see this as evidence that the distinction between the earlier and later periods of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership (as described in more detail below) is to be extended to Tanya as well. In the earlier period it served as a proxy for one-on-one mentorship (yechidut). In the later period (when references to yechidutwere also omitted from the 1806 edition of Tanya) it was transformed into the foundation of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s broader project to formulate, explain and disseminate the unique theoretical edifice of Chabad in terms that were accessible enough to be studied, assimilated and acted upon by any aspiring Chassid for perpetuity.

Grunwald’s general thrust also provides an important counterbalance to the argument advanced by Nehemia Polen (Charismatic Leader, Charismatic Book, 53-64) that the Tanya was designed to craft a balance between control and empowerment, enforcing a rigid structure of social stratification, in which the tzadik is placed on a spiritual plain that the average man (benoni) can never hope to reach. Grunwald’s work complicates this sociological interpretation by demonstrating that during the period of Tanya’s composition the sociological structure of the Chassidic community had not yet been crystallized into distinct hierarchies led by individual tzaddikim, but was rather a complex network with a spectrum of different kinds of authorities and leaders, whose homogeneity Rabbi Schneur Zalman did not seek to break. It is my belief that Tanya’s portrait of the tzaddik in contrast to the average man is primarily to be read theoretically and psychologically rather than sociologically. That is, it relates to the inner world of man, rather than to the external world of the community. As Polen acknowledges, the entire distinction between the tzaddik and the beinoni is such that outwardly the latter may be mistaken for the former. Tanya does discuss the role of the tzadik within the community, but it primarily does so using the terms “wise men” (chachamim), “Torah scholars” (talmidei chachamim), “wise men of the generation” (chachmei ha-dor), and “visionaries of the community” (enei ha-edah), which carry more obvious degrees of social implication. This claim, I believe, is born out by the sources discussed in my article, as cited above, note 24. Moreover, the plural tense of these terms better reflects the less stratified sociological reality of the time.

[29] Levine, HaRav, 661-684; See also the important series of articles by Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Karlin Be-tekufat Galut, in Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, as cited by Levine, Ibid., 662, note 9.

[30] See Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Al Harigato Shel Moshiach Hashem, in Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issues 39, 39 and 40.

[31] Levine, HaRav, 668-669. During this more peaceful period a match was arranged between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s widowed son-in-law—Rabbi Shalom Shachne, father of the Tzemach Tzedek of Lubavitch—and Rivka Rivla, the sister of Rabbi Asher of Stolin. See Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 162, p. 139-140.

[32] See the relevant discussions in HaRav, 426-431; Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, 98-100; Jonathan Garb, Yearnings of the Soul (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2015), 50-57. This last source is particularly notable for its emphasis on the respective roles of the mind and the heart in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings, which is also the broader theme of the present essay.

[33] Levine, HaRav, 670-672. See the excerpts appended to Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken(Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 496, 498-500.

[34] HaRav, 400. The coincidence of these two ruptures is underscored in a letter by Rabbi Schneur Zalman noting his inability to respond to Rabbi Avraham’s critique until circa 1799-1800, due “to the distress of the times,” referring to his arrest. See Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken, 341; HaRav, 672.

[35] See the editor's Introduction to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (ed. Rabbi DovBer Levine), Igrot Kodesh (Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 35-37.

[36] With regard to mili de’alma see HaRav, 391, note 13; 409-410. With regard to takonat liozna see HaRav, 398, note 29; 408, note 65. See also Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit, 36.

[37] In one of the very last texts penned by Rabbi Schneur Zalman before his passing he even went so far as to justify and explain this central link between material concerns and the spiritual service of G-d. See sources cited and discussed in the editor's Introduction to Igrot Kodesh, 39. See also Yanki Tauber, “The Physical World According to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad.org, available here.

[38] HaRav, 396-398; 388-389, note 6. See also the discussion by Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 172, 151-152. Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 71-77. For a similar shift in the role that Tanya came to play in this period see above, note 28.

[39] For Grunwald’s extended discussion see HaRav, 432-461. See also Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 75-77 and 117-119. For a particularly extensive discussion of the nature and role of love and awe in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings see Foxbrunner, Habad, 178-194.

[40] Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken Al Maamarei Chazal, 94. HaRav, 453-454. See also Foxbrunner, Habad, 186.

[41] My thanks goes to Rabbi Avraham Altein for bringing this distinction to my attention, and for providing other important comments and citations.

[42] HaRav, 438-552.

[43] HaRav, 433-434. See also Foxbrunner, Habad, 185.

[44] In a discourse delivered in the autumn of 1799 (Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken Ketuvim Vol. 1, 67 [96]), in between the first and second imprisonments (and misleadingly described by Grunwald as “the very beginning of the period following Petersburg”), Rabbi Schneur Zalman describes how to cultivate this cerebral form of love. It is noteworthy that this contemplation is explicitly directed from the mind to the heart:

“Speak to your heart quietly and coolly, which is the opposite of the heated movement of the heart… Settled mindfulness (yishuv ha-daat) is cool, without any movement, and you shall delve deeply into settled mindfulness with ease and calm (be-nachat), and say to your heart: ‘The infinite revelation of G-d creates [existence], something from nothing, at every moment, it is clear in my intellect that this is so… If so how can I be separate [from G-d]? And [how can] all my thoughts and the capacities of my soul not constantly be cleaving to G-d… ?”

[45] See also Loewenthal, Ibid., where similar argument are made drawing on additional textual examples. Loewenthal also demonstrates an increased focus on abnegation (bitul) in contrast to emotionalism.

[46] HaRav, 473-505. See also Levine, HaRav, 675-684. Levine, Introduction to Igrot Kodesh, 49, points out that the year 1805 is when the term “Chabad” comes into use as a way of expressly distinguishing the followers of Rabbi Schneur Zalman from those of other Chassidic leaders.

[47] Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 100-138, and 167-174 and 195. See also Hillman, Beis Rebbi, Part 1, Chapter 26, and Louis Jacobs, Tract on Ecstasy (Vallentine Mitchell, 1963); Louis Jacobs, Seeker of Unity: The Life and Works of Aharon of Starosselje (Vallentine Mitchell, 1966). For more recent comments on Rabbi DovBer, Rabbi Aaron and the interrelationship of their thought see Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream, 210-214, and Garb, Yearnings of the Soul, 56-57.

[48] HaRav, 432-438.

[49] See also the accounts transmitted by Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn in Igrot Kodesh Vol. 3 (Kehot Publication Society, 1983), 477; and in Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Reshimot Ha-yoman (Kehot Publication Society, 2006), 367.

[50] HaRav, 448-449.

[51] Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch, Ohr Ha-torah, Bereishit Vol. 3, 603-604 (Hebrew pagination). This last quote—as well as the source quoted above, note 44—further emphasizes the central role that the heart continued to play in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, even in the later period. See Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken 5570, 207-210 for a discourse delivered by Rabbi DovBer in the lifetime of Rabbi Schneur Zalman, which similarly emphasizes this point, contrasting between the exteriority of the heart and the interiority of the heart (pnimiyut ha-lev). As Loewenthal puts it (Ibid., 122) Rabbi DovBer too demanded ecstasy: “not ecstasy of the self, but of the nonself…”

[52] Hillman, Beis Rebbi, Part 1, Chapter 26, note 4.

[53] Torat Shalom, 213.

[54] HaRav, 563-572.

[55] Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken 5565, 4.

[56] Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, HaRav, 573-586.

[57] Rabbi Nechemia Teichman, HaRav, 587-606.

[58] Grunwald’s description here is inspired by the comment of the Maharshal regarding the achievement of the Tosafists. See Yam Shel Shlomo, introduction to Chulin.

[59] HaRav, 506-562.

[60] For one relevant text that Grunwald does not discuss see Ma’amarei Admur ha-Zaken 5565, Volume 1, 489–90. For my own discussion of this text, as well as a contextualization of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach within the broader streams of Jewish rationalist and mystical thought that differs somewhat from Grunwald’s approach see Eli Rubin,“Intimacy in the Place of Otherness: How rationalism and mysticism collaboratively communicate the Midrashic core of cosmic purpose,” Chabad.org, available here.

[61] HaRav, 544-545. Footnote 99, incidentally, is well worth reading. Among other points there, Grunwald makes explicit reference to Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s Halakhic Man. Indeed, hints to the similarities and differences between the latter’s approach and that of Rabbi Schneur Zalman are already apparent from the onset of Grunwald’s article. For more on this general topic See Elliot R. Wolfson, “Eternal Duration and Temporal Compresence: The Influence of Habad on Joseph B. Soloveitchik,” in Michael Zank and Ingrid Anderson, eds., The Value of the Particular: Lessons from Judaism and the Modern Jewish Experience - Festschrift for Steven T. Katz on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 196-238.

[62] Take for example page 562, footnote 145, where Grunwald gestures to the question of Jewish chosenness as developed in Chabad thought through the generations. For a lengthy treatment of this topic see Wolfson, Open Secret, Chapter 6. See also Eli Rubin, “Divine Zeitgeist—The Rebbe’s Appreciative Critique of Modernity,” Chabad.org, available here, and Wojciech Tworek, Time in the Teachings of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (dissertation submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, University College London, 2014), 126-136. None of these treatments deal with the diburificating statement Grunwald points to Likutei Sichot Vol. 16 (Kehot Publication Society, 2006), 477-478: “When will it be achieved in a revealed sense that the Jews are a dwelling for G-d? …Specifically… when, through the Jews, the lower realms themselves become a place that is fit for G-d’s dwelling… Since the intention of a dwelling in the lower realms is [rooted] in G-d’s essence, it is impossible to say that this intention should be compounded of two things…”

[63] HaRav, 3-124.

[64] HaRav, 125-211.

[65] HaRav, 215-343.

[66] HaRav, 653-658.

[67] HaRav, 701-740.

[68] HaRav, 765-770.

[69] HaRav, 516-528.

[70] HaRav, 693.

[71] HaRav, 698. On Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Halachik work and method Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin, “Shulchan Aruch Admur” in Sofrim Ve-seforim Vol. 2 (Tel Aviv: Hotza’at Sefarim Avraham Tziyoni, 1959), 9-21 [Hebrew], translated and adapted by the present writer as, ‘Systematization, Explanation and Arbitration: Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi’s Unique Legislative Style,” Chabad.org, available here. For an overview of the current state of scholarship on this topic see Levi Cooper, “Towards A Judicial Biography of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady,” Journal of Law and Religion 30, no. 1 (2015), 107-135. On the need to address the relationship between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Halachik and Kabbalistic work see Garb, Yearnings of the Soul, 155-157.

[72] Likutei Amarim, Chapter 37. For an extended discussion of the prominent place of the messianic idea in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, correcting a major gap in previous scholarship, see Wojciech Tworek, Time in the Teachings of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (dissertation submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, University College London, 2014), especially Chapters 2 and 3. See the related discussion in Foxbrunner, Habad, 85-93, and also Eli Rubin, “The Idealistic Realism of Jewish Messianism: On Chabad’s apocalyptic calculations, and why Jews have always predicted elusive ends,” Chabad.org, available here.

[73] HaRav, 462-472.

[74] HaRav, 469.

[75] HaRav, 470-472.

[76] Torat Shalom, 26.

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December 14, 2015, 10:05 am

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Very rarely in the history of parshanut has one author written both a translation of the entire Torah text and a complete Torah commentary in Hebrew. Most likely, no one has accomplished this feat since Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto, 1800-1865). Now, the second volume of his Pentateuco is available in a new, all-English version—Shadal on Exodus: Samuel David Luzzatto’s Interpretation of the Book of Shemot, translated and edited by Daniel A. Klein (New York: Kodesh Press, 2015). This edition is a double translation, rendering into clear and modern English both Shadal’s Italian version of the text and his Hebrew perush. This marks the first appearance of Shadal’s complete work on Shemot in 143 years, since its original publication in Padua, 1872.

A great-grandnephew of Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto (author of Mesillat Yesharim), Shadal served for more than 35 years as a professor of Bible, Hebrew, and Jewish history and religion at the Collegio Rabbinico of Padua, where he mentored many of the future leaders of Italian Jewry. Shadal was a superb linguist, writer, and religious thinker, devoting his talents above all to parshanut. Although he was a devout believer in the divinity, unity, and antiquity of the Torah, Shadal approached the text in a remarkably open spirit of inquiry, drawing upon a wide variety of sources, ancient and contemporary, Jewish and non-Jewish, and focusing on the “plain” meaning (peshat) as he saw it. A passionate scholar with a torrid “Italian” temperament, Shadal laced his commentary with occasional touches of wit and sarcasm, and many of his interpretations may strike even the modern reader as fresh and novel.

Among his most interesting comments on the Book of Exodus are the following:

Even when performing miracles, God prefers to adhere to the ways of nature in part. Thus, the plagues of Egypt resembled in some respect phenomena that were natural in Egypt, some occurring in one year and some occurring in another, except that in the year in question, all of them came clustered together, and each one contained a novel aspect that was not found in nature (see at Ex. 7:20). Similarly, the splitting of the Red Sea was a miraculous event mixed with natural elements, not entirely unlike a phenomenon that saved the Dutch fleet during a seventeenth-century war with England (see at Ex. 14:21). In so holding, Shadal rejected on the one hand the extreme attempts by some moderns to naturalize the Exodus miracles, and on the other hand any fanciful embellishments by more traditional scholars that “unnecessarily overloaded the Torah’s account with signs and wonders.”
In the phrase tehomot yekhasyumu (“the depths covered them”) in the Song of the Sea, the grammatically strange and unique word yekhasyumu is best explained as a use of onomatopoeia—that is, the employment of an imitative and naturally suggestive word for rhetorical effect—because the double “u” sound arouses an impression of darkness and depth and thus portrays to the listener’s ear the enemy’s sinking into the deep waters (see at Ex. 15:5). In fact, Shadal’s treatment of the entire Song is the pearl of his Exodus perush. In the course of his commentary on chapter 15, he includes, among other things, (1) a discussion of why ancient Hebrew poetry contains traces of Aramaic, (2) a thorough explanation of the poetic device of parallelism, (3) an essay on the derivation and semantics of the word kodesh (“holiness”), and for good measure, (4) a stinging diatribe against the philosophy of Spinoza.
One of the purposes behind the collection of the silver half-shekel for the Tabernacle was to diminish the people’s fear of the “evil eye” (see at Ex. 30:12). They were being counted, and the people believed that a census might arouse the evil eye unless they paid a “ransom” to help build the sanctuary. God did not wish to abolish the folk belief in the evil eye altogether, since it had the beneficial effect of keeping the people from putting too much trust in their own might or wealth. In fact, said Shadal, what the common people attributed to the evil eye—and modern scholars just as misguidedly dismissed as coincidence—was a Divinely decreed phenomenon of nature, that “pride goeth before the fall.”

Shadal on Exodus is equipped with explanatory notes, a source index, a subject and author index, and a list identifying the many and varied authorities that Shadal cited.

The book may be ordered now on Amazon or on the Kodesh Press website.

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Evening Prayer Revisited

December 23, 2015, 2:29 pm

≫ Next: A Note Regarding Dayan Simcha Zelig Rieger’s View of Opening a Refrigerator Door on Shabbat

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Evening Prayer Revisited

Chaim Sunitsky

There is a dispute in Tamud Bavli (Brachot 4b) as to whether one should say Shma with Brachot before or after Shmone Esre during the evening prayer. The opinion of R. Yohanan is that Shma is said first while the opinion of R. Yehoshua ben Levi is that Shmone Esre is said before the Shma. Moreover, while R. Yohanan holds that Shma is followed by Shmone Esre immediately, according to R. Yehoshua ben Levi Shmone Esre can be recited separately and Shma with its blessings does not have to follow immediately after. The practice of all Jews today is to follow R. Yochanan.

Most Rishonim[1] and the Shulchan Aruch rule like R. Yohanan and indeed this seems to be the opinion of the Babylonian Talmud. This is called being “Somech Geula leTefila”, meaning the blessing of Gaal Yisrael (Who Redeemed Israel) is recited immediately before the Shmone Esre. At first sight it seems that the last blessing after evening Shma (Hashkivenu – let us go to sleep) only makes sense according to R. Yehoshua ben Levi. Indeed, Talmud Bavli (ibid) asks how the blessing of Hashkivenu would not be considered an interruption between Geula and Tefila according to R. Yochanan? It answers that it is considered “long Geula” (or continuation of the Geula). Our thesis is that in Palestine in Talmudic times, the opinion of R. Yehoshua ben Levi was the more accepted shita and moreover that they used to say Hashkivenu as the last blessing before going to sleep (as we say Hamapil[2]).

Rashi (Brachot2a) brings in the name of Talmud Yerushlami: Why do we say Shma in the synagogue in the evening, even though this is done before[3] the earliest time to fulfil the obligation? It answers that we do this כדי לעמוד בתפלה מתוך דברי תורה

While it seems from Rashi that they said Shma with the blessings before Shmone Esre[4], the Tosafot (ibid) in the name of R. Tam[5] says that they used to simply recite Shma without blessings before Maariv, just like we say Ashre before Mincha. Later on they would say Shma with the blessings following R. Yehoshua ben Levi. Indeed the sugia further in the same Yerushalmi (1:1) supports this interpretation entirely[6]:

מילתיה אמרה שאין אמר דברים אחר אמת ויציב מילתיה דרבי שמואל בר נחמני אמר כן רבי שמואל בר נחמני כד הוה נחית לעיבורה הוה מקבל רבי יעקב גרוסה והוה רבי זעירא מטמר ביני קופייא משמענא היך הוה קרי שמע והוה קרי וחזר וקרי עד דהו'שקע מיניה גו שינתיה ומאי טעמא רבי אחא ור'תחליפא חמוי בשם רבי שמואל בר נחמן רגזו ואל תחטאו אמרו בלבבכם על משכבכם ודומו סלה מילתיה דר'יהושע בן לוי פליגא דרבי יהושע בן לוי קרי מזמורים בתרה …

It discusses if it’s permitted to speak after one already said the blessings after evening Shma[7]. It mentions R. Yakov Grosa used to not speak after he said Shma with blessings, and then mentions R. Yehoshua ben Levi[8] who used to still say various psalms afterwards[9].

From the Yerushalmi it seems that most people used to say Shmone Esre during the daytime, and later ate their meal[10]and laid down to sleep[11] saying the evening Shma with blessings.[12]

We can also explain from here how the shita of Bet Shamai regarding saying evening Shma while laying down could have developed. It is unlikely that Shma in the evening was pronounced in normal position and then in some generation Bet Shamai suddenly ruled that one has to literally lie down to say it. A more likely scenario is that it was the norm to recite the evening Shma while lying down and the dispute of Bet Hillel and Bet Shamai arose as to whether this is the requirement or is merely done for convenience so as to not interrupt and fall asleep immediately.

Another obscure shita we can now explain is in Zohar Hadash (Bereshit 17d in Mosad HaRav Kook edition). It mentions that the idea of praying with “redness of the sun” applies to Maariv, not Mincha[13] like our Talmud (Brachot 29b). In light of the shita of R. Yeshoshua ben Levi we can understand this. It seems the ideal time for Maariv according to this was around sundown. However one cannot fulfill the mitzvah of Shma at this time. It is also interesting that in Tosefta (Brachot, 3:2) the opinion of R. Yossi is mentioned that Maariv should be recited at the time of “Neilat Shearim”.

In conclusion, it seems that there were some communities where the norm was to recite Shmone Esre of the evening prayer before Shma with blessings, and these communities apparently recited the last blessing of Shma (Hashkivenu) in place of our Hamapil.

[1] I am currently unaware of any Rishon that paskened not like R. Yohanan, however the Meiri writes that “majority” pasken like R. Yohanan, so there must have been some who did not.

[2] Indeed Yerushlami does not mention the blessing of Hamapil, but it seems they used to say Hashkiveinu as the last Bracha and fall asleep afterwards. It’s interesting that our siddurim added Hashkivenu without Hatima at the Seder of going to sleep even though in reality for us this brocha is not necessary since we have Hamapil.

[3] It was normal to say the evening Shmone Esre in Eretz Yisrael during day time, before stars come out (possibly because of the danger to go outside at night as their synagogues were outside of the city).

[4] As many do today when praying early Maariv.

[5] See also Rosh (Brachot 1:1) and Korban Netaniel (10).

[6] See the commentaries from Baal Sefer Haredim and R. Chaim Kanievky. It’s possible that Rashi did not see this whole sugia in Yerushlami but only saw a quote of it in a Gaonic source. In general regarding use of Yerushalmi in Rashi, see Saul Lieberman’s letter to Solomon Zeitlin published at the end of Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox by R. Marc Shapiro, see also the discussion from Homat Yerushalaim printed in the beginning of standard Yerushalmi editions.

[7] The Yerushalmi calls the blessing after “Emet Veyatziv” as this was their Nusach, but our Nusach in the evening is “Emet Veemuna”.

[8] Of course R. Yehoshua ben Levi followed his own shita and said Shma with Brachot after Shmone Esre. Note that the same sugia before in Yerushalmi also discusses whether it’s permitted to speak after “Emet Veyatziv”. It continues with והא תני אין אומר דברים אחד אמת ויציב פתר לה באמת ויציב של שחרית.

[9] This is mentioned in our Talmud (Shevuot 16b) as well.

[10] And the prohibition of eating before Shma did not apply since they read Shma already even though they did not fulfill their obligation or because they were eating before the time of Shma arrived.

[11] For those who did not immediately go to sleep, the Yerushalmi (ibid) indeed mentions that they should recite Shma (with blessings) before midnight.

[12] Interestingly even at later times when many communities had a custom to say the evening prayer early, some people recited Shma without Brachot. R. Hai Gaon (Tshuvot Hagaonim Hahadashot – Emanuel, 93; this tshuva is brought in Rosh1:1 and Bet Yosef 235) suggests that the one who is found in such a congregation should only say Shma without blessings and pray Shmone Esre together with them, but later one say Shma with Brachot.

[13] Indeed the Talmud there states that in Palestine they cursed the one who prays Mincha so close to sundown as it may lead to missing the time. Obviously this does not apply to Maariv for which there is plenty of time afterwards.

↧

A Note Regarding Dayan Simcha Zelig Rieger’s View of Opening a Refrigerator Door on Shabbat

December 31, 2015, 10:06 am

≫ Next: Textual Emendations in Minhag Anglia

≪ Previous: Evening Prayer Revisited

A Note Regarding Dayan Simcha Zelig Rieger’s View

of Opening a Refrigerator Door on Shabbat

Rabbi Michael J. Broyde

Introduction

Thank you to Rabbi Yaacov Sasson for his comments on footnote 59 of the article "The Use of Electricity on Shabbat and Yom Tov" found in the Journal of Halacha and Contemporary Society, 21:4-47 (Spring 1991) co-written by Rabbi Jachter and myself. It is always nice to have people commenting on articles written more than 25 years ago.[1]

Before delving into the halacha, it is worth clarifying some preliminary facts – in particular, whether refrigerators even had automatic lights during the first half of the 1930s. Some commenters have suggested that such lights were not yet present, or that they were limited to rare and expensive refrigerators. This is not correct. I reproduce below a wide variety of newspaper ads from the early 1930s that show that a range of refrigerator models by many manufacturers at various price points featured automatic interior lights (see attachments here). These include a Frigidaire priced at $157.50, a GE priced at $99.50, a Majestic model with no price, a Frigidaire priced at $119.50, a Leonard priced at $114.75 and many more.[2] And while some of the publications appear targeted to the upper class, many others are clearly meant for wider audiences – particularly those available on installment plans (“$5 down, 15¢ a day”; “Nothing down! 20¢ a day!”; “$7 Initial Payment – enables you to enjoy any of these refrigerators immediately. Investigate our convenient budget payment plans.”).[3] Thus, even in the early 1930s, interior lights were a readily available feature in the refrigerators that were becoming increasingly common in American households.[4] Claims that “normal” or “typical” refrigerators did not have lights are belied by the many ads taken from diverse periodicals that are reproduced here.[5]

A Summary of the Original Article

The relevant section of the article is about using refrigerators on Shabbat, and states in part:

A. Refrigerators

The opening of a refrigerator door on Shabbat has been the topic of vigorous debate in past decades. Opening the refrigerator door allows warm air to enter, thus causing a drop in temperature which causes the motor to go on sooner. If one accepts that turning the motor on during Shabbat is prohibited, then it would appear that opening the refrigerator door on Shabbat when the motor is not already⁵⁶ running is prohibited. Indeed, many prominent rabbinic decisors have adopted this position.⁵⁷However, many authorities⁵⁸ assert that one is permitted to open a refrigerator even when the motor is off.⁵⁹

The footnotes to the above-quoted text observe:

56. Opening the door when the motor is already running is permissible because all that is done then is causing the motor to stay on for a longer period of time; see also section V.

57. See Har Zvi 1:151; Mishnat Rabbi Aharon, 1:4; Minchat Yitzchak 3:24; and Chelkat Yaakov, 1:54. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, Yabia Omer 1:21 and Rabbi Yosef Eliyahu Henkin, Edut Leyisrael p. 152, recommend that one be stringent in this regard, although they both accept that it is permissible to open a refrigerator even when the motor is off.

58. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach's argument can be found in his Minchat Shlomo pp. 77-91. Others who are lenient include Rabbi Waldenberg,Tzitz Eliezer 8:12 and 12:92, Rabbi Uziel, Piskei Uziel no. 15. Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein reports that Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik subscribes to the lenient position in this regard.

59. Almost all authorities accept that it is forbidden to open a refrigerator when the light inside will go on. Notwithstanding one's lack of intent to turn on the light when opening the refrigerator, this action is forbidden, since the light will inevitably go on (pesik resha).

However, Rabbi S.Z. Rieger (the Dayan of Brisk) rules leniently in this regard (Hapardes 1934, volume three). His lenient ruling is based on two assumptions. First, he states that when the forbidden act has no benefit to the one who performs it, and it is only incidental (psik resha d'lo nicha leh), no prohibition exists. Rabbi Rieger assumes that the lenient ruling of the Aruch (see Aruch defining the word "sever") is accepted. Second, Rabbi Rieger states that the light in the refrigerator provides no benefit to the one opening the door.

His first assumption is disputed by most authorities (see Yabia Omer 1:21,5; Minchat Shlomo p. 87). The consensus appears not to accept theAruch's ruling as normative. The second assertion appears to be entirely incorrect. The light serves as a convenience to locate items in the refrigerator and cannot be described as having no benefit to one who opens the door.

Most authorities, however, maintain that it is acceptable to ask a Gentile to open the door of the refrigerator even if the light will go on: see Iggerot Moshe, Orach Chaim 2:68; and Shemirat Shabbat Kehilchatah pp. 100-101.So too, it would appear to these authors that one could allow a fellow Jew to open the door when he does not know the light will go on, as that is only in the category of mitasek (unknowing) and thus permitted; see e.g.,Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Shiurim Lezeicher Avi Mori, p.30 n. 58; but see Teshuvot R. Akiva Eiger #9.

(bold emphasis added)

Rabbi Sasson’s Criticism

Rabbi Sasson is commenting on the words in the second paragraph of footnote 59 (the bold sentences above). He proposes that the article is wrong in its understanding of the view of Dayan Simcha Zelig Rieger who did not, he claims, permit the turning on of the light in the refrigerator, but only the motor. Rabbi Sasson states:

Lo hayu dvarim me-olam. Rav Simcha Zelig did not permit opening a refrigerator when the light inside will go on. Rav Simcha Zelig wrote (Hapardes 1934, num. 3, page 6) that it is permitted to open the refrigerator since the intention is to remove an item, "v’aino mechavein lehadlik et ha-elektri." The authors misinterpreted this statement to be a reference to an electric light in the refrigerator.

And his argument is:

As an additional proof, he notes:

In the second of those articles (Hapardes 1931, num. 3 page 6), the act of triggering the motor is referred to as "havara" and "havara b'zerem ha-chashmali", and Rav Simcha Zelig used a similar nomenclature, "lehadlik et ha-elektri" to refer to triggering the motor.

Based on this Rabbi Sasson concludes:

Rav Simcha Zelig's position was that it is permitted to open a refrigerator when the motor will then go on, as triggering the motor is classified as a psik resha d'lo ichpat lei, which is equivalent to lo nicha lei. Rav Simcha Zelig never addressed opening a refrigerator when the light will go on.

(footnotes omitted)

A Review of the Teshuva and a Defense of the Second Paragraph of Footnote Fifty Nine

The relevant paragraph of the teshuva by Dayan Rieger reads simply:

ובדבר התבת קרח מלאכותי נראה כיון דכשפותח את דלת התיבה הוא כדי לקבל משם איזו דבר ואינו מכיון להדליק את העלעקטרי הוי פסיק רישיה דלא איכפת ליה אפילו להדליק אם הוא באופן שהוא פסיק רישיה.

And in the matter of the artificial [electric] icebox it appears that since when one opens the door of the box to get something from there and does not intend to ignite (light) the electricity it is a psik resha that he does not care about, even to light in way that is a psik resha.

The rest of the teshuva by Dayan Rieger presents his view of the halacha in cases in which there is a psik resha d’lo ichpat lei, which is that this is a dispute between Tosaphot and the Aruch. Furthermore, Rav Chaim M’brisk maintains that the Rambam is in agreement with the Aruch, and the custom is like the Aruch; therefore, it is completely proper to rely on the Aruch in cases in which there is a psik resha d’lo nicha lei.[6]

A careful reader of the first sentence, and indeed of the entire teshuva, can sense that there is some ambiguity here about the electrical object referred to, since Dayan Rieger does not specify the source or consequence of igniting the electricity. I am inclined to reinforce the original explanation that it was the light based on the following three observations.

First, the many articles in Hapardes do not necessarily use as interchangeable the terms zerem chashmali or chut chashmali or chut elektriki with the term hidlik et haelektrik – which seems to have a different connotation. Particularly in the Yiddish spoken culture of that time, the term “electric” seems to have meant “lights” and not electricity or motor. Rabbi Sasson’s claim that the phrase "havara b'zerem ha-chashmali" and Rav Simcha Zelig phrase "lehadlik et ha-elektri" are identical is, I think, not indubitably correct. Elektriki, according to my colleague at Emory, Professor Nick Block, more likely means the light than anything else in 1930s Yiddish. This is particularly true in my opinion, when added to the word “le’hadlik,” a word of ignition.

Second, and much more importantly, the halachic analysis presented by Dayan Rieger addresses a direct action, while everyone else who discusses the motor speaks about an indirect action. This is very important to grasp. The light in the refrigerator immediately turns on when the door is opened, as the opening of the door also opens the switch that controls the incandescent light. Not so the motor, which is controlled by a thermostat; opening the door usually leads to an increase of air temperature inside the refrigerator, which eventually directs the motor to go on.

As the editor of Hapardes notes (in volume 5), there are persuasive grounds to permit the opening of the refrigerator door based on two distinct principles of enormous halachic importance that are deeply grounded in factual reality: davar she’eno mitkaven and grama; it is based on this that many poskim to this day permit a refrigerator door to be opened, as our article from 25 years ago notes.

Simply put, many times when the refrigerator is opened, the motor does not go on at all, since for the motor to go on immediately, the refrigerator must be at just a certain temperature such that the warm air immediately causes the thermostat to turn the motor on. Sometimes the motor is already on, sometimes the motor is not hastened, and sometimes there is a very long time delay. This reality gives rise to important halachic grounds discussed in our article and quoted by many poskim, including many before and after the great Dayan Rieger.

But Dayan Rieger makes no mention of this: he does not discuss grama, or davar she’eno mitkaven or any of these other factors that apply to indirect action. Instead, he assumes that when the refrigerator door is opened, the electrical object under discussion is always ignited, and it does so immediately and directly, thus causing a melacha. This is the formulation of pesik resha,which inexorably causes melacha each and every time -- in contrast to grama, davar she’eno mitkaven or any other principles of indirect or delayed or uncertain causation.

Dayan Rieger is not speaking about acts caused indirectly, uncertainly or after a delay – he is speaking about an action that directly and immediately occurs and is fully and directly caused by my opening the door. As he writes in his first paragraph:

ובדבר התבת קרח מלאכותי נראה כיון דכשפותח את דלת התיבה הוא כדי לקבל משם איזו דבר ואינו מכיון להדליק את העלעקטרי הוי פסיק רישיה דלא איכפת ליה אפילו להדליק אם הוא באופן שהוא פסיק רישיה.

No intermediary (like a thermostat) and no indirect or delayed causation is present in the case Dayan Rieger is discussing – the prohibited action is caused by the door opening. The act of opening the door turns on the elektri according to Dayan Rieger. His halachic insight is that even when such causation is direct, it is of no value to the opener of the door, who just wants to take some food out; it is a psik resha of no benefit. Factually, this is not an accurate description of the motor at all, which frequently does not turn on immediately, but it does correctly describe the mechanism of the refrigerator light. Dayan Rieger implicitly concedes that if one were to open the door with the intent to turn on the light (or motor), that would be assur min ha-torah, since he sees no indirect causation in the process, something that most poskim think is not at all true for the motor.

Professor Sara Reguer noted by email to me that “my grandfather conferred with scientists and specialists in electricity before giving his response,” and given this fact it is extremely unlikely that he missed such a basic point that anyone who repeatedly opened and closed a refrigerator would have observed. This was simply not true about refrigerator motors as the original question notes explicitly in Hapardes Volume 2. This technological assumption about the refrigerator is true about the light, which always turns on when the door is opened, but not about the motor.

I would also note two additional factors for consideration. First, the other substantive halachic logic employed by Dayan Rieger which analogizes elektriki to sparks seems to me to be a closer analogy to a light than to a motor which is hardly fire at all; sparks, like incandescent lights, are fire according to halacha. Secondly, there has been a regular subset of poskim (as shown by Rabbi Abadi’s most recent teshuva, Ohr Yitzchak 2:166) who adopt the exact analysis and view of Dayan Rieger and view the light as lo ichpat since one does not want it and a light is on already. If Dayan Rieger is speaking about the motor, he has gotten the facts terribly wrong as well as provided a halachic chiddushthat is totally unneeded, whereas if he is speaking about the light, he has adopted a halachic view that has some company, and gotten the facts correct. Furthermore, his halachic analysis is needed to reach the desired result.

Given these factors – the linguistic ambiguity, the presence of logic that is discussing a psik resha and not a grama or a davar she’eno mitkaven, the analogy to sparks and the parallel teshuva by Rabbi Abadi reaching the same conclusion and employing the same logic for lights – I am still inclined to think (as the original article notes) that this teshuva is speaking about the light and not the motor.

On the other hand, there is a good and natural impulse to read halachic literature conservatively and to press for interpretations that align gedolim with one other and not leave outliers with halachic novelty.[7] Furthermore, I do recognize that many halachic authorities who have cited Dayan Rieger’s teshuva have quoted it in the context of the motor and not the light,^,as Rabbi Sasson claims is the proper reading.[8] But, I think these citations are less than dispositive for the following important reason: Those who quote Dayan Rieger’s view as something to consider about the motor note that his analysis is halachically wrong (see for example, both Yabia Omer OC 1:21 [paragraphs 7-11 are explicitly directly at explaining why Dayan Riegler’s halachic explanation for motors is wrong] and Minchat Shlomo 1:10 [section 7 calls this logic אולם לענ"ד צ"ע הרבה] who both note deep problems with Dayan Reigler’s analysis as applied to the motor).[9] Poskim generally spend less time and ink explicating the views of authorities whom they believe to have reached inapt or incorrect conclusions of fact or law compared with those whom they cite in whole or in part to bolster their own analysis. Simply put, the precedential value of how one posek cites another when they centrally disagree is not as great.

Thus, when given two choices of how to understand what an eminent posek wrote, I prefer an approach that is both halachically plausible and factually correct rather than one what is halachically unneeded and factually wrong.[10]

Conclusion

In sum, while there is some ambiguity in Dayan Rieger’s teshuva, the recent (ca. 1930) introduction of lights in refrigerators, the fact that Dayan Rieger makes no mention of grama, davar she’eno mitkaven or any of the other classical grounds for discussing the motor, and from the fact that he uses the Yiddish word for light, all incline me to think that he is speaking about the light, although I understand the ambiguity. Let me add, lehalacha, as the original article notes, that I think such a view is not halachically normative in that we do not follow the view of the Aruch as a general matter.

Having said all that, in hindsight I would have worded footnote 59 a bit differently to reflect more of the nuance that is present in this post (and may in fact do so if the article is ever republished).

Postscript

Allow me to note my general agreement with Rabbi Sasson’s conclusion when he writes:

I would add two endnotes - when surveying Halachot with significant practical implications, such as in the realm of Hilchot Shabbat, it is an author's responsibility to ensure that all sources are cited accurately, lest a reader rely on an incorrect citation with the result of Chillul Shabbat. Secondly, when confronted with a Halachic position of a Gadol B'Yisrael that seems to be entirely erroneous, the possibility that the Gadol's position is being misunderstood must be explored.

This is true even when the citation is in a footnote and even when it is noted as not normative. More generally, readers of blog posts about nuanced textual disputes should, whenever they can, go back to the original sources and check for themselves. (The editors of the Seforim Blog should be commended for helping their contributors include images of such texts for the benefit of the readership.)

Let me also add a final endnote of my own: While vigorous debate has always been a fundamental part of Torah study within the confines of the beit midrash, and while online forums have brought intelligent Torah conversations to a much wider group of participants (and observers), the tone and tenor of these conversations often take on the harsh, acerbic voice of the internet at large. I generally find that the sharper the rhetorical tone, the less value the substance has. Orthodox Judaism today would benefit greatly from deep, substantive conversations on a whole host of halachic and hashkafic matters that are conducted in a respectful manner. We certainly could use more light and less heat.

[1] Located here.

[2] In 2015 dollars, these range from about $1400 to $2200; see CPI Inflation Calculator here. They are not inexpensive, but seem to be attainable for middle-class consumers.

[3] See attached advertisements here.

[4] Indeed, the number of household refrigerators increased dramatically during the Depression years, as increased longevity and reduced spoilage helped stretch family food budgets.

[5] Nor are these refrigerators more expensive than any other as the ads show. The reason for this is obvious, upon reflection. The compressor was the expensive, high-tech component at that time, whereas the spring switch light connected to the door had been invented many years earlier and was very low cost.

[6] The final section addresses ice making and it is not under discussion in this article.

[7] For more on this, see the concluding chapter of my ‘Innovation in Jewish Law: A Case Study of Chiddush in Havineinu” (Urim Publiscations 2010).

[8]Added to this is the voice of Dayan Reiger’s granddaughter, Professor Sara Reuger, who tells me that she is certain that this teshuva is referring to the thermostat or motor and not the light. However, I was not persuaded by her recollection since she had no direct conversation with her grandfather about this and is only recalling conversations with her own father and (as explained above) this view places Dayan Reiger’s teshuva in a weak halachic light analytically (as well as other reasons).

[9] For another example of this, see Hapardes volume 11:2 at page 8-10.

[10] Another possibility was suggested to me by Professor Miriam Udel of Emory who noted that the Hebrew term “התבת קרח מלאכותי” corresponds well to the Yiddish term ayz-kastn which is really a very early refrigerator (ice chest). Ice chests were pre-modern refrigerators that had no electricity at all, but were cooled by ice; see here andhere By 1925 companies were selling add-on kits to these ice chests that contained an external motor which cooled a coil insert. See the article in the Washington Post, August 9, 1925 entitled “Modern Electric Plant Displaces Need For Ice Man: Its Refrigeration” at page F7. See also Display Ad 18 -- No Title Chicago Daily Tribune (1923-1963); Jun 14, 1925 (attached) which notes simply “If you have a good refrigerator in your home, you can convert it into a Frigidaire easily and inexpensively. The Frigidaire “frost coil” is placed in the ice compartment; the simple mechanism is the basement or other convenient location. Small copper tubes connect the frost coil and compressor and a connection is made to your electric wiring.” This converted ice box, to the best of my knowledge, had no mechanism related to the door being open at all. (The interior ice compartment would have remained closed.) Dayan Reiger could not have been speaking about this, as he is addressing a door mechanism and not a hot-air-entering-the-refrigerator problem.

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Textual Emendations in Minhag Anglia

January 3, 2016, 8:35 am

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Textual Emendations in Minhag Anglia

Harry Freedman

Harry Freedman’s The Talmud: A Biography is published by Bloomsbury Publications. His next book, The Murderous History of Bible Translations will be published by Bloomsbury in 2016

In his book Changing the Immutable Mac Shapiro notes that, for reasons of propriety, the Birnbaum siddur transliterates the words מי רגליים in פטום הקטרת[1], instead of translating them. Philip Birnbaum was not the only translator to be troubled by these words.

In 1890 Rev. Simeon Singer produced a prayer book in London, with the sanction and authorisation of Chief Rabbi Nathan Marcus Adler. Singer’s object was to produce ‘a correct text and satisfactory translation’ which could be used in ‘Synagogues, families and schools.’[2] Singer used Yitzhok (Seligman) Baer’s Avodat Yisrael as his base text.

As befits a prestigious Victorian publication, Singer’s siddur was grandly entitled The Authorised Prayer Book of the United Hebrew Congregations of the British Empire. Known ever since as The Singer’s, it became and remains the defining text of Minhag Anglia.

Notwithstanding its source in the gemara, and the fact that מי רגליים is itself a euphemism, its translation must have been considered unsuitable for inclusion in Singer’s family friendly siddur. But unlike Birnbaum he did not transliterate the Hebrew words. Instead he just left out the entire translation of והלא מי רגליים יפין לה אלא שאין מכניסין מי רגליים בעזרה מפני הכבוד. He left his readers with no explanatory note as to what he had done.

In 1904 Arthur Davis and Herbert Adler published a set of machzorim. Popularly known as the Routledge machzorim they served for many years as minhag anglia’s definitive yomtov texts. They followed Singer in omitting the entire translation of והלא מי רגליים יפין לה אלא שאין מכניסין מי רגליים בעזרה מפני הכבוד.

By 1939 Singer’s siddur had run to its 16^th impression. Now under the auspices of Chief Rabbi J.H. Hertz, those mitpallelimaccustomed to saying פטום הקטרת would have been bemused to find the final sentence missing, not just in English, but now also in Hebrew. Dayan Ivan Binstock, the Minhag Anglia editor of the Sacks Koren machzorim, suggests that Hertz required this change for consistency, to bring the Hebrew and English into line. The alternative remedy, of adding an English translation to the extant Hebrew, was clearly not appropriate.

This was not Chief Rabbi Hertz’s only editorial amendment. He substantially reduced the Prayer for the Government (in England this was known as the Prayer for the Royal Family). Amongst other omissions he removed הפוצה דוד עבדו מחרב רעה and significantly reduced the number of verbs required to elevate and protect the monarch. Possibly, such over-anxious concern for the monarch’s welfare was not deemed appropriate for the still-powerful British Empire.

Chief Rabbi Hertz had his own concerns about indelicacy. In the siddur with commentary that he published in 1946 he too omitted all mention, in Hebrew and English, of מי רגליים. But he also ameliorated the words of the Shabbat shacharit Amidah. In the Hertz siddur, the ערלים who do not dwell in the Sabbath’s rest[3] have become רשעים. In his commentary Hertz notes that ‘for many centuries most prayer books had this reading instead of ערלים, which recent editions, through the influence of Baer, have reintroduced’.[4]

לא ישכנו רשעיםis found in a number of siddurim including R. Shlomo Ganzfried’s Avodat Yisrael, R. Yehudah Leib ben Meir Gordon’s Beit Yehuda and R. Yosef Teumim’s Higayon Lev. R. Yaakov Emden[5] and R. Chaim Elazar Spira[6], amongst others, argue against it on the grounds that whereas ערלים are not obligated to keep the mitzvah of Shabbat, many רשעים are.

Baer, whom Hertz holds responsible for the current use of ערלים, states in a footnote: ערלים: כן הנוסחא בכל ס"י (=ספרי ישנים) ובסדורי ספרדים וברמב"ם.[7] Hertz’s choice of רשעים in place of reflects at best a minority opinion and has neither precedent nor subsequent in Minhag Anglia. It was almost certainly introduced for reasons of propriety.

In 2006 a fourth edition of the Singer’s siddur was published with a new translation by Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. For the first time in the history of Minhag Anglia, פטום הקטרת was printed in full, including the final sentence, in both Hebrew and English. מי רגליים may have not have been brought to the azarah מפני הכבוד but in our more plain-speaking age its restitution to פטום הקטרת seems just as much to be an expression of כבוד.

[1] B. Keritot 6a.

[2]Preface to 1^st edition of the Authorised Daily Prayer Book, ed. Simeon Singer, London 1890

[3]וגם במנוחתו לא ישכנו ערלים

[4] J.H. Hertz, Authorised Daily Prayer Book with Commentary, p 458-9

[5]לוח ארש, 312

[6]מאמר נוסח התפילה, 23

[7]Siddur Avodat Yisrael, 5628 edition p. 219.

↧

The Yom Tov Lecture of R. Eliezer Hagadol

January 12, 2016, 8:09 am

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The Yom Tov Lecture of R. Eliezer Hagadol

By Chaim Katz, Montreal

Our Rabbis taught in a baraita: R. Eliezer was sitting and lecturing about the laws of the festivals the entire day. A first group left and he said: these people own pithoi (huge storage containers). A second group left and he said: these people own amphorae (smaller storage containers). A third group left . . . A forth group left . . . A fifth group . . . When a sixth group started to leave. . . He looked towards his students and their faces turned white. He said: “my children, I wasn’t speaking to you, but to those who left, who abandon eternal life and busy themselves with mundane life.” When the students were dismissed he said to them: “Go, eat delicacies, and drink sweet drinks . . . for today is a holy day . . .”

The baraita has: “who abandon eternal life and busy themselves with mundane life”. But isn’t the joy of the festival a mitzva? Rabbi Eliezer’s opinion is that joy of the festival is a reshut as was taught: Rabbi Eliezer says: A person on Yom Tov has no way except to eat and drink or to sit and study [Torah]. R. Yehoshua says: divide [the time], half for eating and drinking and half for the study hall. (Betza 15b) [1]

To summarize: 1) R. Eliezer was critical of those who walked out during his lecture. 2) R. Eliezer’s criticism is in agreement with his opinion that eating on the festival is not a mitzvah. 3) However, he believes that eating is valid on a holiday and is equivalent to study on a holiday. 4) R. Eliezer encourages his students to eat delicacies and drink sweet beverages after the lecture has ended.

Something doesn’t seem right.

In his book on R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus , Professor Yitzhak D Gilat, writes:

From R. Eliezer’s reaction to the groups leaving the study-room, it appears that the alternative of eating and drinking is merely a hypothetical one . . . In practice he disapproves of it. [2]

I think there is another way to reconcile the different aspects of the story but first some background:

The definition of a derasha (the term for R. Eliezer’s lecture) is a talk (usually related to the current Sabbath or holiday) that was delivered to the general public. It had a standard form, and was delivered at a specific time. [3]

An eye-witness description of a derasha from the time of the Gaonimexists: [4]

The head of the yeshiva of Sura opens the lecture (with a verse) and the meturgamanstands near to him and proclaims his words to the people. When the head of the yeshivalectures, he lectures with awe. He closes his eyes and wraps himself in his tallit, even his forehead is covered. While he lectures, no one in the congregation makes a sound or says a word. If he senses that someone in the audience is speaking, he opens his eyes and a dread of trembling falls upon the entire congregation...

The derasha was delivered either at night (the eve of yontov), or in the morning (after the Torah Reading) or during the afternoon [5].

R. Eliezer probably did not lecture the entire day, [דורשכלהיוםכולו]. He probably lectured for only part of the day. Parallels prove this point:

1. They said about R. Yohanan ben Zakai that he was sitting in the shade of the Temple sanctuary lecturing the entire day. (Pesahim 26a)

דתניא אמרו עליו על רבן יוחנן בן זכאי שהיה יושב בצילו של היכל ודורש כל היום כולו

R. Yohanan b Zakai couldn’t have sat in the shade all day unless he started on the west of the heichal and later moved himself (and the audience) to the eastern side of the heichal. It’s likely that his derasha took place in the afternoon, when shadows extend towards the east. [6]

2. They immediately sat him [Hillel] at the head and appointed him nassi over them [the Sanhedrin]. He lectured the entire day on the laws of Passover. (Pesahim 66a)

מיד הושיבוהו בראש ומינוהו נשיא עליהם. והיה דורש כל היום כולו בהלכות הפסח

As the Gemarah describes, they first searched for someone who could tell them what to do when the eve of Passover falls on the Sabbath. They found Hillel. They interviewed him. He presented his arguments, but his reasoning was rejected. He argued a different way and his reasoning and halakha were accepted. They offered him the leadership of the Sanhedrin and he accepted. They gathered the people and he gave the derasha. All that must have taken some time, which leads to the conclusion that he also lectured during the second part of the day.

To summarize:

1) The people who attended the derasha were mainly regular shul-goers – members of the community.

2) Although R. Eliezer’s disciples where also present, the people who left the lecture before it ended were the regular shul-goers. [7]

3) R. Eliezer’s lecture took up only part of the day. Based on the expressionדורש כל היום כולו , the derasha probably took place in the latter part of the afternoon, (like the derashot of his teacher and his teacher’s teacher).

4) Therefore, we can conclude that R. Eliezer expected his congregants to eat a yomtov meal and they most probably already did so before the derasha started. He holds that you can observe the holiday either by eating or by learning Torah – but neither of these activities has to last the entire day.

The climax of the story, the phrase “they abandon eternal life and busy themselves with mundane life”, also needs to be explained. The sentence is used a number of times in the Talmud, but it has a bit of a different meaning each time it’s used. The primary sense is in Taanit 21a: Ilfa and R. Yohanan decide to leave the beit-ha midrash in search of a more financially secure lifestyle. At the start of their journey, an angel is heard saying, they are “abandoning eternal life and occupying themselves with mundane.”

However, in our story the simple straightforward meaning doesn’t fit. Howwere the congregants abandoning eternal life by leaving the lecture early? They certainly heard more Torah on this day than they heard on a regular work day. And why were they more engaged in the mundane today while eating a holiday meal compared to when they eat a normal week-day meal on any other day? [8]

Which leads to another point - we aren’t very familiar with R. Eliezer and his halakhic opinions. We know he had an affinity for Beit Shammai (and was maybe the last of the Beit Shammai) and we know that the sages and most of his own disciples distanced themselves from him and his teachings were not preserved. [9]

R. Shaul Lieberman in his commentary to the Tosefta of Berakhot, tells us something about R. Eliezer that I believe is the key to understanding our story.

We read in the Tosefta (Berakhot 4:1):

לא ישתמש אדם בפניו ידיו ורגליו אלא לכבוד קונהו שנא' (משלי טז) כל פעל ה'למענהו

One should not use his face hands or feet but in honor of his Maker as it says: Everything G-d creates, He creates for its specific purpose. (Proverbs 16:4)

Professor Lieberman explains: [10]

לפיפשוטומשמעושלאישתמשאדםבהםלהנאתוגרידאאלאלכבודשמיםואםהואעושהכןהריכבודשמיםמתירןלובהנאה.

A person is not to act solely for his own pleasure but is to act for the honor of heaven. When he acts this way, his intention for the sake of heaven grants him a license to enjoy the pleasure.

R. Lieberman continues and demonstrates that this is the position of Hillel. However Shammai has a different approach; Shammai regards physical pleasure as something to be accepted only grudgingly or maybe even involuntarily:

Everything you do should be for the sake of Heaven, like Hillel. . . . “Where are you going Hillel”, “I’m going to do a mitzvah.” “What mitzvah Hillel?” “I’m going to the bath-house.” “Is that a mitzvah”, “Yes . . . ”

But Shammai wouldn’t say that, rather he would say “let us fulfill our obligation to this body of ours.” [11]

Prof. Lieberman points out that R. Eliezer follows and practices the teaching of Shammai. [12]

Returning now to our story: R. Eliezer however, views the yontov food like ordinary week-day food, i.e. שמחת יום טוב רשות, and being an ordinary meal, the physical pleasure of the food or drink cannot be fully enjoyed. [13]

R. Eliezer expects his community to follow his own rulings and practices. [14] He suspects that the groups who left before the lecture concluded were returning home to drink wine and enjoy tasty food for the physical pleasure of eating and drinking. They were abandoning eternal life – the life of eating purely without thinking of the physical pleasure and were engaged in the temporal life of self-indulgence. [15]

Yet, R. Eliezer could still be conciliatory to his students and encourage them to eat and drink delicacies in honor of the holiday because he knew they would eat their food in a befitting way and live up to his teaching and principals.

I believe it’s possible to clarify the positions of R. Eliezer based on writings of Maimonides. [16] Starting with Sefer Ha Mitzvot:

ואחרי עיניכם - זו זנותשנאמר:ויאמר שמשון אל אביווגו' (שופטים יד, ג (הכוונה באמרם זו זנות רדיפת התענוגות והתאות הגופניות והעסקת המחשבה בהן תמיד.

The Sifre interprets . . . don't follow after your eyes (Numbers 15:39) this refers to promiscuity (zenut) . . . including the pursuit of pleasure and pursuit of physical gratification as well as the constant wishful thinking about them. [17]

In the Guide, Maimonides expands this point. [18]

There are some – a partition separates between them and G-d, the collection of dimwits, who suppress their faculty of thinking about ideas, who pursue only the sensory feeling which is our greatest disgrace – the sense of touch. They have no thought or notion except for thoughts of eating, sex and nothing else . . .

In contrast, the ideal person whom everyone should emulate fits the following profile [19]

[people] for whom all compulsory materialness is humiliating and disgraceful; a flaw which is forced upon them, especially the sense of touch, which is humiliating to us as Aristotle wrote, that moves us to desire eating, drinking and sexual acts, which must be minimized as much as possible. One must be discreet and pained when engaged in it, not make it the subject of our speech, not talk about it freely, not sit in assemblies for these purposes but rather control of all of these needs and reduce them to the essential minimum as much as we can.

R. Eliezer follows this ideal. I would argue this is not asceticism. R. Eliezer is doing the same things that everyone else does. His feelings are different (and that affects his behavior somewhat), but his feelings follow from his understanding of the Torah’s instruction: לא תתורו,and by definition, carrying out the rules of the Torah is not called asceticism.

In the 5^th chapter of the introduction to his commentary on Abot, Maimonides speaks about dedicating one’s actions for the sake of heaven, לשםשמיים: [20]

Know that this level is an outstanding and difficult accomplishment that is reached by very few, after very much practice. If there is a man who behaves this way I don’t consider him inferior to the prophets. Someone who uses all of his powers and directs them solely for the sake of G-d, who doesn’t perform any big or small activity or speak a word unless that activity or word brings one toward virtue . . .

Maimonides’ idea of “for the sake of heaven” is that certain activities are forbidden unless they are performed for the sake of heaven. These activities include listening to music, studying science, spending time on appreciating art or nature and others like them.

For “required” mundane activities like eating, bathing and so on, the intention for the sake of heaven is also necessary and permits two things. 1) It allows more elaborate activities (e.g., to eat a tasty more elaborate meal, as in Baba Kama 72a- אכילנא בשרא דתורא). 2) It also allows one to enjoy the pleasure associated with the activity according to Hillel. As we’ve seen, R. Eliezer disagrees with the second point. [21]

Rabbi Moshe Sokol defines Neutralism: [22]

Pleasure in itself is neither good nor bad. Pleasurable activities are also, in themselves, neither good nor evil. Pleasurable activities derive their value only instrumentally, either by considering the consequences . . . or by considering the intentions of the person engaging in the pleasurable activity . . .

I believe that R. Eliezer is also a neutralist because he is not forbidding any permitted pleasurable activity. If a “mundane” pleasurable activity is clearly a mitzvah, (eating matzahat the seder(?)), then I would guess the pleasure can probably be enjoyed. If it’s not a mitzvah then the pleasure can’t be enjoyed.

I saw a midrashic source, which at first glance seems to describe R. Eliezer’s asceticism.

The Beit Hamidrash of R. Eliezer was shaped like a stadium. There was a special stone there which was reserved for R. Eliezer to sit on. Once R. Yehoshua came in and began to kiss the stone saying this stone is like Mount Sinai and the one who sat on it is like the Ark of the Covenant. [23]

Why did R. Eliezer sit on a stone? But this is an invalid question. Everyone in the beit-hamidrash sat on the floor and this had nothing to do with asceticism (see Yevamot 105b). The teacher however didn’t sit on the floor but sat a little higher, maybe on a stone like this one [see note 24].

The same midrash describes R. Eliezer’s school:

One time R. Aqiba was late in coming to the beithamidrash. He sat outside. A question was asked. They said the halakha is outside . . . the Torah is outside . . . Aqiba is outside. They cleared a way and he came and sat in front of the feet of R. Eliezer. [25]

It sounds like the students sat (cross-legged) on the ground in concentric circles around R. Eliezer. R. Eliezer sat (cross-legged) on his stone and R. Aqiba (the most senior student) sat directly at R. Eliezer’s feet. [26]

If this arrangement was also in place during R. Eliezer’s derasha, then the first group – the group of congregants that left the earliest were probably sitting (on the ground) on the outermost concentric circle closest to the exit so that they could easily make their get-away. The other groups (who were also planning on leaving early), also sat on the ground nearer to the exit. The students however, who planned on staying until the end sat closest to their teacher R. Eliezer.

[1]

ת"ר מעשה ברבי אליעזר שהיה יושב ודורש כל היום כולו בהלכות יום טוב יצתה כת ראשונה אמר הללו בעלי פטסין כת שניה אמר הללו בעלי חביות כת שלישית אמר הללו בעלי כדין כת רביעית אמר הללו בעלי לגינין כת חמישית אמר הללו בעלי כוסות התחילו כת ששית לצאת אמר הללו בעלי מארה נתן עיניו בתלמידים התחילו פניהם משתנין אמר להם בני לא לכם אני אומר אלא להללו שיצאו שמניחים חיי עולם ועוסקים בחיי שעה בשעת פטירתן אמר להם לכו אכלו משמנים ושתו ממתקים ושלחו מנות לאין נכון לו כי קדוש היום לאדונינו ואל תעצבו כי חדות ה'היא מעוזכם

אמר מר שמניחין חיי עולם ועוסקין בחיי שעה והא שמחת יום טוב מצוה היא רבי אליעזר לטעמיה דאמר שמחת יום טוב רשות דתניא רבי אליעזר אומר אין לו לאדם ביום טוב אלא או אוכל ושותה או יושב ושונה ר'יהושע אומר חלקהו חציו לאכילה ושתיה וחציו לבית המדרש.

[2] Yitzhak D Gilat, R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus A Scholar Outcast Bar-Ilan University press 1984, p 279 (English edition).

[3] In the Practical Talmud Dictionary by Rabbi Yitzhak Frank, s.v.דורשthis example is quoted (Sota 40a):

R. Abbahu and R. Hiyya b Abba happened to come to a certain town. R. Abbahu taught aggada; R. Hiyya b Abba taught halakha. Everyone abandoned R. Hiyya b. Abba and went to hear R. Abbahu.

רבי אבהו דרש באגדתא רבי חייא בר אבא דרש בשמעתא שבקוה כולי עלמא לרבי חייא בר אבא ואזול לגביה דר'אבהו

[4] Quoted on page 1 of the introduction to Sheiltot d’Rav Achai ed. Rabbi Samuel K. Mirsky (Jerusalem, 1960) from Medieval Jewish ChroniclesSeder ha-Ḥakhamim ve-Korot ha-Yamim, (Part ii, page 84) edited by Adolf (Avrohom) Neubauer.

עדשפותחראשישיבתסוראוהתורגמןעומדעליוומשמיעדבריולעם. וכשדורשדורשבאימהוסותםאתעיניו

ומחעטףבטליחועדשהואמכסהפדחחו. ולאיהיהבקהלבשעהשהואדורשפוצהפהומצפעףומדברדבר .וכשירגישבאדםשמדברפותחאתעיניוונופלעלהקהלאימהורעדה. וכשהואגומרמתחילבבעיאואומר

[5] R. Ezra Zion Melamed in Mavo Lsifrut Hatalmud page 74. (However the derasha of the head of the Sura Yeshiva on the occasion of the nomination of the exilarch (previous note) was given before the reading the Torah.)

[6] Mishna Midot 2:1

הר הבית היה חמש מאות אמה על חמש מאות אמהרובו מן הדרום, והשני לו מן המזרח, והשלישי לו מן הצפון, ומיעוטו מן המערב. מקום שהיה רוב מידתו, שם היה רוב תשמישו.

The temple mount was five hundred cubits by five hundred cubits. Most of the free space was on the south; then on the east; then on the north; and the smallest area was on the west. The larger the area the more it was used.

[7] Artscroll translated: the first group of students left . . . the second group of students . . .

[8] The same phrase also appears in Shabbat 10a and there too the plain meaning doesn’t fit well:

Rava saw R. Hamnuna prolonging his prayers and said: They abandon eternal life and busy themselves with the mundane.

Aside from the plural language, how could one describe prayer (service of the heart (Taanit 3a)) as “mundane”? A friend (res) suggested that if this is the same Rav Hamnuna who was criticized by Rav Huna for being single (Kiddushin 29b) and if he still wasn't married by now then Rava might be telling him that he is abandoning eternal life (marriage and potential children), and busy with prayer , which is temporal because it benefits only himself. Or if it’s the same Rav Hamnuna who in Berakot 31a taught an approach to prayer based on Hannah's prayer, then maybe Rava, who was a descendent of Eli the Priest (Rosh Hashana 18a - manuscripts), like his forbearer, misunderstood this type of prayer and considered it to be mundane.

[9] R. Ezra Zion Melamed, Pirkey Mavo Lsifrut Hatalmud (Jerusalem 5733), p. 64.

[10] R. Saul LiebermanTosefta kiPheshuto, Berakhot, p. 56, explaining the beginning of the 4^th chapter.

[11] Solomon Schechter ed, Abot de-Rabbi Nathan, Vienna, 1887, Recession B, chapter 30. Page 33b

שמאי לאהיה אומר כך אלא יעשה חובותינו עם הגוףהזה

[12] Nedarim 20b

[13] Mishna Betzah (5:2), reshut is a voluntary type of action that has a certain dimension of mitvah-bility to it.

כלשחייביןעליומשוםשבות, ומשוםרשות, ומשוםמצוהבשבת--חייביןעליוביוםטובאלוהםמשוםרשות--לאדנין, ולאולא מקדשין, ולא חולצין, ולא מייבמין

[14] R. Eliezer also said: one may cut down trees to make charcoal for manufacturing iron tools to perform a circumcision on the Sabbath . . . Our Rabbis taught: In R. Eliezer's locality they would follow his teaching and cut down trees to make charcoal to make iron tools to circumcise a child on the Sabbath - Shabbath130a

[15] Rambam Shebitat Yom Tov 6:18 writes:

The people gather early in the morning in the synagogues and houses of study. They say the prayers, read the Torah relevant to the day and return home to eat. They go to the houses of study, read [Torah], recite [Mishna] until after noon. They say the afternoon prayers and return home to eat and drink for the remainder of the day and night.

R. Kapah notes that they return home to eat (after shaharit), but return home to eat and drink after the minha prayer. Here too, R. Eliezer mentions the household items used mainly to store wine.

[16] I assume that vis-à-vis these philosophical teachings, there was no “rupture and reconstruction” to interrupt between the times of Chazal and Rambam.

[17] Sefer HaMitzvoth, (Neg. 47) Rabbi Kapah’s edition:

"ואחרי עיניכם" - זו זנותשנאמר:ויאמר שמשון אל אביווגו' (שופטים יד, ג (הכוונה באמרם זו זנות רדיפת התענוגות והתאות הגופניות והעסקת המחשבה בהן תמיד.

[18] Guide section III, chapter 8, R. Kapah’s edition. (R. Kapah, in his Sefer Hamitvot points out this parallel)

אבלהאחריםשמסךמבדילבינםלביןה'והםעדתהסכלים, הריבהפךזה, ביטלוכלהתבוננותומחשבהבמושכל, ועשותכליתםאותוהחושאשרהואחרפתנוהגדולה, כלומר: חושהמישוש, ואיןלהםמחשבהולארעיוןכיאםבאכילהותשמישלאיותר

[19] Guide section III, chapter 8, R. Kapah’s edition.

כל הכרחי החומר אצלם חרפה וגנאי ומגרעות שההכרח מחייבם, ובפרט חוש המישוש אשר הוא חרפה לנו כפי שאמראריסטו אשר בו מתאווים אנו האכילה והשתייה והתשמיש, שראוי למעט בו ככל האפשר, ולהסתתר בו ולהצטערבעשייתו. ושלא ייחד בכך שיחה ולא ירחיב בו דיבור, ולא יקהל לדברים אלה, אלא יהיה האדם שולט על כל הצרכים הללו, וממעט בהן ככל יכולתו, ולא יקח מהן כי אם מה שאי אפשר בלעדיו.

[20] Shemone Perakim, Chapter 5, internet edition here.

ודע,שהמדרגה הזאת היא מדרגה עליונה מאוד וחמודה. ולא ישיגוה אלא מעטים, ואחר השתדלות רבה מאוד. וכשתזדמן מציאות-אדם, שזה מצבו, לא אומר, שהוא למטה מן הנביאים, רצוני לומר: שיוציא כוחות-נפשו כולם וישים תכליתם האלוהים יתעלה לבד, ולא יעשה מעשה קטון או גדול, ולא יבטא מילה, אלא שאותו מעשה או אותו ביטוי יביא ל"מעלה"או ל"מה שמביא אל מעלה".

[21] I don’t think Maimonides discusses the pleasure associated with physical activities performed for the sake of heaven. I noticed that in In TheSages – Their Concepts and Beliefs E.E. Urbach (Jerusalem 1978 Heb.), page 299, the author understands that according to Shammai there is no concept of acting for the sake of heaven when it comes to activities that fulfill bodily needs like eating, washing and so on, but I don’t understand why the author says so.

[22] Attitudes Toward Pleasure in Jewish Thought, Moshe Z. Sokol, in Reverence, Righteousness and Rahamanut – Esssays in Memory of Rabbi Dr. Leo Jung ed. Jacob J. Schacter, page 300-304

[23] Shir Hashirim Rabba 1:3 לריחשמניךטובים

וביתמדרשושלרביאליעזרהיהעשויכמיןריס, ואבןאחתהייתהשםוהיתהמיוחדתלולישיבה. פעםאחתנכנסרבייהושעהתחילונושקאותההאבןואמר: האבןהזאת, דומהלהרסיני, וזהשישבעליה, דומהלארוןהברית.

[24] Magdala stone (via Google images) http://www.antiquities.org.il/article_eng.aspx?sec_id=25&subj_id=240&id=1601

[25] Shir Hashirim Rabba 1:3

פעםאחתשההרביעקיבאלבאלביתהמדרשבאוישבלומבחוץ. נשאלהשאלה: זוהלכה,אמרו: הלכהמבחוץ. חזרהונשאלהשאלה. אמרו: תורהמבחוץ. חזרהונשאלהשאלה. אמרו: עקיבאמבחוץ. פנולומקום. באוישבלולפנירגליושלרביאליעזר.

[26] The story in Berakhot 28a (and Yerushalmi Berakhot 4:1 (daf 32b in mechon-mamre and snunit sites), (the question about the obligation of the evening prayer), speaks about a beit-midrash with benches. Maybe the meeting place of the Sanhedrin was different and they didn’t sit on the floor?

↧

A Picture and its One Thousand Words: The Old Jewish Cemetery of Vilna Revisited*

January 14, 2016, 2:53 pm

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A Picture and its One Thousand Words: The Old Jewish Cemetery of Vilna Revisited*

by Shnayer Z. Leiman

A. The Photograph.

Recently, I had occasion to publish the above photograph – a treasure that offers a glimpse of what the old Jewish cemetery of Vilna looked like in the inter-war period.[1] Indeed, it captures the oldest portion of the rabbinic section of the old Jewish cemetery. The purpose of this essay is to identify the persons buried here and – where possible – to reconstruct and print the epitaphs on their tombstones. Seven partially legible inscriptions can be seen by the naked eye, as one moves from left to right across the photograph. An empty frame that once held a tombstone can be seen in the center of the photograph, as well. With the aid of a magnifying glass, as well as literary evidence, we shall attempt to identify all those buried here and to restore the full texts of their epitaphs. In effect, we shall engage in a virtual tour of a Jewish cemetery that – sadly -- exists today almost entirely underground.

Briefly, the old Jewish cemetery was the first Jewish cemetery established in Vilna. According to Vilna Jewish tradition, it was founded in 1487. Modern scholars, based on extant documentary evidence, date the founding of the cemetery to 1593, but admit than an earlier date for its founding cannot be ruled out.[2] The cemetery, still standing today (but denuded of its tombstones), lies just north of the center of the city of Vilna, across the Neris (formerly: the Vilia) River, in the section of Vilna called Shnipishkes (Yiddish: Shnipishok). It is across the river from, and just opposite , one of Vilna’s most significant landmarks, Castle Hill with its Gediminas Tower. The cemetery was known as the Piramont[3] cemetery, also (in Yiddish) as der alter feld or der alter beys eylam [so in Lithuanian Yiddish; in Ashkenazic Yiddish: beys oylom]. It was in use from the year it was founded until 1831, when it was officially closed by the municipal authorities. Although burials no longer were possible in the old Jewish cemetery, it became a pilgrimage site, and thousands of Jews visited annually the graves of the many righteous heroes and rabbis buried there, especially the graves of the Ger Tzedek (Avraham b. Avraham, also known as Graf Potocki, d. 1749), the Gaon of Vilna (R. Eliyahu b. Shlomo, d. 1797), and the Hayye Adam (R. Avraham Danzig, d. 1820). Such visits still took place even after World War II.[4]

The cemetery, more or less rectangular in shape, was spread over a narrow portion of a sloped hill, the bottom of the hill almost bordering on the Neris River.[5] The photograph captures some of the oldest mausoleums and graves at exactly that spot, i.e. at the bottom of the hill almost bordering on the Neris River. The tombstone inscriptions face north, toward the top of the hill. As one moves from left to right across the photograph, one is in effect moving uphill toward the entrance of the cemetery, a gate built into the northern portion of the cemetery fence.[6] We shall move from left to right, and begin with the first tombstone inscription.

1. R. Menahem Manes Chajes (1560-1636).

R. Menahem Manes was among the earliest Chief Rabbis of Vilna. Indeed, his grave was the oldest extant grave in the Jewish cemetery, when Jewish historians first began to record its epitaphs in the nineteenth century.[7] R. Menahem Manes’ father, R. Yitzchok Chajes (d. 1615), was a prolific author who served as Chief Rabbi of Prague. Like his father, R. Menahem Manes published several works in his lifetime, including a dirge entitled סליחה על שני קדושים (Lublin, 1596)[8];a treatise in rhyme encompassing all the laws of ערב שבת, entitled קבלת שבת (Lublin, 1621)[9]; and left still other works in manuscript form (e.g., a commentary on פרשת בלק, entitled דרך תמימים, now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford University).[10] His epitaph reads:[11]

2. R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (ca. 1770-1825).

Son of the Chief Rabbi of Brisk, R. Yosef Katzenellenbogen,[12] R. Shaul frequented Vilna as a youth in order to converse with the Gaon of Vilna. After meeting with the young Shaul, the Gaon purportedly said: "ראה זה רך בשנים וטעם זקנים מלא".[13] Ultimately, R. Shaul settled in Vilna where he served with distinction as a מורה צדק. Influenced by the Gaon’s methodology and piety, it is no coincidence that he was asked to write letters of approbation for the first printed editions of works by the Gaon[14] and by (and about) his favorite disciples, R. Shlomo Zalman[15] (d. 1788) and his brother R. Hayyim of Volozhin[16] (d. 1821). R. Shaul’s glosses on the Talmud are included in the definitive edition of the BabylonianTalmud (ed. Romm Publishing Co.: Vilna, 1880-1886). He left an indelible impression on all who knew him; and especially on his students, among them R. David Luria[17] (d. 1855) and R. Samuel Strashun[18] (d. 1872) – two of the leading rabbinic scholars of 19^th century Lithuania. He was honored at his death by being buried next to some of Vilna’s greatest rabbis, despite the fact that he was one of the last rabbis buried in the old Jewish cemetery. In 1826, a kloyz was established in Vilna in his memory. Called “Reb Shaulke’s [probably pronounced: Shoelke’s or Sheyelke’s] kloyz,” it remained in continuous use until, and even during, the Holocaust.[19]

The inscription that can be seen on the photograph reads:

This is simply an informational sign (almost certainly of early 20^th century origin) that indicates to the visitor that R. Shaul was buried in this mausoleum. In fact, he was buried between R. Menahem Manes Chajes (d. 1636) and R. Moshe Rivkes (d. 1672), author of באר הגולה, and ancestor of the Vilna Gaon. His tombstone inscription, not visible in the photograph, reads:[20]

3. R. Moshe, Dayyan of Vilna (ca. 1670-1740).

Little is known about R. Moshe, other than – as indicated on his epitaph – he served with distinction as a dayyan in Vilna.[21] Some of his Torah teachings are preserved in his son R. David’s, מצודת דוד (Altona, 1736).[22] R. Moshe was popularly known as “R. Moshe Charaz,” חר"ז being an abbreviation for חתן ר'זאלקינד “son-in-law of R. Zalkind.” R. Zalkind should probably be identified with R. Shlomo Zalkind b. Barukh, who lived in the second half of the 17^th century, and was a respected lay leader of Vilna’s Jewish community.[23] R. Moshe’s epitaph stands outside a second mausoleum, with its own entrance, separate from the first mausoleum (where R. Menahem Manes Chajes, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, and R. Moshe Rivkes were buried). The epitaph reads:[24]

4. R. Hillel b. Yonah (d. 1706).

The empty frame in the third mausoleum from the left held a wooden tombstone that existed into the 20^th century.[25] Before it was removed for repair, it was photographed in situ, and the photograph was preserved at the Ansky Museum in Vilna. The photograph was published just prior to the onset of World War II.[26] The epitaph on the tombstone commemorates the life and death of R. Hillel b. Yonah, Chief Rabbi of Vilna, and his wife Rachel (d. 1710). They were the only occupants of the third mausoleum. R. Hillel served as Chief Rabbi of Chelm prior to his appointment as Chief Rabbi of Vilna in 1688. Some of his Torah teachings are preserved in R. David b. R. Moshe’s מצודת דוד (Altona, 1736).[27] The joint epitaph reads:[28]

5. R. Moshe Darshan (d. 1726).

R. Moshe Darshan was born in Vilna in 1641. His father, R. Hillel b. Naftali Hertz, was the celebrated author of בית הלל (on Shulhan Arukh Yoeh De’ah and Even ha-Ezer), who served on the rabbinic court of R. Moshe b. Yitzchok Yehuda Lima of Vilna (author of חלקת מחוקק on Shulhan Arukh Even ha-Ezer) from 1651-1666, and later served as Chief Rabbi of Altona-Hamburg, and then Zolkiev.[29] R. Moshe was appointed ראש בית דין and דרשן of Vilna and served in that capacity until his death. His epitaph reads:[30]

6. R. Yaakov Kahana (d. 1826).[31]

R. Yaakov b. R. Avraham Kahana, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon, was the son-in-law of R. Yissakhar Ber (d. 1807), a brother of the Vilna Gaon. Supported regally by his father-in-law, R. Yaakov suddenly found himself without support upon the death of his father-in-law. The Vilna kehilla immediately appointed him trustee of its various charities, in order to provide him with a dignified income, while enabling him to continue his pursuit of Torah study. R. Yaakov authored a classic commentary on B. Eruvin, גאון יעקב (Lemberg, 1863 and later editions).[32] His epitaph reads:[33]

7. R. Eliyahu Hasid (d. 1710).

R. Eliyahu was the son of R. Moshe b. David Kramer, who served as Chief Rabbi of Vilna from 1673 to 1687.[34] R. Eliyahu served as an administrator of Vilna’s צדקה גדולה and also as a dayyan. He was a great-grandfather of the Vilna Gaon, and the Gaon was named after him.[35] The epitaph reads:[36]

8. R. Yosef b. Elyah (d. 1718).

A communal leader (ראש, אלוף, מנהיג) in Vilna about whom little else is known.[37] That he was buried in proximity to R. Eliyahu Hasid (d. 1710), and that at a later date R. Moshe Darshan (d. 1726) was buried in proximity to him, is sufficient proof of his prominence, perhaps in wisdom and certainly in wealth. His epitaph reads:[38]

-------------------------

B. A Visit to the Old Jewish Cemetery in 1940.

Known affectionately as “Reb Dovid,” Rabbi Meshulam Dovid Soloveitchik is currently Rosh Yeshiva of the Brisk Yeshiva in the Givat Moshe (also called: Gush Shemonim) section of Jerusalem. A descendant of R. Hayyim of Volozhin (d. 1821), and a scion of the Soloveitchik dynasty – his grandfather was R. Hayyim Soloveitchik (d. 1918), Rosh Yeshiva of Volozhin and Chief Rabbi of Brisk; and his father was R. Yitzchok Zev Soloveitchik (d. 1959), last Chief Rabbi of Brisk, and founder of the Brisk dynasty in Jerusalem) – he is a leader of the Haredi community in Israel.

A still active nonagenarian, he was born circa 1923. Upon the outbreak of World War II, he fled from Brisk and made his way to Vilna, which – largely due to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of August 23, 1939, and Stalin’s subsequent decision to hand Vilna over to Lithuania – became the newly recognized capital of Independent Lithuania. Reb Dovid, a teenager at the time, resided in Vilna from October 22, 1939 through January 19, 1941, when together with his father (and other members of the family), he embarked on the arduous and dangerous journey that would bring him to the land of Israel, where the family ultimately settled.[39]

Some 15 volumes of Reb Dovid’s teachings have appeared in print, many under the title: שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי. These are transcriptions of his lectures as recorded by his students, with focus primarily on Torah and Talmud commentary. One of the volumes, however, includes a riveting account – in R. Dovid’s own words – of how he managed to survive the Holocaust. The memoir includes a brief description of a visit he made to the old Jewish cemetery in Vilna in 1940.[40] The passage reads:[41]

“When in Vilna, I went several times to visit the cemetery where the Vilna Gaon was buried, but it was closed. The gate was kept locked because burials no longer took place in the old Jewish cemetery, which was inside the city limits. Burials now took place in another cemetery [Zaretcha] which was outside the city limits.[42] Moreover, the caretaker who had the keys [to the old Jewish cemetery] lived far from the cemetery. Once, however, I came to the cemetery and found the gate open and went in to visit the Vilna Gaon’s grave. On my way to the grave, I passed an ancient tombstone with the words משיח ה' inscribed on its epitaph.[43] I could not understand what this signified and who was buried there.[44]From there I reached the Vilna Gaon’s grave,and nearby, the grave of R. Avraham the Ger Tzedek. (At some later date, I chanced upon a pamphlet which contained a eulogy by R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen,[45] of blessed memory, over the author of Ha-Pardes.[46] In this pamphlet about the author of Ha- Pardes, it is stated that when he died a search was made in the old Jewish cemetery for a place where he could be buried. One empty plot was found, to the right of which was buried [R. Moshe Rivkes] the author of Be’er Ha-Golah, and to the left of which was buried R. Manes משיח ה'. Since no one had been buried in the empty plot next to these rabbis for some 85 years,[47] a rabbinic court was convened to decide whether the plot could be used now for the author of Ha-Pardes. The decision was that he should be buried between the two rabbis. They explained that it was a special privilege for the author of Ha-Pardes to be buried next to these righteous persons, and went on to describe the righteousness and piety of R. Manes משיח ה'. It seems likely that this was the tombstone I saw with the words משיח ה' on its epitaph.”

This delightful account offers important testimony regarding what a living witness observed during a visit to the old Jewish cemetery in Vilna in 1940. On his way to the Vilna Gaon’s grave, R. Dovid saw a tombstone with the words משיח ה' inscribed on its epitaph. The reference, of course, is to the grave of R. Menahem Manes Chajes (see above, epitaph 1). It is indeed nearby to the Gaon’s mausoleum, and one could easily stop to see it on the way to the Gaon’s grave. The alert reader will surely wonder why in the photograph taken in the inter-war period, which includes the epitaph of R. Menahem Manes Chajes, one cannot make out the words משיח ה', whereas R. Dovid testifies that in 1940 it was precisely those words that caught his attention. The answer, I believe, is provided by another photograph of R. Menachem Manes Chajes’ epitaph taken in the summer of 1936.[48]

It too, at first glance, seems to have the words משיח ה' erased. But if one examines the photograph closely, one can make out the words משיח ה'. The white paint that once covered these etched letters has been chipped off. The inter-war photograph, a “group” photograph taken from a distance, could not capture the etched letters that now appeared as black on black. The naked eye of a human being, however, could pick up the etched stone letters that read משיח ה'. So too, a close up photograph of the Chajes epitaph alone, taken in 1936.

R. Dovid adds that, subsequently, he chanced upon a pamphlet that helped him identify the epitaph he had seen. The pamphlet contained a eulogy by R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen over the author of Ha-Pardes, who apparently died in Vilna. Initially, an appropriate burial place could not be found for him in the old Jewish cemetery. But after much search, an empty plot was found between R. Manes משיח ה' and [R. Moshe Rivkes,] the author of Be’er Ha-Golah. Since no one had been buried in proximity to these rabbis for some 85 years, a rabbinical court had to convene in order to decide the issue. The ruling was in favor of the burial, and special mention was made of the piety of R. Manes משיח ה', which clearly identified the epitaph that R. Dovid had seen.

Sadly, I have not succeeded in locating such a pamphlet. If indeed R. Dovid saw such a pamphlet, he cannot be faulted for summarizing its content. It certainly enabled him to identify the epitaph as belonging to the tombstone of R. Menahem Manes Chajes. But problems abound. R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (see above, epitaph 2) died in 1825. He wrote no pamphlets and published no eulogies. The author of Ha-Pardes was R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, chief Rabbi of Koenigsberg (today: Kaliningrad).[49] He died in 1775 and was buried in Koenigsberg.[50] Thus, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, five years old at the time, could not have published a eulogy over him. In fact, it was R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (as described above in epitaph 2) – and not the author of Ha-Pardes – who was buried between R. Menahem Manes Chajes and R. Moshe Rivkes.

One suspects that the pamphlet R. Dovid chanced upon was R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול (Vilna and Grodno, 1825).

The author, a devoted disciple of R. Shaul,[51]published a eulogy upon the death of his teacher. He writes:[52]

“On the day of his [R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen’s] burial, an oracle was heard – a voice without pause[53] – that an empty plot had been found between R. Moshe Rivkes, author of Be’er Ha-Golah and the Gaon R. Manes Chajes (who was depicted on his tombstone as משיח ה', already so in the early generations, in the year [5]386 [= 1626],[54] even aside from the seven virtues listed by the Sages that characterize all great individuals[55]). In that section of the cemetery, the gravediggers did not dare to dig a grave during the last 85 years, for they feared for their lives. For that section of the cemetery was filled with holy and pious Jews.[56] But due to an agreement of the Moreh Zedek’s of our community, they began digging and found an empty plot waiting for this righteous Rabbi’s remains since the week of Creation.

Here – and apparently in no other pamphlet – we have all the basic elements in R. Dovid’s account, with one glaring exception. Nothing is mentioned about the author of Ha-Pardes, R. Aryeh Leib Epstein. As indicated above, the author of Ha-Pardes in any event had nothing to do with a burial in Vilna. He lived at the wrong time (when empty plots were still available throughout the old Jewish cemetery) and died and was buried in the wrong place (in Koenigsberg). It is possible that we have in R. Dovid’s account a conflation of two unrelated pamphlets, each named גבעת שאול. Aside from R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול (cited above), a pamphlet with the exact same title, and also offering a eulogy, was authored by R. Shemariah Yosef Karelitz (d. 1917).[57]

The pamphlet, גבעת שאול (Warsaw, 1892), was a eulogy over Karelitz’ father-in-law, whose name also happened to be R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (1828-1892), and who had served with distinction as rabbi of Kossovo and then Kobrin (both today in Belarus). This second R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen was a descendant of R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, author of Ha-Pardes. Indeed, on the first title page of Karelitz’ גבעת שאול, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen is described in bold letters as a member of the Epstein family. On the second title page, he is described in bold letters as a descendant of “R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, author of Ha-Pardes.”

[

In sum, R. Dovid’s account provides impeccable testimony that the epitaph on the tombstone of R. Menahem Manes Chajes – the oldest tombstone preserved in the old Jewish cemetery – could still be visited and read in 1940.[58] What he claims to have read in a pamphlet at some later date remains problematic and requires further investigation or, as the later commentators would have put it, צריך עיון.

* In memory of Khaykl Lunski (ca. 1881-1943), fabled librarian of the Strashun Library, who was the embodiment of the very soul of Jewish Vilna. His last essay – a study of the faded tombstone inscriptions in Vilna’s old Jewish cemetery – was written in the Vilna Jewish ghetto created by the Nazis. It perished together with him during the Holocaust. See Shmerke Kaczerginski, חורבן ווילנע (New York, 1947), p. 198 (henceforth: Kaczerginski). Cf. Hirsz Abramowicz, Profiles of a Lost World (Detroit, 1999), p. 264. Kaczerginski’s description of Lunski’s last years in the Vilna ghetto are worth citing here:

Khaykl Lunski (ca. 1881-1943)

NOTES:

[1] Sid Z. Leiman, “Lithuanian Government Announces Construction of a $25,000,000 Convention Center in the Center of Vilna’s Oldest Jewish Cemetery,” The Seforim Blog, September 13, 2015, available online here, reprinted here. A similar photograph (from a slightly different angle) appears in Leyzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania (New York, 1974), vol. 1, p. 100 (henceforth: Ran). Alas, its lack of clarity renders it mostly useless.

[2] See Israel Klausner, קורות בית-העלמין הישן בוילנה (Vilna, 1935; reissued: Jerusalem, 1972), pp. 3-5 (henceforth: Klausner). Cf. Elmantas Meilus, “The History of the Old Jewish Cemetery at Šnipiškes in the Period of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania,” Lithuanian Historical Studies 12 (2007), pp. 64-67 (henceforth: Meilus).

[3] It was originally called “Pioromont,” because the old Jewish cemetery was adjacent to a street and neighborhood named after Stanislav Pior, an 18^th century starosta who owned land in the area (Meilus, p. 88).

[4] See, e.g., the testimony of Chaim Basok, who together with Rabbi Kalman Farber visited the Vilna Gaon’s grave in the old Jewish cemetery at Piramont after Vilna was liberated by the Russian army in 1944. See Kalman Farber, אולקניקי ראדין וילנא (Jerusalem, 2007), p. 413. I have personally interviewed several former residents of Vilna who visited the Gaon’s grave in the old Jewish cemetery at Piramont between 1945 and 1948.

[5] A detailed map of the cemetery, as it appeared in 1935, is appended to Klausner.

[6] For an artist’s depiction of the gate at the northern entrance to the cemetery, see Sholom Zelmanovitch, דער גר-צדק ווילנער גראף פאטאצקי (Kovno, 1934), opposite p. 44. Notice Castle Hill at the upper right hand corner of the sketch; the inscription above the gate, והקיצו לקץ הימין; and the inscriptions on the sides of the gate, בית עולם ווילנא and zydu kapines. Here is the sketch:

[7] See, e.g., Shmuel Yosef Fuenn, קריה נאמנה (Vilna, 1860), p. 63 (henceforth: Fuenn 1860). Cf. the second and revised edition of קריה נאמנה (Vilna, 1915), p. 67 (henceforth: Fuenn 1915).

[8] Yeshayahu Vinograd, אוצר ספר העברי (Jerusalem, 1994), vol. 2, p. 359, entry 65.

[9] See Moshe Dovid Chechik, “ מהר"ר מנחם מאניש חיות וספר קבלת שבת,” ישורון 17(2006), pp. 668-691.

[10] Adolf Neubauer, Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library and in the College Libraries of Oxford (Oxford, 1886), column 59, entry 293.

[11] We have attempted to transcribe the Hebrew texts exactly as they appear in the photograph. We add in brackets the reconstruction of letters and words that in all likelihood once appeared in the original texts, but were no longer visible when the photograph was taken. For other photographs of the epitaph, see Klausner, p. 36; Zalman Szyk, יאר ווילנע 1000 (Vilna, 1939), pp. 408 and 416 (henceforth: Szyk); Ran, vol. 1, p. 101 ; and Reuben Selevan, A Trip to Remember: New York to Europe 1936 (New York, 2009), p. 113. The reconstructions are based mostly on the earlier transcriptions of the epitaphs in Fuenn and Klausner.

Over the years, some of the epitaphs were redone, and the reconstructed texts are often faulty. Enlarged and/or dotted letters (signaling acrostics, names, or dates) were sometimes made small and the dots were omitted. Small letters were sometimes enlarged. Letters and words were added or dropped when a partially erased word could no longer be read. Thus, for example, the first three words of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ epitaph (in the photograph) read: פה נטמן בו, an impossible construction in Hebrew. It is obvious that one or more words are missing from the opening line of the epitaph. It is also evident the first lines form an acrostic spelling out his name: מנחם מאנש. When the epitaphs were redone, the original line divisions were not always retained. For the letters in bold relating to the year of his death (קדרו ושמים), see below, note 54. Based upon the earlier transcriptions in Fuenn (Fuenn 1860, p. 63; Fuenn 1915, p. 67) and Klausner (pp. 36-39), and a measure of common sense, the original epitaph probably read:

[12] R. Shaul was also the brother of his father’s successor in the rabbinate of Brisk, R. Aryeh Leib (d. 1837). See Aryeh Leib Feinstein,

עיר תהלה (Warsaw, 1886), p. 30.

[13] Abraham Dov Baer ha-Kohen Lebensohn, אבל כבד (Vilna, 1825), section “תולדות הנאון,” p. 2.

[14] See ספרא דצניעותא (Vilna and Grodno,1820), page following title page.

[15] See R. Yehezkel Feivel, תולדות אדם (Dyhernfurth, 1809), vol. 2, page following title page.

[16] See R. Hayyim of Volozhin, נפש החיים (Vilna and Grodno, 1824), page following title page.

[17] Samuel Luria, “תולדות הרד"ל,” in R. David Luria, קדמות ספר הזהר (New York, 1951), pp. 12-14.

[18] See Hillel Noah Maggid Steinschneider, עיר ווילנא (Vilna, 1900), vol. 1, p. 163.

[19] See Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, Sergey Kravtsov, Vladimir Levin, Giedrė Mickūnaitė, and Jurgita Šiaučiūnaitė-Verbickienė, Synagogues in Lithuania (Vilnius, 2012), vol. 2, p. 316, item 55. Cf. Ran, vol. 1, p. 112. (The alleged photograph of R. Shaulke’s kloyz in Ran is misidentified; cf. Synagogues in Lithuania, vol. 2, p. 348, n. 248.) The address of the kloyz was Szawelska (later: Žmudskij) [Yiddish: Shavli] 5 (today: Šiauliu 2). The original building no longer stands. During the Holocaust, the kloyz continued to serve as a prayer house and it housed a Yeshiva named in memory of R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzenski (d. 1940). See Kaczerginski, p. 209; cf. Zelig Kalmanovitch, יומן בגיטו וילנה (Tel-Aviv, 1977), pp. 83 and 100 (English edition: Zelig Kalmanovitch “A Diary of the Nazi Ghetto in Vilna,” Yivo Annual of Jewish Social Science 8[1953], pp. 30 and 47).

[20] Fuenn 1860, pp. 236-238; Fuenn 1915, pp. 237-239; Klausner, p. 75.

[21] See Fuenn 1860, p. 100; Fuenn 1915, p. 107; and cf. Klausner, pp. 43-44.

[22] See, e.g. מצודת דוד, pp. 3a, 7a, and 31a.

[23] Fuenn 1860, p. 107, paragraph 50, number 11; Fuenn 1915, p. 113, paragraph 51, number 11.

[24] The text of the epitaph was not recorded either by Fuenn or Klausner. However, it is easily restored by combining the general information they provide with the legible portions of the text in the photograph.

[25] There is good reason to believe that wooden tombstones once proliferated in the old Jewish cemetery, but they did not survive the ravages of time and circumstance. See, e.g., Klausner, p. 38 (who indicates that as late as 1810 the fee exacted by the חברא קדישא for stone tombstones was twice the amount exacted for wooden tombstones) and Szyk, p. 406 (who states that the majority of tombstones in the old Jewish cemetery were made of wood but did not survive). Only two wooden tombstones (in the old Jewish cemetery) survived into the twentieth century; those of R. Hillel b. Yonah and R. Yehoshua Heschel b. Saul, who served as Chief Rabbi of Vilna from circa 1725 until his death in 1749. For photographs of R. Yehoshua Heschel’s wooden tombstone, see Klausner, p. 52; Szyk, p. 416; and Ran, vol. 1, p. 101.

[26] Klausner, p. 42. Cf. Szyk, p. 416 and Ran, vol. 1, p. 100 (mostly illegible).

[27] See, e.g., מצודת דוד, p. 27a.

[28] Fuenn 1860, pp. 97-98; Fuenn 1915, pp. 104-105.

[29] See Eduard Duckesz, אוה למושב (Krakau, 1903), pp. 4-7.

[30] Fuenn 1860, pp. 99-100; Fuenn 1915, pp. 106-107; Klausner, p. 43.

[31] Moving from left to right on the photograph, R. Yaakov Kahana’s tombstone (tombstone 6) appears to the right of R. Moshe Darshan’s tombstone (tombstone 5). But as one walks uphill from the bottom to the top of the cemetery, one passes the three mausoleums, then the twin gravestones of R. Yaakov Kahana and R. Eliyahu Hasid (tombstone 7), and only then the grave of R. Moshe Darshan.

[32] For biographical information about R. Yaakov Kahana, see Fuenn 1860, p. 239; Fuenn 1915, pp. 239-240; and the third edition of Kahana’s גאון יעקב, entitled גאון יעקב השלם (Jerusalem, 1997), introductory pages. See also Yaakov Polskin, “ספר צוף דבש,” ישורון 4(1998), p. 270, notes 7-9.

[33] Here too, the photograph presents an empty frame. Only the opening lines (i.e. the marker identifying the grave) can still be read. The original epitaph is recorded in Fuenn 1860, p 240; Fuenn 1915, pp. 240-241. Klausner (p. 53) mentions Kahana’s grave but does not record the epitaph.

[34] For biographical information about R. Moshe Kramer, see Fuenn 1860, pp. 95-96; Fuenn 1915, pp. 102-103, and the references cited in the next note.

[35] See R. Avraham b. R. Eliyahu (the Gaon’s son), סערת אליהו (Vilna, 1889), p. 18. Cf. R. Yehoshua Heschel Levin, עליות אליהו (Vilna, 1885), p. 39, note 5.

[36] The opening lines (i.e. the marker identifying the grave) are painted on the upper portion of the tombstone. The epitaph is encased below the tombstone’s upper portion. For the epitaph, see Fuenn 1860, p. 99; Fuenn 1915, pp. 105-106; and Szyk, p. 408.

[37] See Fuenn 1860, p. 107; Fuenn 1915, p. 113.

[38] Here too the opening lines represent the marker identifying the grave, almost certainly added at a later date. For the epitaph, see Klausner, p. 43.

[39] See שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי: דרוש ואגדה (Jerusalem, 2014), pp. 390-396. For the date when R. Dovid left Vilna (January 19, 1941), we have followed Shimon Yosef Meller, הרב מבריסק (Jerusalem, 2003), vol. 1, p. 513.

[40] No precise date is provided by R. Dovid for his visit to the old Jewish cemetery. But since he arrived in Vilna on October 22, 1939, and his first attempts to visit the cemetery were thwarted, we assume the visit took place in 1940, the only full year he spent in Vilna. It is possible, however, that the visit took place late in 1939 or early in 1941.

[41] שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי: דרוש ואגדה (Jerusalem, 2014), pp. 393-394. The translation provided here is paraphrastic. The original Hebrew text reads:

[42] In 1940, Jewish burials were still taking place in Zaretcha, the successor cemetery to the old Jewish cemetery, which was closed in 1831. Zaretcha (today: Užupis), just outside the Old Town, and across the Vilenka River, was part of the Vilna municipality in 1940.

[43] In the latter part of the 19^th century and the first half of the 20^th century, the northern gate was no longer used. One entered the old Jewish cemetery from a side entrance on Derewnicka Street. The path from the entrance would lead one to the section where R. Menahem Manes Chajes was buried (on the right) and to the mausoleum where the Vilna Gaon was buried (on the left).

[44] The biblical title משיח ה' (see, e.g., I Sam. 24:7 and Lam. 4:20), rendered “the Lord’s anointed one,” was usually reserved for kings and would-be messiahs (by their followers), not rabbis. R. Dovid could not identify the occupant of the grave, perhaps because the line with the name מהור"ר מנחם מאנש simply didn’t resonate to a 17 year old yeshiva student. One could claim that the line with R. Menahem Manes’ name was no longer legible in 1940 (as it was not legible in the inter-war photograph that forms the basis of this essay), but this seems highly unlikely in the light of the Selevan photograph taken in 1936. See below, note 48. The Selevan photograph is a close-up photo, and R. Dovid was standing directly in front of the same tombstone. He had no trouble reading poorly painted words.

[45] See discussion below.

[46] See discussion below.

[47] R. Menahem Manes Chajes died in 1636; R. Moshe Rivkes died in 1672. Eighty five years after these dates would be between 1721 and 1757. Since, as we shall see, the author of Ha-Pardes died in 1775, “85 years” cannot be referring to the time that elapsed between their deaths and his. “100 years” and more would have been a more accurate estimate. See below, note 56, for a likely explanation of the “85 years.”

[48] Reuben Selevan, A Trip to Remember: New York to Europe 1936 (New York, 2009), p. 113. I am deeply grateful to the author for granting me permission to scan and post the photograph (taken by his father in 1936) of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ epitaph.

[49] For a biography of R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, see R. Ephraim Mordechai Epstein, גבורות ארי (Vilna, 1870). Ha-Pardes, only partially published, was an encyclopedic work encompassing many different genres of rabbinic literature. It includes talmudic commentary, listing and exposition of the 613 commandments, responsa literature, halakhic codes, kabbalistic teaching, sermons, eulogies, and more. The first fascicle with the title ספר הפרדס was published in Koenigsberg, 1759. It is a available today in several editions, including: ספרי בעל הפרדס (Bnei Brak, 1978), 2 vols.; and ספרי הפרדס (Jerusalem, 1983), 4 vols. See also מעשה רב חדש (Bnei Brak, 1980), pp. 29-80.

[50] His grave is no longer standing. A sketch of his grave, as it looked in 1904, appears in Festschrift zum 200jahrigen Bestehen des israelitischen Vereins für Krankenpflege und Beerdigung Chewra Kaddischa (Koenigsberg, 1904), sketch IV. The full Hebrew epitaph is printed opposite p. XX.

[51] See the entry on him in Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem, 1973), vol. 10, column 830.

[52] גבעת שאול, p. 23a. The translation here is paraphrastic. The Hebrew text reads:

[53] See Deut. 5:19 and Rashi’s comment ad loc.

[54] The year of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ death was recorded on his epitaph with the words: קדרו ושמים. Several of these letters had protruding dots above them; the numerical value of the dotted letters yields the year of his death. At a very early period, some of the dots could no longer be read. Fuenn (1860, p. 63; 1915, p. 67) writes that he was able to make out dots above the letters ר, ו , and מ. But those letters alone could not possibly refer to his date of death. This passage indicates that in 1825, at least, the dotted letters also includedק and final ם, totaling [5]386 = 1626. On other grounds, we know that Chajes died in [5]396 = 1636, so it appears likely that the dotted letters also once included the י of ושמים. If not for Fuenn’s testimony, we would claim that the second word by itself, ושמים ( = [5]396) yields the year of Chajes’s death. Cf. Moshe Dovid Chechik (above, note 9), p. 675.

[55] See M. Avot 5:7.

[56] Given that this passage was written in 1825, “85 years” here refers to the period between 1740 and 1825. As the passage itself makes clear, the reference is to the many rabbinic greats who were buried in this section of the cemetery by 1740 – and not later. See above, epitaphs 1,3,4,5,7, and 8, all of which are samples that support the claim that after 1740 no rabbinic greats were buried in this section of the cemetery. Epitaphs 2 and 6 are in harmony with this claim. Epitaph 2 is the epitaph of R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, the case at hand. Epitaph 6 (R. Yaakov Kahana) is dated 1826, a year after the case at hand and the publication of the passage in R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול.

[57] The father of R. Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz (d. 1953), author of חזון איש.
[58] I am deeply grateful to Professor Dovid Katz of Vilnius, mentor and colleague, whose astute comments have enhanced the final version of this essay.

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The Agunah Problem, Part 1; Incarceration and Free Speech

January 19, 2016, 10:42 am

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The Agunah Problem, Part 1; Incarceration and Free Speech

Marc B. Shapiro

1. There has been a lot of discussion recently about the International Beit Din and its rulings allowing certain marriages to be voided, thus freeing women from being agunot. As is to be expected, this beit din has been subject to strong attacks, even of a personal nature, despite the fact that the members of the beit din are recognized talmidei hakhamim. These dayanim are intent on keeping everything above board and have published the reasoning behind their rulings, thus giving opponents the opportunity to engage in halakhic argumentation.

From what I have read, the International Beit Din has three approaches to freeing agunot. One is annul the marriage based on mekah taut, i.e., there was some problem with the husband that would have prevented the wife from marrying him had she known of it. This is a perfectly valid mechanism that has been used by many poskim, such as R. Zvi Pesah Frank, R. Moshe Feinstein, and R. Avraham Shapiro. Although one can, of course, criticize the application of mekah taut to a particular case, the mechanism itself is part of standard halakhic operating procedure and the International Beit Din is well within its rights to use mekah taut when possible.

The second approach is to find a problem in the marriage ceremony itself, meaning that the marriage never took place. For example, one can show that there were no proper witnesses to the marriage. Here again, one can disagree with particular rulings, but not with the basic approach.

The third approach is that of get zikui, which in the current context means that the beit din issues a divorce to the woman on behalf of the man, even if the man has not approved of this and even if is against his will.[1] While there has been a good deal of discussion of this approach, I can’t find on the International Beit Din’s website that any marriage has actually been dissolved by using this mechanism. Unlike the other two approaches, there is little precedent for use of a get zikui, which means that its chances of being generally accepted are nil.

The use of a get zikui is actually suggested by R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, Seridei Esh, vol. 3, no. 25. In fact, R. Weinberg’s responsum is the most detailed discussion of get zikui but surprisingly it is not included on the International Beit Din’s website. It must be noted, however, that R. Weinberg is only prepared to suggest a get zikui if the husband would want the get to be given. However, in the contemporary agunah situation the problem is that the husbands do not want to give the wives a get, and concerning these cases R. Weinberg writes: נפל היסוד של כתיבת גט מטעם זכי'

Is there another possible approach? How about a heter meah rabbanim for a married woman if she can’t get a get? I know you are thinking that this is crazy, but look at the following page, which comes from the medieval work Etz Hayyim by R. Jacob Hazan.[2]

As you can see from the very end of the page, it states that the rabbis required a man to give a get if he contracted a marriage באיסור, which in this case means he was already committed to marry someone else. Then it says that if this man disappeared the woman can be freed with a heter meah rabbanim (actually, it says ish, not rabbanim, but I don’t want to get into that now). This is a very radical position, that a woman can be freed by a heter meah rabbanim, and it is attested to nowhere else. Not surprisingly, R. Israel Brodie, the editor of Etz Hayyim,[3] calls attention to this unusual halakhic position. R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin also refers to this novel idea.[4]

But are Rabbis Brodie and Zevin correct? Israel Moshe Ta-Shma and Shlomo Zalman Havlin say no, and see this as a serious mistake. According to them, the last case discussed in Etz Hayyim has nothing to do with the man who married באיסור but refers back to a case mentioned earlier on the page of a man who was only committed to marry a woman. If this man then disappears, מתירין הבחורה במאה איש. In other words, the woman is released from any obligation to marry the missing man, but this has nothing to do with a woman already married. I will let the readers decide for themselves who is correct.[5]

As for the problem of women not being able to get a divorce because the man refuses, there are some important points that must be made which I don’t think everyone is aware of. Today, many people assume that a woman who wants out of a marriage, for whatever reason, has that right. After all, a woman is not a prisoner and a husband should not force her to be married to him if she doesn’t want to. However, this viewpoint is very much a modern approach.[6] If you look at the standard halakhic sources you will find that there is no obligation for a man to give his wife a divorce just because she wants it. Ever since R. Gershom, the same situation is also found in reverse, namely, a husband is not allowed to divorce his wife against her will just because he no longer wishes to be married to her. This approach to ending marriage is very much in line with how secular society use to operate before the introduction of no fault divorce.

Significantly, Maimonides does require the husband to give his wife a divorce if she says she no longer wishes to live with him.[7] R. Kafih elaborates on the wisdom of Maimonides’ position, and here are some of his important words[8]:

ברוך ה'א-להי ישראל אשר הזריח לנו את המאור הגדול הזה אשר במבטו החודר פלש למעמקי הדורות וצפה גם את דורנו הפרוץ לבשתינו ולמגנת לבבנו, אוי לעינים שכך רואות ואוי לאזנים שכך שומעות, ואלו ראו שאר חכמי הדורות את דורנו היו חותמים על פסקו של רבנו בשתי ידים. כי המציאות הוכיחה צדקת רבנו, שכל התובעת ג"פ בימינו וטוענת מאיס עלאי, לא רק עיניה נתנה באחר אלא היא כבר בחיק האחר או האחרים וחביטא קמייהו כמברכתא, ולפיכך מצוה לכוף את הבעל המעקש בכל כפיה אפשרית כדי להפריד בין הדבקים ויפה שעה אחת קודם.

However, it is the view in opposition to Maimonides that became the standard position, and it is this view that is recorded in the Shulhan Arukh[9] and followed by batei din. According to this approach, even if a woman says she can no longer live with her husband, he is not obligated to give her a get. What this can lead to is most vividly illustrated by the movie Gett, available here to watch for free for Amazon Prime members.

I have been told that the Beth Din of America operates on the principle that if one of the parties wants a divorce, for whatever reason, and there is no chance for reconciliation, then the Beit Din will instruct the other spouse to comply. But this is not how many other batei din operate. We have to be honest and acknowledge that the problem many women face is not because the dayanim are cruel or anti-women, but that it is Jewish law itself, or rather an interpretation of Jewish law, that is preventing them from receiving their divorces.

I feel it is necessary to stress this since we can now better appreciate why certain rabbis have attempted to find solutions within Jewish law to the contemporary agunah problem. Many on the right don’t see why this is necessary and why batei din cannot just follow Jewish law as it has operated until now instead of looking for “solutions”. These people might not realize the difficult situation this puts women in, a situation that might have been tolerable years ago but for more and more Orthodox Jews that is no longer the case. On the other hand, many on the left think that it is a simple matter to solve the agunah problem, and that it is just cruel and insensitive rabbis preventing this. This too is a distortion as the rabbis’ hands are often tied by halakhah, and this remains the case no matter how much of a “rabbinic will” they have.

Let me illustrate what I am talking about. As an example of how sentiments have changed over the centuries, here is a passage from R. Hayyim Benveniste that I have cited in two previous posts. In Keneset ha-Gedolah, Even ha-Ezer 154, Hagahot Beit Yosef no. 59, in discussing when we can force a husband to give a divorce, R. Benveniste writes:

ובעל משפט צדק ח"א סי'נ"ט כתב דאפי'רודף אחריה בסכין להכותה אין כופין אותו לגרש ואפי'לו'לו שחייב להוציא

Can anyone imagine a posek, from even the most right-wing community, advocating such a viewpoint today? The logic behind this position, as can be seen by examining the original responsum in Mishpat Tzedek, is that even if the man is running after her with the knife, we don’t assume that he will actually kill her. He must be doing it just to scare her, and that is not enough of a reason to force him to divorce her, or even to tell him that he is obligated to do so. And if we are wrong, and he really does kill her? I guess the reply would be that this isn’t anything we could have anticipated even if we saw the knife in his hand. This example shows how some poskim from prior generations made it extremely difficult for women to receive a divorce.

Let me give a few examples from more recent years. In 1967 the Supreme Rabbinic Court, consisting of Rabbis Yitzhak Nissim, Betzalel Zolty, and Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, concluded as follows.[10]

כשם שאין כופין בעל לגרש את אשתו בגלל טענת מאיס עלי, כך אין מחייבין את הבעל לגרש עקב טענה זו

This approach, which repeats itself again and again, completely undermines the assumption so many have that a man is obligated to give his wife a get when she no longer wishes to be married to him.

Look again at the conclusion of Rabbis Nissim, Zolty and Elyashiv. It couldn’t be any clearer that this woman is not an agunah. Their conclusion also contradicts the definition of agunah provided by JOFA (see here p. 22).

AGUNAH (pl: AGUNOT) A married woman who may not remarry because the death of her husband has not been verified or because (for whatever reason) she is unable to obtain a get from her husband.

It is simply not true that a woman unable to obtain a get from her husband “for whatever reason” is an agunah. I wish it were different, and I wish Maimonides’ ruling carried the day. But that is not the case, which means that an agunah has to be defined as one whose husband refuses to issue a get after ordered to do so by a beit din.

R. Zvi Hirsch Grodzinski, perhaps the leading talmudist and halakhist in the United States in the early years of the twentieth century, discusses a case where a woman committed adultery (or only claimed to have done so; the matter is not clear, but for this post I am assuming she actually did commit adultery). She then wished to get divorced from her husband.[11] She must have had some connection to Judaism as she requested that her husband give her a get. I think most people would assume that in such a case, where the woman will no longer be living with her husband, that it is essential that the husband give her a get so that she is no longer committing adultery. With the get she can repent and move on with her life. Hopefully, she will be able to find another husband and live as pious Jew.

Yet just because most of us might intuitively feel this way, this does not mean all halakhists have to agree. R. Grodzinski concludes that the husband cannot be forced to give the get. To use today’s popular language, this meant that he was allowed to keep her as an agunah for the rest of her life. Of course, R. Grodzinski would deny that the woman was an agunah. Despite the woman’s adultery, I think most people will still be troubled reading the following words from R. Grodzinski, from which we see that he saw no problem in condemning her to live the rest of her life without receiving a get.

כ"ש בנ"ד שנאסרה עליו ע"י זנות דאין כופין אותו לגרשה בגט, כיון שהיא נתנה אצבע בין שיניה, וגרמה לעצמה במעשיה הרעים והוא לא עשה און, ולמה נכוף אותו ליתן לה גט, לא תבעל לו ותוצרר אלמנות חיות כל ימיה, הלא אינה מצווה על פו"ר, וכי בשביל שהיא הולכת אחרי שרירות לבה וזנתה תחתיו נכוף אותו לגרשה

I don’t think you need to be a member of JOFA or Open Orthodox to be upset by what R. Grodzinski writes, as it probably closed off any chance of repentance on the part of the woman. He also views the withholding of the get as a suitable form of punishment for the woman. Not being obligated in the commandment to procreate, she can be kept a “living widow”.[12]

For another noteworthy example, here is the conclusion of a 1953 Jerusalem Beit Din decision, by the dayanim R. Jacob Ades, R. Bezalel Zolty, and R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv:[13]

החשש כי האשה תצא לתרבות רעה אם הבעל לא יתן לה גט, אינו משמש יסוד לחייב את הבעל לתת לה גט

This decision from the Jerusalem Beit Din has another passage that is very troubling to me. I find it hard to believe that any Modern Orthodox beit din could conclude in this fashion, and it is precisely attitudes such as this that convinced women that the rabbinic courts in Israel were stacked against them.[14]

הא דברועה זונות יש לחייבו לתת לה גט, היינו היכא שהאשה היתה רוצה לחיות אתו, אלמלא שהבעל הוא רועה זונות, במקרה זה יש מקום לחייבו לגרשה כשהיא דורשת גט, משום שרועה זונות יאבד הון וסופו לא יהיה בידו לפרנסה, וגם משום שעצם היותו רועה זונות נוגע לה שהוא גורע מעונתה, וגם יש חשש של סכנה לחיות אתו, אבל במקרה שהאשה מורדת בבעלה ולא רוצה לחיות אתו בגלל איזו סבה שהיא, ואחרי זה נהיה הבעל רועה זונות אף שיש עבירה בידו, מכל מקום אין לחייבו משום זה לתת לה גט, כיון שהיא מורדת בו הרי הוא פטור ממזונותיה ושוב אין החשש שרועה זונות יאבד הון ולא יהיה בידו לפרנסה, וגם אין הטעם שברועה זונות הדבר נוגע לה שהוא גורע מעונתה וגם יש חשש סכנה לחיות אתו, דהלא היא מורדת בו ולא רוצה בכלל לחיות אתו.

What is a woman supposed to do in a case like this? After learning that her husband frequented prostitutes she had even more reason not to want to return to him, and yet the beit din held that in such a case the husband did not have to give her a get since her initial reason for wanting to be divorced was something else. Again we see that a man can, if he chooses, prevent his wife from being free.

Also of interest are the three reasons the court suggests why a woman would not be happy if her husband was going to prostitutes: 1. He will be spending their money, 2. He will be using them as his sexual outlet and will not want to sleep with his wife, 3. He could pass on a disease to her.

While it is true that a wife’s anger will include reasons 1 and 3, these are not the main reasons she will be upset. For example, the husband could be as rich as a former New York governor and have used protection, yet the wife will still be devastated for the simple reason that his actions were a terrible breach of trust. More than anything else, modern marriages are based on trust. As for reason 2, it is hard to imagine that there is any modern woman who, if she discovered that her husband was going to prostitutes, would want to be divorced because of this reason.

Where did the dayanim get these three reasons, as surprisingly, they don't tell us? I found reason 1 cited in the Beit Yosef, Even ha-Ezer 154 (towards the end, s.v. מצאתי כתוב בשם ספר אגודה). It originates in R. Alexander Susslein Ha-Kohen’s Sefer Agudah: Yevamot, no. 77.[15] Reasons 2 and 3 are found in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, Even ha-Ezer 154:16.[16]

These reasons undoubtedly reflect a different understanding of marriage, one which does not see the modern romantic notion of trust as the centerpiece of a marriage. Since people’s psychology has changed over the centuries, I don’t think that the reasons offered by medieval authorities operating in a completely different environment can determine what modern women will regard as “deal-breakers” when it comes to marriage. If a modern woman has different expectations of what marriage is than what people had years ago, I would think that this must be taken into account by a beit din in determining what situations require ordering the husband to give a get.

In fact, Sefer Agudah cites another reason why the court compels a husband visiting prostitutes to divorce his wife.

פעם אחת בא מעשה לידי לאה טוענת על ראובן שהיה רועה זונות והוא כופר. ופסקתי שאם תביא עדים שהוא כן יוציא ויתן כתובה. איבעית אימא קרא, איבעית אימא גמרא, איבעית אימא סברא . . . ואיבעית אימא סברא דגרע מכל הנהו דפרק המדיר.

In the final words just quoted (and underlined), Sefer Agudah is referring to this Mishnah in Ketubot 77a:

ואלו שכופין אותו להוציא מוכה שחין ובעל פוליפוס והמקמץ והמצרף נחושת והבורסי בין שהיו עד שלא נישאו ובין משנישאו נולדו ועל כולן אמר רבי מאיר אע"פ שהתנה עמה יכולה היא שתאמר סבורה הייתי שאני יכולה לקבל ועכשיו איני יכולה לקבל.

The following are compelled to divorce [their wives]: A man who is afflicted with boils, or has a polypus, or gathers [objectionable matter] or is a coppersmith or a tanner, whether they were [in such conditions or positions] before they married or whether they arose after they had married and concerning all these R. Meir said: Although the man made a condition with her [that she acquiesces in his defects] she may nevertheless plead, “I thought I could endure him, but now I cannot endure him.”

This final reason given by Sefer Agudah is based on sevara and not on a rabbinic text.[17] I don’t know why it was not cited by the dayanim, but it supports the point I made that the beit din need not be bound by examples given in the Talmud or other rabbinic sources. Rather, it can evaluate the current psychology of women and how they regard marriage.

For another example of how different current understandings are from what they used to be, look at this responsum of R. Zvi Hirsch Ashkenazi, Hakham Zvi, no. 133.

It deals with a man who committed adultery with a married woman, and his wife therefore wishes to divorce him. In such a case, contemporary Orthodox Jews of all persuasions would agree with the general view in society, that if the wife can forgive her husband and remain married, then it is no one else’s business what goes on in their lives. However, contemporary Orthodox Jews would also agree that if the betrayal is so devastating that the wife will never be able to trust her husband again, and she wants a divorce, then the husband should be required to give the divorce. To paraphrase what the Sefer Agudah said, this is certainly on the level of the things for which the Mishnah in Ketubot requires a husband to grant his wife if she requests if.

Yet the Hakham Zvi refuses to require the man to issue the divorce. One of the things he says is that even the Sefer Agudah would agree that in order to force a divorce the husband has to have been given prior warning not to visit prostitutes. In the case the Hakham Zvi was asked about, he says that there is another reason not to require the get, and that is that the man claims that he wishes to repent. So here we have a case where a man commits adultery, his wife cannot accept this and requests a divorce, and the man refuses and says he will repent. Today people would say that this woman is an agunah, as she is trapped in a marriage she doesn’t want to be in with a husband who cheated on her. Yet the Hakham Zvi rules in favor of the man that no divorce is required.

One can find numerous examples where poskim rule similarly. Here, for instance, is a decision of the Tel Aviv Beit Din.[18]

I think people will be shocked to learn that a woman who wants to divorce her husband because he went to a prostitute is being told by the beit din that she must stay with him if he promises not to do it again. But this only illustrates that the so-called agunah problem is inherent to the halakhic system, which according to the dominant interpretation does not recognize that a woman should be able to exit a marriage if she feels she can no longer live with her husband. There are literally hundreds of examples in the responsa literature and beit din proceedings where a woman is told that even though she wants to be divorced, there is no obligation on her husband to give her a get. Isn’t this where poskim must put their efforts to see if changes can be made? What a woman will tolerate today is not necessarily the same thing as what the Sages and earlier poskim assumed, and this is a point that was already made by halakhic authorities in prior generations.[19]

To further illustrate my point, R. Joseph Karo states that even if a husband is beating his wife he can’t be forced to divorce her.[20] She will obviously live apart from him, but R. Karo does not accept the view of some earlier authorities that the husband can be forced to issue her a divorce. This means that the woman is what we would today call an agunah, but the problem we are facing is not just about an evil man but arises from the halakhah itself. As we have just seen, according to R. Karo it is the halakhah that prevents us from forcing a husband to divorce his wife, even if he beats her.

In this case, R. Moses Isserles strongly rejects R. Karo’s opinion and states that we can force a man beating his wife to divorce her.[21] The passage I have underlined is of particular significance regarding the point I made previously.[22]

ואיני רואה בזב דבריו כלל דכדאי הם הגאונים לסמוך עליהם כל שכן שהרמב"ן ומהר"מ הסכימו בתשובותיהן בענין הכאת אשתו והביאו ראיות ברורות לדבריהם גם הסברא מסכמת עמהן ומה שלא הוזכרו בדברי הפוסקים אפשר לומר שהיה פשוט בעיניהם וקל וחומר הוא מהאומר איני זן וכו'

In deciding which opinion to follow, that of R. Karo or R. Isserles, I think that a point made by R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg is relevant. He states that if there is a dispute among earlier halakhic authorities, we should reject the view that will bring the Torah into disrepute in people's eyes.[23]

ואגלה להדר"ג [הגרא"י אונטרמן] מה שבלבי: שמקום שיש מחלוקת הראשונים צריכים הרבנים להכריע נגד אותה הדעה, שהיא רחוקה מדעת הבריות וגורמת לזלזול וללעג נגד תוה"ק

Can anyone deny that in the dispute between R. Karo and R. Isserles, the sort of consideration R. Weinberg was referring to would force dayanim, even Sephardic dayanim, to decide in accord with R. Isserles? In today’s day and age, it would be simply incomprehensible to people that a man who regularly beats his wife cannot be forced to give her a get.

There is another noteworthy decision given by the Supreme Rabbinic Court, again consisting of Rabbis Yitzhak Nissim, Bezalel Zolty, and Yosef Shalom Elyashiv.[24] The case was that a married man left his first wife and married another wife. The problem was that he never divorced the first wife, making him a bigamist. Furthermore, he refused to give his first wife a get. The woman therefore turned to the Beit Din asking them to force him to do so. The conclusion of the Beit Din was that while in this case, as opposed to the ones we saw earlier, the man was indeed obligated to divorce his wife, nevertheless the Beit Din could force him to do so. Since the Beit Din ruled that he was obligated to give the get, his not doing so would make the woman an agunah in the eyes of the court. But since the Beit Din felt that it was unable to force the man to issue the get, who knows how long (maybe her entire life) the woman was forced to remain an agunah. Unfortunately for the woman, R. Shaul Yisraeli, also a member of the Supreme Rabbinic Court, was not one of the dayanim in this case, since he wrote to R. Elyashiv arguing that the court should indeed force the husband to give the get.[25]

Since I mentioned R. Weinberg earlier in this post, take a look at this responsum from Seridei Esh, vol. 3, no. 29.

R. Weinberg was asked about a man who was sent to jail for sexual abuse of young girls. Understandably, his wife wanted a divorce. The rabbi didn’t know what to do and therefore wrote to R. Weinberg. He mentions that he never had to deal with a case of sexual abuse and doesn't know how to relate to it from a Jewish law perspective. He also assumes that there was no actual sexual relations but only fondling.

R. Weinberg, relying on the Hakham Zvi, states that the husband cannot be forced to divorce his wife, since he was never warned and there was no testimony in a beit din. He also says that one cannot rely on testimony given in a secular court, and makes the valid point that during that time, the Nazi era, there was a great deal of anti-Semitism and pleasure in making the Jews look bad.

None of this could have been of much comfort to the woman. We have no idea about her relationship with her husband. She might have already suspected him of being a pervert, or when he was arrested it might have clarified certain things that she wondered about. She might have confronted him after the arrest and seeing his reaction to her questions she knew he was guilty. Whatever the case, she no longer wished to remain married to someone she believed to be a sexual abuser. R. Weinberg was as open-minded a posek as one could imagine, yet even he was of the opinion that the husband could not be compelled to divorce his wife.

Today, if someone accused of sexual abuse refused to issue his wife a get, rabbis in the United States would call for protests in front of his house. Yet R. Weinberg does not see this as warranted. I think one of the most difficult things for people to grasp in his responsum, and in that of the Hakham Zvi, is the need for the husband to be warned. We are not talking about sentencing him in a beit din, where warning is a technical requirement, but whether or not the woman wants to live with him any more. In the two cases we have just seen, the issues of concern to the wives are one man’s visits to a prostitute and the other’s sexual abuse of children. Neither wife cared if her husband was “warned” in beit din since the offense is the same to her either before or after the “warning”.

Nevertheless, the notion that the husband has to be warned is found elsewhere as well. For example, regarding a husband who beats his wife, R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 154:3, states that according to some such a man can be forced to give his wife a get. The Vilna Gaon explains, in words that lead to a liberal understanding of when a man can be forced to divorce his wife:

יש אומרים שכופין כו': שאפילו על שאר דברים שאין לה צער כל כך כגון המדיר שלא תלך לבית אביה או לבית האבל כו' [כתובות עא ע"ב] או שלא תשאל נפה וכברה כו' [שם, עב ע"א], כל שכן במצערה בגופה. תשובת הרמב"ן סימן ק"ב.

Yet after stating that some say that a man who beats his wife can be forced to divorce her (an opinion he himself held, as we saw earlier in the quotation from Darkhei Moshe [26]), R. Isserles adds that a prior warning is required: ובלבד שמתרין בו תחילה פעם אחת או שתים.

Now that we have seen some of the real halakhic difficulties that stand at the center of the so-called agunah problem, in the next post I will offer a simple suggestion that I think can solve at least some of the cases.

2. Someone who read my earlier posts that discussed various punishments ordered by Jewish courts asked me about a quotation from R. Shlomo Yaffe, dean of the Institute of American and Talmudic Law, which offers a different perspective. See here. Before even getting to the particular quotation, let me say that I have real problems with some of what was said (or at least reported to have been said) at the recent conference on Jewish law reported on the link just given. For example, Rabbi Yaffe was asked, “If there were no First Amendment would we still have the freedom of speech?” The only correct answer has to be that without the First Amendment our freedom of speech will be endangered, and it could even become illegal to speak publicly about certain laws in the Torah (e.g., homosexuality), as this could be categorized as “hate speech”. But instead, Rabbi Yaffe replied: “Absolutely . . . We know that God had freedom of speech. He spoke and the world came into being. . . . We have free will and the ability to express ourselves.” How does this bit of darshanut answer a serious question about the importance of the First Amendment?

Professor Jeremy Waldron stated at the conference, “People have a right to be protected from vicious defamations upon them on account of their religion. So if somebody says, ‘All Muslims are terrorists,’ we believe [Muslims] have a right to be protected against that defamation.”[27] This is exactly why we need a First Amendment and why free speech must be protected. If it became illegal for some idiot to say, “All Muslims are terrorists,” then the next thing would be punishing people for saying that “Muslims are more likely to support terrorism than adherents of other religions,” and bans on the drawing of Muhammad’s picture and insulting the Prophet would not be far behind because after all, these are viewed by Muslims as defamations of their religion. (Muslims in Europe have already demanded that those insulting Muhammad not be protected by free speech laws.)

In other words, giving an inch in this matter would open up the floodgates and would be the end of free speech in America. As I already mentioned, this would also be a big problem for the traditional Jewish community, since it is only the constitutional guarantee of free speech that prevents “progressive” groups from legislating against “hate speech” found in religious communities. Based on the quote from Waldron, I would assume that he is a supporter of the “speech codes” that at one time were so popular at universities, until people began to realize the stifling effect they actually had on free speech. For those who are having trouble remembering what they learnt so many years ago: The First Amendment was created precisely in order to protect unpopular speech.

The particular quote from Rabbi Yaffe that I was asked about is the following: “In general, Jewish law and tradition are extremely opposed to incarceration as fundamentally immoral unless it is to protect someone from inflicting real harm on another human being.” What this means is that incarceration is only designed to protect the innocent, but Jewish law and tradition does not recognize incarceration as a means of punishment. This statement is simply false. Let us remember that incarceration must be seen as an improvement over the physical punishments I have detailed in earlier posts. Given the choice between lashing people and mutilating them, certainly incarceration is preferable. (See also what I wrote here.) As for incarceration itself, the Rambam states as follows in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Sanhedrin 24:9:

יש לכפות ידיים ורגליים ולאסור בבית האסורין

What this means is that a judge may bind a prisoner’s hands and feet and may imprison him. Punishment is one of the reasons that this is done, as Maimonides explains ibid. 24:10. Although there is nothing in the Torah about imprisonment, it was used as a punishment throughout Jewish history.[28] Simhah Assaf, who writes a good deal about Jewish prisons in Ha-Onshin Aharei Hatimat ha-Talmud, pp. 25ff, informs us that such prisons were found in Babylonia, Spain, Italy, Moravia, Poland, and Lithuania. One can also add Hungary and Bohemia to this list. According to Assaf, it is only in France and Germany that we don’t find Jewish prisons.[29] In addition to actual prisons, we also find something else:

A symbolic imprisonment, which served as a means for expiation as well as one of humiliation and embarrassment, consisted of shackling a suspected murderer, for example, during a service. He was to have his hands as well as his body chained. This was apparently a tradition received from R. Judah the Pious.[30]

[1] See R. J. David Bleich’s discussion of get zikui in Tradition 35:4 (2001), available here. See also the responsum of R. Solomon David Kahane in Sefer ha-Yovel Karnot Tzaddik (Kefar Habad, 1992), pp. 253ff. For the Safed beit din’s decision to issue a get to a woman whose husband was in a vegetative state, see here, and see the beit din’s defense of its decision here. An entire book was published in opposition to this decision; see here.

[2] Vol. 2, p. 236.

[3] Vol. 3, p. xi.

[4] See Sinai 60 (1967), p. 319.

[5] See Havlin in Ha-Ma’yan (Tevet 5728), pp. 33-34 n. 14.

[6] In previous posts I have cited numerous examples that show that the notion that men and women are equal is also a modern idea. The standard traditional view was that a woman is secondary to her husband and under his authority. I mention this here only because I recently found a very interesting formulation that is relevant to what we will be discussing. In R. Hayyim Aryeh Leib ben Joseph Hayyim, Sha’ar Bat Rabim (Warsaw, 1900), parashat Tazria, p. 24a-b, he explains why a woman, who is “enslaved to her husband as a slave,” does not choose to run away like other slaves do.

והוא ימשול בך: לעבוד עבודתו. ואעפ"י שהיא משועבדת לבעל כעבד ודרך העבד לברוח מאדונו כדי שלא להשתעבד מ"מ גזר ה'עלי'שתחפוץ להשתעבד לבעלה כשפחה מדה כנגד מדה כי חוה נתנה גם לבעלה ויאכל במצותה לכן נענשה שלא תהיה היא עוד מצוה עליו אלא הוא יצוה עלי'כל רצונו כן כתב רמב"ן.

[7] Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Ishut 14:8.

[8] Sefer Nashim, vol. 1, pp. 306-307.

[9] See Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 77:2.

[10] Piskei Din shel Batei Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 7, p. 3 (emphasis in original).

[11] Ha-Measef 9 (5664), nos. 1, 24.

[12] Ha-Measef 9 (5664), p. 1b. Many of his words are taken from She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rosh 43:8.

[13] Piskei Din shel Batei Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 1, p. 139. R. Eliezer Waldenberg had a different approach. See Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 4, p. 109:

מכל האמור יש כר נרחב לדון בדבר כפיה לגרש במקום שישנו בטענת המאיס עלי אמתלא מבוררת, ובית הדין רואה צורך השעה לכוף את הבעל לגרש כדי שלא תצא האשה לתרבות רעה.

[14] Piskei Din shel Batei Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 1, p. 141. A decision directly opposed to this was given in 1979 by the Supreme Rabbinical Court. The dayanim were R. Mordechai Eliyahu, R. Joseph Kafih, and R. Shaul Yisraeli. See Piskei Din shel Batei Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 12, p. 25:

אפילו אם נעשה "רועה זונות"לאחר שאשתו עזבה אותו אין לחייבה לחזור ולחיות אמו.

[15] The Sefer Agudah’s ruling is cited in R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 154:1. However, R. Isserles does not provide the Sefer Agudah’s reason, only his conclusion that a man who visits prostitutes can be forced to divorce his wife.

[16] It appears that the Arukh ha-Shulhan derived reason 2 from a formulation in the Sefer Agudah. However, R. Yosef Goldberg argues that the Arukh ha-Shulhan is mistaken and that the Sefer Agudah cannot be seen as a source for this reason. See Goldberg, “Teviat Ishah le-Hayev et Ba’alah be-Get,” Zekhor le-Avraham (2000), vol. 2, pp. 669ff.

[17] See also R. Simeon ben Zemah Durah, She’elot u-Teshuvot Tashbetz, vol. 2, no. 8:

ואפילו לכוף אותו להוציא יש לדון מקל וחומר דבעל פוליפוס, דהשתא מפני ריח הפה כופין, מפני צער תדיר שהוא מר ממות לא כל שכן.

[18] Piskei Din shel Batei ha-Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 8, p. 254.

[19] For a detailed discussion of the matter, see R. Avishai Teherani, Amudei Mishpat, vol. 1, Even ha-Ezer, no. 12. R. Teherani’s own conclusion is as follows:

המכה את אשתו, ואין סכנת נפשות לאשה, אין כופין אותו להוציא, שיש לחוש שלא נכשל בגט מעושה, אכן אם יש לאשה סכנת נפשות אמיתית, כופין אותו לגרשה בטרם יהרגנה, ויש לדיין ליתן עיניו בזה הרבה, כי כבר היו מעשים מעולם [!] ברצח האשה

(emphasis added). This is hardly a position that will find a sympathetic ear among most contemporary Orthodox Jews. R. Hanan Aflalo, Asher Hanan, vols. 3-4, no. 77, adopts an entirely different tone. With regard to the matter of a woman who wants a divorce because her husband visited prostitutes, unlike the decisions already mentioned, R Aflalo shows a real understanding of how a modern woman relates to this sort of thing. He writes as follows (p. 421):

מאסה בו על עצם המחשבה שגופו היה דבק בגופן של נשים אחרות במעשה הניאוף והטינוף שבו, ובכך נגעלת מעצם המחשבה לכך לחזור עמו לחיי אישות ולשלום בית. ובאמת שמילים וטענות אלו יש בהם ממש.

R. Uriel Lavi, av beit din of the Safed beit din that issued the controversial get to a woman whose husband was in a vegetative state (see note 1), and who has been villified in the haredi world and through their pressure kept off the Supreme Rabbinic Court (see here), has the same sympathetic approach as R. Aflalo. See his Ateret Devorah, vol. 2, p. 644:

חיוב הבעל בגט הוא מפני המאיסות שבמעשיו. אמנם בעלמא באומרת מאיס עלי אין כופין גירושין, אך כשמאיסות זו היא כה חמורה ונובעת ממעשיו הנלוזים של הבעל, ואין זו בעיה חריגה של האשה, אלא מאיסות המוכרת והמקובלת בנסיבות אלו אצל כל הנשים, יש לכפות את הבעל.

It is precisely rabbis with this type of modern understanding that can provide a solution to the problem we have been discussing, as we will see in the next post.

[20] Beit Yosef, Even ha-Ezer 154 end, s.v.מצאתי בתשובת רבינו שמחה

[21] Darkhei Moshe, Even ha-Ezer 154:21 (The text is from the Machon Yerushalayim edition which has added material from Darkhei Moshe ha-Arokh).

[22] R. Isserles also adds the following which is relevant to recent events in which a number of people were sentenced to prison for kidnapping and torturing men who refused to give a get.

נראה דטוב שלא לכופו ליתן גט אלא בדרך זה להחרימו או לתופסו בידי גוים או בשוטים שלא להכותה או שיוציא ויתן גט ובדרך זה לא מיקרי כפייה על הגט רק לקיים מה שמחוייב לעשות.

[23] Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 60.

[24] Piskei Din shel Batei ha-Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael, vol. 7, p. 65.

[25] Mishpetei Shaul, no. 34
[26] For a detailed discussion regarding whether the beit din can force a wife beater to divorce his wife, see R. Isaac ben Walid, Va-Yomer Yitzhak, vol. 1, no. 135.

[27] If someone said, “All NRA members are terrorists,” would Waldron think that NRA members also have a right to be protected against that defamation? And if not, why not? What possible legal distinction is there between belonging to a religion and belonging to an organization?

[28] See R. Yehoshua Inbal, Torah she-Ba’al Peh (Jerusalem, 2015), p. 215.

[29] Assaf, Ha-Onshin, p. 25.

[30] Eric Zimmer, Harmony and Discord (New York, 1970), p. 93.

↧

The Agunah Problem, part 2; Wearing a Kippah; More Censorship by ArtScroll

February 2, 2016, 8:04 am

≫ Next: Bridging the Kabbalistic Gap Nefesh HaTzimtzum by Avinoam Fraenkel reviewed by Bezalel Naor

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The Agunah Problem, part 2; Wearing a Kippah; More Censorship by ArtScroll

Marc B. Shapiro

1. Continued from here.

There is even an opinion, which as far as I know is accepted by many, that if a man apostatizes the beit din can still not force him to issue a divorce. This is first mentioned by R. Meir of Rothenburg and his reason is quite surprising. He says that a woman would rather be married to an apostate than not married at all.[1]

כתב מורי רבינו עובר על דת או אפילו משומד אין כופין אותו להוציא ותדע מדלא מנה רשע עם שכופין אותן להוציא וטעמא דטב למיתב טן דו מלמיתב ארמלו אם לא שעבר על דת שקיבל עליו חרם שהוא כלפי דידה כגון שלא להכותה או שלא להקניטה.

This position, and the opposing one that we do force a meshumad to give a get: משומד כופין אותו על ידי גוים, is mentioned by R. Moses Isserles, Even ha-Ezer 154:1.

Today, there is no way in the world that a religious woman would wish remain married to an apostate, so how could the hazakah טב למיתב טן דו מלמיתב ארמלו be applicable in such a case? I therefore don’t see how any beit din could tell a woman whose husband apostatized that they are not able to compel him to divorce her. Incidentally, R. Solomon Luria couldn’t believe that R. Meir of Rothenburg really meant what he said. According to R. Luria, the word משומד here does not mean “apostate” but a משומד לכל התורה, that is, a complete sinner who is still in the Jewish community and can be brought back to Torah observance, perhaps even by his wife.[2]

כל זמן שלא נטמע ביניהם אפי'הוא משומד לכל התורה כולה אין כופין אותו מאחר שיכול לקיים שאירה כסותה ועונתה כראוי וגם אולי על ידה יתחרט ויחזור למוטב ובזה יתיישבו דברי מהר"ם שכתב שאין כופין כלל אפילו משומד.

This is not the standard position as pretty much everyone assumes that R. Meir of Rothenburg was talking about an actual meshumad. Yet it must be noted that as with R. Luria, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg also found R. Meir of Rothenburg’s language strange, since how can you say טב למיתב טן דו מלמיתב ארמלו about a woman living with an apostate? R. Weinberg therefore suggested that perhaps R. Meir just meant a sinner.[3] Elsewhere, R. Weinberg sees it as obvious that a Jewish woman would not want to marry an apostate, even one who has repented from his apostasy.[4]

והנה זה דבר ברור שהמומר מאוס בעיני כל אחד מישראל, ואפילו אם חזר בתשובה שלמה הוא מאוס כשזוכרים שהמיר את דתו, וק"ו ב"ב של ק"ו אם לא עשה תשובה שלמה אלא הרהר תשובה בלבו ואח"כ חזר לסורו שהוא מאוס ואין שום בת ישראל מתפייסת עם אדם כזה.

הכל יודעים ששום בת ישראל לא תנשא לאיש שהמיר דתו אפילו אם עשה אח"כ תשובה בלבו ואפילו אם ימיר את דתו החדשה בדת ישראל.

Just as with the case of a real meshumad, it is hard to imagine that today a woman who wants to divorce her husband because he has become completely non-observant, and the husband refuses to give the get, that this woman would not be regarded as an agunah. I am speaking about the more modern communities. What about in the haredi world? I was shocked to read the following in a recent work by R. Judah Itah explaining why it is that even today a woman would rather be married to an apostate than be alone, something that is obviously factually incorrect and is a terrible indictment of Jewish women.[5]

והנה בדין זה אם כופין המומר לכאורה איירי דבאה האשה ומבקשת מהבי"ד שיעזרו לה לצאת מרשות המומר כי לא טוב לה להיות בחברת המומר. א"כ היאך אתה דוחה את רצונה בנימוק דטוב לה כיון דטב למיתב תן [!] דו וכו'הרי היא זועקת דאין זה טובה בשבילה. וצ"ל דקים לחז"ל דכל אשה רוצה להיות בחברת איש מלהיות בודדה, ומה שאומרת שרצונה לצאת מהמומר לא זה סיבה בגלל המומר אלא אפשר מפני שעיניה נתנה באחר ולכן אין כופין המומר, דלא מאמינים למה שאו'שכל רצונה לא להיות בחברת המומר.

Can R. Itah really believe that a Bais Yaakov girl could live with an apostate and the only reason she would scream to get out of the marriage is because she has her eye on someone else? If there was a haredi woman who chose to remain with an apostate rather than demand a divorce, wouldn’t the haredi world regard her as a traitor?

In the previous post I discussed R. Weinberg’s responsum dealing with a man accused of sexual abuse. In that case, R. Weinberg refused to force him to give a get. This responsum is mentioned in a 2013 decision by the Jerusalem Beit Din available here. In a 2-1 decision the beit din refused to order a convicted sexual abuser to give his wife a get. The majority recommended that the husband give a get, but as far as compelling the husband, or even telling him that he was obligated to give a get, the beit din felt that its hands were tied.

We are taught that the ways of Torah are pleasant. Can it really be that a woman who wants to be divorced from a sexual abuser has no recourse? Must it be the case that the beit din’s hands are tied and the husband can keep his wife a prisoner?

This brings me to a suggestion which can perhaps solve some of the problems at least in the State of Israel. I am not naive enough to think that it will ever be implemented, but I do think that it is a good approach. As I just mentioned, the Jerusalem Beit Din case of the convicted sexual abuser was decided by a 2-1 majority. One of the dayanim thought that the husband could be compelled to give the divorce, but unfortunately for the wife he was in the minority. If you examine the decisions of the various batei din you find that some dayanim are more liberal than others when it comes to ordering the husband to issue a divorce. This doesn’t mean that the other dayanim are “bad guys”, as some feminists like to portray them. They just feel bound by certain halakhic restrictions. The more liberal dayanim, however, follow a halakhic tradition that assumes that if the husband and wife have been separated for a long time, or if there are good reasons for the woman to want a divorce, even if these reasons are not mentioned in the Talmud, then the husband can be forced to issue the get.

Since I think we all agree that freeing women from dead marriages is a positive goal, would it violate any halakhic procedure for certain communities to have batei din composed exclusively of those rabbis who accept the halakhic position that a husband can be obligated to divorce his wife even in cases not specified in the Talmud? This would not be an example of deciding the halakhah before the case was heard, but only of creating a beit din of dayanim who are at least open to a more liberal understanding of when divorce is to be required.

This would no different than the conversion courts set up in Israel recently under the direction of R. Nachum Rabinovitch. Only dayanim who have a liberal perspective on conversion are on this court. This doesn’t mean they will always agree on all points, but they will agree on certain baseline positions. This might be a solution to the sort of case that appeared before the Jerusalem Beit Din, discussed above. Had the make-up of the beit din been different, rather than a 2-1 decision leaving the wife in a miserable marriage perhaps for the rest of her life, the decision could have been 2-1 or 3-0 in her favor.

I don’t think anyone would object if a community said, for example, that they will only hire a rabbi who supports, or opposes, the heter mekhirah. That is the community’s prerogative. So why should it be problematic to say that for certain communities only dayanim who have a liberal perspective on when a husband is obligated to give a get should be seated on batei din dealing with these issues? I think that some dayanim will be fine with this. While their interpretation of halakhah does not generally permit them to obligate a husband to give a get, they recognize that others have a different perspective. It is not uncommon for a posek to tell a questioner that he should inquire of another posek who will probably give him a more lenient answer. For example, both R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and R. Ovadiah Yosef, when confronted with questions about abortion, rather then reply that it was forbidden they advised the questioners to ask R. Eliezer Waldenberg, as he had a more lenient opinion in this matter.[6] Many more such examples could be cited dealing with a whole host of issues.[7]

Here is what appears in R. Eliyahu Sheetrit’s Rabbenu, p. 137.

It describes how R. Ovadiah Yosef did exactly what I am suggesting. He purposely arranged to have a dayan join the beit din on a certain day, knowing how this dayan held in a halakhic matter. In other words, R. Ovadiah was “stacking the deck” to get a decision he believed to be correct. If R. Ovadiah felt comfortable in doing this, then I don’t think there is a problem with picking dayanim who are known to accept the view that men can be required to issue a get in a wide range of cases.

Another way to solve the problems I have written about in the last two posts would be if the batei din accepted the view of R. Moshe Feinstein that when the husband and wife are living separately, and there is no chance of reconciliation, then halakhah requires the husband to give a get. I realize that R. Moshe’s position is not in line with the sources I have previously referred to, but since so much is at stake, perhaps the dayanim could agree that R. Moshe’s position is sufficient to rely on. This is what he states in Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah 4, no. 15:2 (emphasis added):

ובדבר איש ואשה שזה הרבה שנים שליכא שלום בית, וכבר שנה וחצי דרים במקומות מופרדים, וכבר ישבו ב"ד חשוב ולא עלה בידם לעשות שלום ביניהם. וראינו גילוי דעת חתום מהב"ד שלא הועיל כל השתדלותם לעשות שום. וכנראה מזה שהב"ד סובר שא"א לעשות שלום ביניהם. אז מדין התורה באופן כזה מוכרחין להתגרש ואין רשות לשום צד לעגן, לא הבעל את אשתו ולא האשה את הבעל, בשום עיכוב מצד תביעת ממון. אלא צריכים לילך לפני ב"ד לסדר התביעות בענייני ממון ולסדר נתינת וקבלת הגט.

R. Moshe’s approach was anticipated by R. Hayyim Palache in the 19^th century. Therefore, if some poskim feel that R. Moshe’s authority isn’t enough to rely on, R. Palache words might be sufficient for them (and indeed, in recent years some dayanim have relied on R. Palache).[8] R. Palache actually sounds like he is describing the contemporary scene when he says that if either husband or wife refuses to allow the divorce to go through in order to take revenge on a spouse, that the heavenly punishment for such an action is very great. He then says that if it has been eighteen months and the couple still can’t get along, then the husband is forced to give a divorce.[9]

וידעו נאמנה כי כל הבא לעכב מלתת גט בענין זה כדי להנקם זה מזה מחמת קינאה ושינאה ותחרות כאשר יהיה האופן פעמים שהאיש רוצה לגרש והאשה אינה רוצה וכדי להנקם מהאיש מעכבים הדבר שלא לש"ש עתידין ליתן את הדין . . . וכמו כן להפך כשהאשה רוצה להתגרש והאיש איו רוצה וכדי להנקם מהאשה מעכבים מלתת גט שלא לש"ש כם בזה לא בחר ה'ויש עונש מן השמים . . . והנני נותן קצבה וזמן לדבר הזה דאם יארע איזה מחלוקת בין איש לאשתו וכבר נלאו לתווך השלום ואין להם תקנה ימתינו עד זמן ח"י חדשים ואם בינם לשמים נראה לב"ד שלא יש תקנה לשום שלום ביניהם, יפרידו הזווג ולכופם לתת גט עד שיאמרו רוצה אני.

As I mentioned, some dayanim will be very content not to sit on cases where their stringent approach will lead to a situation where the husband is not obligated to give his wife a get. They will recognize the problems women are sometimes placed in because of their approach and be happy that other dayanim have a different perspective, even though they themselves cannot agree. What then to do about the dayanim with a stringent perspective who will not agree to recuse themselves? I don’t see any reason why communities cannot declare that they do not wish to accept a situation where women are locked in dead marriages if there are valid halakhic options. As such, they will only hire dayanim who adopt a liberal perspective as to when a husband can be obligated to issue a divorce. This does not mean that these communities would be deciding cases in place of the dayanim, and every case is obviously different. However, there is nothing wrong with inquiring of a dayan what his halakhic philosophy is before seating him on the bench. This has nothing to do with deciding specific cases, as anyone who has ever watched a Supreme Court nominee hearing understands.[10] You are permitted to ask a question of a posek whom you assume will offer a lenient decision, as long as you are prepared to follow the decision even if in the end it is not what you expected. By the same token, one can appoint as a rav or a dayan someone whose halakhic philosophy is in line with the values of the community he will serve. That is all that I am suggesting.

As mentioned in the last post, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg states that if there is a dispute among halakhic authorities, we must reject the view that will bring the Torah into disrepute in people's eyes (Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 60):

ואגלה להדר"ג [הגרא"י אונטרמן] מה שבלבי: שמקום שיש מחלוקת הראשונים צריכים הרבנים להכריע נגד אותה הדעה, שהיא רחוקה מדעת הבריות וגורמת לזלזול וללעג נגד תוה"ק.

This formulation of R. Weinberg can provide justification for the approach I am suggesting. Interested readers should also examine R. Eliezer Waldenberg, Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 5, no. 26, where he writes to R. Elyashiv and justifies his liberal perspective. He sums up his position with these important words

ואחרי זאת בקחתנו גם בחשבון חומר השעה המיוחד שאנו חיים בה בתקופתנו אשר רבו שוטני התורה וכן בראותינו פירצת הדור הצעיר המנוער מתורה ויראת שמים וכשלא מוצא אוזן קשבת לדבריו עושה במחשך מעשיו, וכמה פעמים הרי אזנינו שומעות ולא זר מהמכשולים הגדולים שהנשים נכשלות ומכשילות את הרבים באיסור א"א ואנו עומדים רפה אונים באין בידינו להעמיד הדת על תלה, נדמה לי ששפיר ישנו במה שכתבתי בספרי שם כר נרחב לתת מקום לדון בכובד ראש בהערכת כל מקרה ומקרה שלטענת מאוס עלי ולהשתמש לפי הצורך בכפיה . . . ולכן לפענ"ד נאמנים המה דבריו של המהר"א טוואה בחוט המשולש שכותב שאפי'לדעת הסוברים שלא לכוף אם יש צורך שעה בכפייה יכופו דאין לדיין אלא מה שעיניו רואות, ובלבד שתהא כוונת הדיין לש"ש ויחקור על הדבר כראוי.

I quoted R. Waldenberg at length as there are some people who thought that my previous post sounded "reformist", because I argued that divorce halakhah should not be decided in a vacuum but should take into account the contemporary reality. As you can see, this is exactly what R. Waldenberg says.

R. Waldenberg concludes that the final decision on this matter should come from all the rabbinic courts in Israel. He does not want to have a situation like we have today, where different courts have entirely different approaches when it comes to how to deal with divorce law.

There is another point that is important to make. I have heard people say that the problem of the agunah that we have today, where a man refuses to give his wife a get, is a new phenomenon. This is completely incorrect, as this phenomenon is already seen in the medieval responsa. However, you won’t generally find it discussed among the responsa that deal with agunah. The matter is discussed when dealing with whether one can be forced to give a divorce. From medieval times until the present, women in unhappy marriages have demanded divorces. As we have seen, in situations that many people today would consider cases of agunah, in prior generations the rabbis ruled that the woman was not entitled to a get.

Even in earlier years, however, we do find examples of agunot where the husband refused to give a get, even after being told to so by a beit din, and the community tried to help. The 19^th century Hebrew newspapers have a number of such cases. Here is one example that appeared in Ha-Magid, Feb. 13, 1861, pp. 27-28.

It is interesting that when they caught up with the man they imprisoned him in the rabbi’s house. They also took his money and used it as leverage.

Let me make one final point. In matters of divorce my feeling is that when either husband or wife wants a get, and it is obvious that there is no future in the marriage, then neither party should prevent the divorce from taking place. There shouldn’t be any reason to go to a beit din to force a divorce. Adults should be able to see that the marriage isn’t working out and come to a conclusion that it is time to end it. Any husband who chooses to withhold a get when he knows that the marriage is over is acting in a very cruel way, and the full weight of halakhically acceptable communal pressure should be brought on him. Nothing should scandalize us more than a so-called religious person keeping his wife captive as a means of revenge. I would even suggest reading the names of some agunot during the Shabbat prayers, in order to sensitize people to the issue.

I know that many people will regard what I have just written as obvious. What I will now say might anger some, but I think that it too should be obvious. I have often heard it said that a get should never be withheld, and that the get should be given immediately. For example, on ORA’s website it states: “[I]t is never acceptable to refuse to issue a get once the marriage is irreconcilable.” On JOFA’s website it states: “As soon as it becomes clear that there will be no reconciliation, the Get should be written and delivered to the woman so that it cannot be used as a bargaining tool in financial or custody negotiations.”

While in general both these statements are correct, it is not correct that this is always the case. For instance, let’s say the wife runs away to Europe with the kids. Does anyone seriously think that the husband is still obligated to give her a get? In such a circumstance it is entirely appropriate for the husband to insist that she come back to the United States and settle all custody issues before a get is issued. Or let’s say a husband and wife separated, and the wife refuses to let the husband see his children. It could be many months before the secular court rules on the matter of visitation. Why would anyone think that in the meantime the husband is obligated to give his wife a get if she refuses to allow him to see his children? I don’t think that there is any reputable beit din in the world that would side with the woman in these two cases. These are obviously extreme examples, and have nothing to do with the typical agunah case we hear about. Yet we should be aware that there are nuances that sometimes come into play, and every case must be investigated by a reputable beit din before judgments are made.

Finally, those who want to learn more about the matters we have been discussing should consult R. Shmuel Gartner's detailed book, Kefiyah be-Get (Jerusalem, 1998). A 2000 page book with the title Mishpat ha-Get has just appeared. I have not yet seen it but it must have important material as well. There is also another book that is worth noting, R. Raphael Aaron Ben-Shimon's Bat Na'avat ha-Mardut (Jerusalem, 1917). R. Ben-Shimon (died 1928) was a leading Egyptian rabbi and author of a number of significant works. What makes Bat Na'avat ha-Mardut of particular interest is that he has a number of formulations that if written today would lead certain people to claim that he was a feminist or an adherent of Open Orthodoxy. For example:

P. 4:

ואמנם בזמנינו זה הנה מתלאה, כי הוסב דין המורדת לאכזריות נוראה כי בתי דינין בזמנינו האחרונים, לסיבת כי לא מצאו כל הדין מפורש מה יעשה לה להמורדת בטענת מאיס עלי ואחרי אשר אין לנו עתה דין הכפיה לכוף את הבעל לגרש בשום אופן אחזו בשיטת החומרא עד דיוטא התחתונה, ושמו להם לקו כי המורדת היא כאשה מפרת באמונה וכל חמירא דאיכא ברשותייהו נתנו אותה על ראש המורדת האומללה, כאלו הוא דין דאיסור והיתר אשר המחמיר בה בטוח הוא ממכשול יותר מהמתיר, וע"כ העמידוה על גחליה ריקה. חופשה לא ניתן לה, הפסידה נדוניתה וכ"ש כתובתה, ואף אם חזרה בה לא יקבלו תשובתה

P. 8:

דהרמב"ם ז"ל נתמלא חמלה וחנינה על בנות ישראל

P. 154:

ואמינא ולא מסתפינא שאם היה הרמב"ם ז"ל חי אתנו היום, היה מרעיש העולם, על אחרוני זמננו אשר דנין את המורדת דמאיס עלי במשפט מר וקשה ואכזרי כנ"ל, ואומר בקול רם הלא תבושו הלא תכלמו לתלות בי קלון אכזריות כזאת אשר לא דמיתי, ולא עלתה על לבי, הן אנכי חסתי על נפשות בנות ישראל, שיחיו חיי צער ויהיו כשפחות וכשבויות חרב להבעל לאיש שנוי [שנאוי] נפשם

2. In the previous post I referred to a couple of Supreme Rabbinic Court decisions. In these cases R. Elyashiv was a member of the court and the decisions were published in the Piskei Din shel Batei Din ha-Rabaniyim be-Yisrael. In both of the cases I cited the decision was unanimous and no individual dayan is recorded as having authored the published decision. Nevertheless, the rulings are reprinted in R. Elyashiv’s Kovetz Teshuvot, vol. 1, as if they were written by him alone (and maybe they were, but no evidence for this is provided). This volume was not published by R. Elyashiv but by one of his followers, and is a collection of previously published court rulings and responsa. There are 253 sections and the table of contents at the beginning of the volume provides the original sources of all the material.

When you look at the list of sources you find something unusual. While the names of the various books and journals are given one also finds some abbreviations. This is strange since these abbreviations are nowhere explained, and abbreviations are only used for a very small number of the many different sources. I was unable to figure out what all of the abbreviations mean but I did figure out the following:

פ"ד = פסקי דין של בתי הדין הרבניים בישראל

י"א = יביע אומר

ד"י = דרך ישרה

מ"ש = משפטי שאול

When reprinting rulings from R. Elyashiv that appeared in the Israeli government Beit Din publication, rather than telling the reader where they are taken from, all we get is פ"ד. Similarly, the typical reader will have no way of knowing that material has been taken from R. Ovadiah Yosef’s Yabia Omer, R. Yitzhak Yedidyah Frankel’s Derekh Yesharah, and R. Shaul Yisraeli’s Mishpetei Shaul. Obviously, for the individual who published the Kovetz Teshuvot, there is something problematic with all of these individuals, and with the government beit din, and he therefore wouldn’t even mention the name of their publications.

If you look at Yabia Omer, vol. 3, Orah Hayyim no. 33, and Mishpetei Shaul, no. 34 you can see the original letters from R. Elyashiv. Needless to say, in these letters he relates to R. Ovadiah and R. Yisraeli as valued rabbinic colleagues. However, in Kovetz Teshuvot the beginning of the letters has been deleted, and the reader therefore has no idea who R. Elyashiv was corresponding with. Elsewhere in Kovetz Teshuvot, when the recipient of a letter is “kosher” in the eyes of the publisher, the beginning of the letter is indeed included.[11] For some reason, in the list of sources the publisher does not abbreviate the titles of R. Isaac Herzog’s Heikhal Yitzhak and R. Yitzhak Nissim’s Yein ha-Tov. Yet he still deletes the beginning of R. Elyashiv’s letters taken from these books, so the reader does not see the very respectful way he refers to R. Herzog and R. Nissim. Here, for example, is how R. Elyashiv’s letter appears in Heikhal Yitzhak, vol. 2, no. 24.

As you can see from the titles R. Elyashiv gives to R. Herzog, he has the utmost reverence for him.

Here is how the page appears in Kovetz Teshuvot, where all this is deleted.

Also, notice how at the beginning of the letter in the original it says אני מודה לכ"ג מרן, yet the wordמרן is deleted from Kovetz Teshuvot. In the second paragraph R. Elyashiv writes

ואנכי לא באתי בשורות אלה אלא להשיב על מה שהעיר מרן שליט"א

In Kovetz Teshuvot מרן has been removed, leaving us with להשיב על מה שהעיר שליט"א, which doesn’t make sense since שליט"א does not follow a verb.[12]

For those who have read my new book, this example will not be surprising and illustrates once again the lack of basic intellectual integrity that we find in some segments of the haredi world. From the response to my book, I can tell you that the ones most upset about this sort of thing are none other than haredim. They really believe in the haredi outlook and can’t understand why some members of their society, such as the publisher of Kovetz Teshuvot, feel that the haredi position is so weak that it can only survive by misleading people. How could a haredi not be upset when seeing how a publisher feels that he knows better than R. Elyashiv which rabbis are deserving of respect, and therefore takes upon himself to “correct” R. Elyashiv’s “mistakes”? If this is not a complete undermining of Daas Torah, then I don’t know what is.

3. In this post I referred to the German Orthodox practice of men not wearing a kippah. R. Yoel Catane informed me on the authority of his mother, a native of Frankfurt and a relative of the Breuer family, that even R. Joseph Breuer when he taught secular subjects at the Hirsch school in Frankfurt did so without a kippah. R. Catane also points out that many German Orthodox Jews continued the practice of going bareheaded even when they came to Israel. R. Catane gives as an example of this Yitzhak Ernst Nebenzahl, who served as State Comptroller in Israel and was punctilious in his Torah observance. His son is the famous Rabbi Avigdor Nebenzahl. Even in his old age in Jerusalem, the elder Nebenzahl continued his practice of going bareheaded, which when it came to the German Orthodox was not a reflection about their level of piety. Here is a picture of him without a kippah.

Dr. Aharon Barth, a grandson of R. Azriel Hildesheimer, was also a well-known German Orthodox Jew. He served as the director of Bank Leumi and was one of the two people whose signature was on the first currency of the State of Israel. He also wrote the Orthodox philosophical work Dorenu Mul She’elot Netzah, which has been reprinted a number of times and has also been translated into English, French, and German. You can read about Barth here. Here is his picture showing him bareheaded.

R. Catane mentioned the following anecdote. Once Barth was giving a lecture to bankers in Israel and he heard some thunder. He stopped the talk, took a kippah out of his pocket and put it on his head, made the blessing on the thunder, then put the kippah back into his pocket and continued with the lecture.

4. In Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox I wrote about how in its English translation of R. Zevin’s Ha-Moadim ba-Halakhah, ArtScroll censored references to Saul Lieberman, removing his rabbinic title. Leon Well pointed out to me that ArtScroll didn’t just remove the “R.”, but in one case removed Lieberman’s name entirely. In Ha-Moadim ba-Halakhah (Tel Aviv, 1955), p. 133, in the article on Shemini Atzeret, R. Zevin writes:

בנוגע לתוספתא משער ר"ש ליברמאן [!] ב"תוספת ראשונים"השערה חריפה

In the Festivals in Halachah, vol. 1, p. 346, the following “translation” appears: “As regards the passage from Tosefta on which Rashi’s interpretation is based, Tosefes Rishonim ventures a daring speculation.”

On the topic of Saul Lieberman’s name being censored, Professor Yaakov Spiegel called my attention to the following. Here is R. Dov Berish Zuckerman’s Beit Aharon: Beurei ha-Rambam al pi ha-Meiri (Jerusalem, 1984) p. 311.

This volume appeared posthumously, published by Machon Yerushalayim. If you look at the second column, 6 lines from the bottom, it says שוב הראני חכם אחד. Who is the anonymous scholar? What appears in this book had earlier been printed in Talpiot 4 (1949), p. 139. In the original we find הר"ש ליברמן שליט"א.[13]

David Farkas called my attention to another case of ArtScroll censorship, this time in its new Midrash Rabbah. Here is a page from Bereshit Rabbah, Miketz, Parashah 90.

In the Etz Yosef commentary there are three dots, showing that something is missing. This is the only time I am aware of that when ArtScroll engaged in censorship they let the reader know that something was removed, so I guess we have to be thankful for this.

What was so terrible in the Etz Yosef that ArtScroll had to delete it? Here is the uncensored version of the commentary, and as you can see, Etz Yosef cited Mendelssohn. That is why it had to be removed.

While on the topic of censorship, let me share another example of censorship of R. Kook. This time R. Kook's name is removed from R. Meir Abovitz’s commentary on the Jerusalem Talmud.

5. I want to call readers’ attention to a new book recently sent to me by R. Yaakov Shapiro. Its title is Halachic Positions: What Judaism Really Says About Passion in the Marital Bed, available here. This is the most detailed book there is on halakhah and marital sexuality. In many ways it is designed to counter a lot of the stringencies that have arisen over time and which the author feels are non-halakhic and also psychologically unhealthy, thus making a happy, balanced marriage much more difficult. You can also watch the author here, here and here. I think readers will be surprised, and perhaps upset, when they learn that some of what they have been told is forbidden is actually permitted according to the standard halakhic authorities. See also what I wrote here in note 26.

I also should add that this book is not for the prudish, as it is very explicit in what it discusses. This in fact relates to one of the themes of the book, that halakhah itself is not prudish as sex is an important part of life and is discussed in halakhic works just like everything else. Having said that, I must note that there is a difference between being prudish and refraining from inappropriate slang when discussing halakhic matters. While the author is careful in this matter, he does refer to another recent book that makes this mistake. I am uncomfortable in even recording the title of this other new halakhic work by Rabbi S. Even-Shoshan, but readers can see it here.

I don’t think I am being overly fastidious if I say that in my opinion any halakhic work with a title like that should not be regarded as a legitimate text. My yardstick in this regard is if one would feel comfortable using a word when speaking with a great rabbi or when giving a lecture. Thus, while the term “oral sex” is fine (and I was even present when a well-known rav was asked a question using these words), for the life of me I can’t understand how a rabbi discussing a halakhic topic can use a slang word.[14] In fact, I don’t think that even an acceptable term like “oral sex” should be used in the title of a book, as it is needlessly provocative. This sort of provocative title is also found with another book published by Rabbi Even-Shoshan. One who wants to write about these matters should use a title like “Jewish Sexual Ethics” or “Marital Intimacy in Halakhah”, with all the details discussed in the book.[15]

6. In the last post I wrote about a dispute in understanding a text between Rabbis Israel Brodie and Shlomo Yosef Zevin on one side, and Profs. Shlomo Zalman Havlin and Israel Moshe Ta-Shma on the other. I was incorrect in this, as R. Zevin actually agrees with Havlin and Ta-Shma. Thanks to Rabbi Dovid Solomon for noting this.

[1] Hagahot Maimoniyot, Hilkhot Ishut 25:4.

[2] She’elot u-Teshuvot Maharshal, no. 41. Cf. Yam Shel Shelomo, Yevamot 4:22.

[3] Seridei Esh, vol. 3, p. 75.

[4] Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2, pp. 443, 447.

[5] Even Sapir (Jerusalem, 2013), pp. 358-359.

[6] See R. Ovadiah Yosef, Ma’yan Omer, vol. 8, p. 173; R Nahum Stepansky, Ve-Alehu Lo Yibol, vol. 3, p. 296.

[7] Since I referred to Ve-Alehu Lo Yibol in the last note, see also in this book, vol. 3, p. 191, for another example, this time dealing with a kashrut issue. R. Auerbach thought that the matter was forbidden, but stated that if the questioner wished he could also ask R. Waldenberg for his opinion. See also ibid., p. 212, where the author asked a question of R. Waldenberg and he replied, “Do not ask me. I am stringent in this matter. Go to R. Ovadiah and ask him.”

[8] Hayyim ve-Shalom, vol. 2, no. 112. Another important source is R. Shlomo Moshe Amar, Shema Shelomo, vol. 3, Even ha-Ezer no. 19. In an email to me, Prof. Amichai Radzyner noted that in recent years many dayanim have been adopting a more liberal position regarding when a husband can be forced to give a get, and also when he is told that he is obligated to give a get even if the court cannot force him. Much important material in this regard is found in the many issues of the journal Ha-Din ve-ha-Dayan, found here.

[9] R. Palache’s responsum is cited by many and is an important source for those who have argued for a more liberal approach to Jewish divorce law. I don’t think anyone will be surprised that R. Abraham Samuel Judah Gestetner, who in his Megilat Plaster [Monsey, 2014] makes the ridiculous argument that R. Jacob Emden’s Megilat Sefer is a Haskalah forgery, also says that this responsum of R. Palache was inserted into the volume by an unknown heretic. See ibid., p. 85.

[10] My own opinion is that no one should be appointed a dayan in the State of Israel unless he has served in the army. After all, how can a dayan understand the people appearing before him without having had such an experience? Yet I realize that this is a pipe dream.

[11] Strangely enough, he includes the beginning of the letter to R. Yitzhak Yedidyah Frankel even though, as I have mentioned, he doesn’t tell us where the letter comes from.

[12] The censorship in Kovetz Teshuvot was also noted by Avraham (Rami) Reiner in his fine article, “Kavim Rishoni’im le-Darko ha-Hikhatit shel ha-Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv,” Netuim 17 (2011), p. 78 n. 12.

[13] R. Zuckerman also mentions Lieberman’s point, and refers to him by name, in Kol Torah 12 (Adar 5718), p. 22.

[14] It is worth noting that there are some passages in rabbinic literature that if said by anyone today would be regarded as nibul peh (this is the correct transliteration, not “nivul”). See Changing the Immutable, ch. 6, for some examples. See also Megillah 25b: “R. Huna b. Manoah said in the name of R. Aha the son of R. Ika: It is permitted to an Israelite to say to a Cuthean, Take your idol and put it in your שי"ן תי"ו (buttocks).” Tanna de-Vei Eliyahu: Eliyahu Zuta, ch. 22 (end), is very explicit: 'בני אותו מקום שאתה אוהב וכו

[15] An example of what I am talking about is Jennie Rosenfeld and David Ribner, The Newlywed Guide to Physical Intimacy. This book is explicit in its discussion, but the title is an appropriate one.

↧

Bridging the Kabbalistic Gap Nefesh HaTzimtzum by Avinoam Fraenkel reviewed by Bezalel Naor

February 5, 2016, 7:28 am

≫ Next: Open Orthodoxy and Its Main Critic, part 1

≪ Previous: The Agunah Problem, part 2; Wearing a Kippah; More Censorship by ArtScroll

Bridging the Kabbalistic Gap

Nefesh HaTzimtzum by Avinoam Fraenkel

Vol. 1: Rabbi Chaim Volozhin’s Nefesh HaChaim with Translation and Commentary

Volume 2: Understanding Nefesh HaChaim through the Key Concept of Tzimtzum and Related Writings

(Jerusalem: Urim, 2015)

Reviewed by Bezalel Naor

Recently there has been a spate of English translations of the classic of Mitnagdic philosophy, Nefesh ha-Hayyim by Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin (1749-1821), eminent disciple of the Vilna Gaon. This is perhaps the most glorious—certainly the lengthiest—of the translations,one that attempts to rewrite the debate between Hasidim and Mitnagdim.

The present edition, the most extensive to date, is divided in two volumes. Volume One consists of a Hebrew-English edition of the entire book with the exception of the famous note by the author’s son, Rabbi Isaac (Itzeleh) of Volozhin, known as “Ma’amar Be-Tzelem.” That note and other related writings of Rabbi Hayyim have been translated in Volume Two. In a unique typesetting innovation, the translator divides the complex Hebrew sentences into phrases, easing the English reading.

In the lengthy introduction to Volume Two, entitled “Tzimtzum—The Key to Nefesh HaChaim,” Avinoam Fraenkel has carved out for himself a most ambitious goal: to tackle the perennial problem of latter-day Kabbalah, namely the Lurianic doctrine of Tzimtzum or divine self-contraction. Traditionally, there have been two schools of thought on the matter: those who hold “tzimtzum ki-peshuto,” i.e. the doctrine is to be taken literally; and those convinced that “tzimtzum she-lo ki-peshuto,” i.e. Tzimtzum is not to be taken literally. As Fraenkel points out, this terminology first gained currency in the debate between two Italian kabbalists, Rabbi Joseph Ergas (author Shomer Emunim) and Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi (author Yosher Levav) back in 1736-7.[1]

Fraenkel’s thesis is that even when things are “pashut” (simple), they truly are not so “pashut” (simple). Even when a kabbalist such as Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv (author Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah) writes boldly that he understands the doctrine literally as did the author of Yosher Levav—that requires complexification.

You might ask of what concern is this rarefied debate to the masses of Jews living in the twenty-first century. Ah! It just so happens that many if not most historians have assumed that this debate, which translates into transcendentalist versus immanentist theology, was at the heart of the terrible controversy between the Mitnagdim and Hasidim that tore apart East European Jewry in the late eighteenth century. At that time, the Vilna Gaon issued a herem, an official rabbinic ban excommunicating the followers of the Ba’al Shem Tov.

If it can be proven that there is essentially no difference of theology between the Tanya (the “Bible” of Hasidism), written by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Habad school of Hasidism, and the Nefesh ha-Hayyim (the “Shulhan ‘Arukh” of Mitnagdic ideology), then we will have dissolved any continuing animus between Hasidim and Mitnagdim, and “Shalom ‘al Yisrael” (Peace to Israel). This is the fondest wish of the author.

The truth is—as the author makes us aware—this is not the first attempt to smooth over theological differences between the Tanya and Nefesh ha-Hayyim. On the eve of World War Two, Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler—a preeminent master of the Mussar school, Mashgi’ah Ruhani of Gateshead and later of the Ponevezh Yeshivah in B’nei Berak—then residing in London, wished to issue a proclamation to the effect that there is essentially no mahloket, no difference of opinion between Rabbi Shneur Zalman and Rabbi Hayyim regarding the correct interpretation of Tzimtzum. Rabbi Dessler’s distinguished houseguest at the time was Rabbi Yitzhak Horowitz (known in Lubavitch as “Reb Itche Der Masmid,” on account of his legendary “hatmadah,” or devotion to learning), who acted as fundraiser on behalf of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Joseph Isaac Schneersohn. Rabbi Dessler asked Rabbi Horowitz to sign on the proclamation.

To make a long story short, eventually Rabbi Dessler’s overtures were forwarded to the son-in-law of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (eventual successor to his father-in-law as Rebbe of Lubavitch), who penned a formal reply. For the life of him, Rabbi M.M. Schneerson could not fathom how someone with competence in Kabbalah (which Rabbi Dessler certainly did possess) could fail to see the obvious differences between the Habad and Volozhin understandings of Tzimtzum. (Rabbi Schneerson further outlined that there was a difference between the Vilna Gaon and his student Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin regarding Tzimtzum, a point in the letter which continues to rile Mitnagdim to this day. In fact, Rabbi Yosef Zussman of Jerusalem, eminent disciple of Rabbi Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap, wrote several unanswered letters to the Lubavitcher Rebbe remonstrating how absurd it is to entertain the notion that Rabbi Hayyim, who adored his master the Gaon, disagreed with him on so basic an issue.)

Left without a “partner in peace” of the opposite camp, Rabbi Dessler’s proclamation was buried. Where titans such as Rabbis Dessler and Schneerson could not see eye to eye, Avinoam Fraenkel certainly has his work cut out for him. Before we proceed further to the “nuts and bolts” of the Tanya—Nefesh ha-Hayyim debate, the reader may wish to listen to some music pleasing to the ear:

·         When Rabbi Abraham Mordechai Alter, Rebbe of Gur (“Imrei Emet”) asked Rav Kook how he knew so much Hasidut, Rav Kook responded that he had studied Nefesh ha-Hayyim.
·         Rabbi Michael Eliezer Forshlager of Baltimore, a foremost student of Rabbi Avraham Bornstein, Rebbe of Sokhatchov (author Responsa Avnei Nezer) carried in his tallit bag a volume which consisted of Tanya and Nefesh ha-Hayyim bound together at Rabbi Forshlager’s special request.
·         Once around the family table in Brooklyn, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (by then Lubavitcher Rebbe) spoke so enthusiastically of Nefesh ha-Hayyim that his brother-in-law Rabbi Shemariah Gurary said in jest: “Then perhaps we Hasidim should take to studying Nefesh ha-Hayyim.”

Back to the mahloket. What are the cold facts concerning the debate?

It is incontrovertible that Rabbi Hayyim has stood the Zohar’s terms “memale kol ‘almin” (“filling all worlds”) and “sovev kol ‘almin” (“surrounding all worlds”) on their heads. What for the Tanya is “memale kol ‘almin,” is for Nefesh ha-Hayyim, “sovev kol ‘almin,” and vice versa. Rabbi Shelomo Fisher of Jerusalem has written that this is merely semantics.[2] Others read into the shift of terminology a substantive controversy as to Weltanschauung. What for Hasidism is common experience, namely the immanence, the immediate presence of God, is for Mitnagdism a recondite mystery reserved for the elite.

In the words of Rabbi Eizik of Homel, a major disciple of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi and of his son, Rabbi Dov Baer of Lubavitch (Mitteler Rebbe):

This belief is possessed by all the Hasidim, but the Mitnagdim, even those who are not etc. [the word etc. occurs in the original], do not have this faith, only in a very, very concealed manner, as Israel were in Egypt…They have no room for this faith that Altz iz Gott (All is God).[3]

Fraenkel observes that much of the “poisoning of the waters” was done by publication of a spurious letter attributed to the “Alter Rebbe,” Rabbi Shneur Zalman, in the anonymous Matzref ha-‘Avodah (Koenigsberg, 1858). Later the letter was incorporated in Heilman’s more responsible Beit Rebbi (Berdichev, 1902). In the forged epistle, Rabbi Shneur Zalman writes that it has come to his awareness that the Vilna Gaon understands Tzimtzum literally.

This letter contributed to Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson’s formulation concerning the Vilna Gaon’s view of Tzimtzum. One might mistakenly assume that once the letter is exposed as a forgery, Habad should have no problem accepting that there truly was no disagreement between the two rival camps concerning Tzimtzum. But Fraenkel knows that this is not the end of his troubles.

There is the matter of the passage in the second part of Tanya (titled Sha‘ar ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah) which reserves some pretty harsh language for the literalists:

…the error of some wise men in their own eyes, may the Lord forgive them, who erred and were mistaken in their study of the writings of the Ari, of blessed memory, and understood the doctrine of Tzimtzum mentioned there literally, that the Holy One, blessed be He, withdrew Himself and His essence, God forbid, from this world, only that He supervises from above.[4]

Who are the unnamed villains of this passage? To endeavor to answer this question, we would do well to research the printing history of the Tanya. The passage in question was missing from all editions of the Tanya printed before the year 1900. In that year, the passage surfaced in the Romm edition printed in Vilna at the behest of Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schneersohn of Lubavitch. Until that time, it had been preserved in manuscript in the keeping of the heirs of the Ba‘al ha-Tanya. That means that for over a century since the Tanya was first printed in Slavuta in 1796, this sensitive piece—a sort of J’accuse, if you will—was suppressed. Why was it ever suppressed to begin with, and why was it finally revealed in 1900?

An obvious solution would be that the passage obliquely lambasted the Vilna Gaon, and it was not until a century later that a direct descendant of the author felt that times had changed and that the sociological “climate” had warmed sufficiently to allow for an unexpurgated version of the Tanya to appear in print. This time, no herem would be issued in Vilna.

And for the record, Rabbi Menachem Mendel was not the first Schneerson to assume that the Gaon understood Tzimtzum literally. Earlier, the Rebbe of Kopyst, Rabbi Shelomo Zalman Schneerson (1830-1900), author Magen Avot, wrote in a letter to Rabbi Don Tumarkin: “This is the entire subject of Tzimtzum, and this is the Hasidism of the Ba‘al Shem Tov and the Maggid, may they rest in peace, that the Tzimtzum is not to be taken literally, as opposed to the opinion of the Mishnat Hasidim [i.e. Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi] and the Gaon Rabbi Elijah, of blessed memory.”[5]

Fraenkel is not willing to accept that the passage in Tanya is directed at the Vilna Gaon or earlier Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi. He stands in good company. Upon receipt of Hayyim Yitzhak Bunin’s Mishneh Habad II (Warsaw, 1933), Rav Kook wrote back to the author requesting that he retract his statement that the pejorative “wise men in their own eyes” refers to the author of Mishnat Hasidim and the Gaon of Vilna.[6]

But then the question remains. Who are the “bad guys” of the Tanya? Fraenkel would have us believe that the reference is to the likes of the crypto-Sabbatian Nehemiah Hiyya Hayyon, against whom Ergas inveighed in his polemical works Tokhahat Megulah and Ha-Tzad Nahash (London, 1715).[7]

If that were the case, the language of the Tanya is too mild and reserved. Sabbatians (believers in pseudo-Messiah Shabtai Tzevi) are usually treated to much more invective, such as “blasted be their bones.” There is a parallel passage in the work of Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz of Starosselje, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah. There the language is even more compassionate and conciliatory. It is hard to imagine that the Ba‘al ha-Tanya and his prime pupil Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz would show such empathy towards a Sabbatian heresiarch. With very few exceptions, members of the rabbinate were not “melamed zekhut” when it came to deviants of the Sabbatian persuasion. The passage reads:

…As it occurred to some latter-day kabbalists who attempt to be wise (mithakmim)…to understand Tzimtzum literally, as if He contracted Himself, and this is a crime, and their sin is too great to forbear, but their merit is that they have not spoken all these things with premeditation, God forbid, but rather from lack of understanding. May the Lord forgive them, “for in respect of all the people it was done in error” (Numbers 15:26).[8]

Tzimtzum-literalism is not a characteristically Sabbatian posture, nor is it the exclusive domain of Sabbatians. Rabbi Jacob Emden, the arch-nemesis of the Sabbatians, took Tzimtzum literally, drawing an analogy to the vacuum created by a pump.[9] In fact, Emden excoriated Ricchi for belaboring the point, when “certainly, absolutely, it is not to be construed other than literally, and it is one of the a priori assumptions for the believer in our holy religion, if not for anti-religious apikorsim who do not concede the creation of the world.”[10]

There is another problem with deflecting the Tanya’s critique away from the Gaon of Vilna toward Sabbatian kabbalists. If Sabbatians were being targeted, then why did the passage need to be suppressed at all? The Vilna Gaon and his disciples were certainly condemnatory of Sabbatianism in all its guises, so there would have been nothing in the passage to give offense to the Mitnagdim, the opponents of Hasidism.

Fraenkel’s work is much more difficult than that of Rabbi Dessler, for Fraenkel has tasked himself with harmonizing the view of Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv (1841-1926), author of Leshem, as well. Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv wrote—both in his Helek ha-Bi’urim and in his recently published correspondence with fellow Mitnagdic kabbalist Rabbi Naftali Herz Halevi Weidenbaum—that he subscribes to the literalist interpretation of Tzimtzum as described in Ricchi’s Yosher Levav.[11] The Leshem went so far as to cast aspersions on the Likkutim printed at the conclusion of Bi’ur ha-Gra to Sifra di-Tzeni‘uta, which present a non-literal reading of Tzimtzum.[12]

Professor Mordechai Pachter was struck by the most incongruous dovetailing of the perspectives of Lubavitch and Leshem concerning the Vilna Gaon’s interpretation of Tzimtzum. Both ascribe to the Gaon a literalist interpretation.[13]

“To cut to the chase,” Fraenkel’s strategy for reconciling what appear glaring differences of opinion involves invoking the kabbalistic theory of relativity, namely the distinction between the divine perspective and the human perspective. The Aramaic expressions that convey this thought are “le-gabei dideh” versus “le-gabei didan.”[14] (In Nefesh ha-Hayyim, the Hebrew terms “mi-tzido”/”mi-tzidenu” serve the same purpose.)[15] This distinction is certainly a valuable tool but it should not be overused. It strikes this reader as overly simplistic to assume that all writers (with the exception of Sabbatians) who grasp Tzimtzum literally are necessarily writing from the human perspective, while writers who understand Tzimtzum non-literally are necessarily writing from the divine perspective. And if the distinction should not be overused, a fortiori it should not be misused. To ascribe the human perspective (as opposed to divine perspective) to Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi when he clearly writes the opposite, is to do violence to his words. A key passage in his Yosher Levav (quoted in fact by Fraenkel) reads:

Therefore relative to us (le-gabei didan), it is as if there was no Tzimtzum and we can say that the Tzimtzum is not literal. However, relative to the Ein Sof (le-gabei ha-Ein Sof) itself, it is literal.[16]

How it is then possible to flip around the author’s mindset and reverse his stated position, is beyond me.

At day’s end, the warring factions within Knesset Yisrael may have to make peace with their differences of opinion intact, even in the matter of Tzimtzum.

[1] Prof. Menachem Kallus confided to the writer that in his estimation the earliest discussion whether Tzimtzum was intended literally or not, is to be found in the notes to Vital’s ‘Ets Hayyim penned by Rabbi Meir Poppers (ca. 1624-1662). Poppers writes that it sounds to him as if Luria’s disciples Rabbi Hayyim Vital and Rabbi Yosef ibn Tabul understood from the Rav [Isaac Luria] that “the Tzimtzum is literal” (“ha-tzimtzum ke-mishma‘o”). See Rabbi Meir Poppers, ’Or Zaru‘a, ed. Safrin and Sofer (Jerusalem: Hevrat Ahavat Shalom, 1986), Sha‘ar ha-‘Iggulim ve-ha-Yosher, chap. 2 (p. 29).

[2] See “Derush ha-Tefillin” in Rabbi Shelomo Fisher, Beit Yishai—Derashot (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 355.

[3] Rabbi Eizik of Homel, “Igeret Kodesh” (Holy Epistle) printed at the conclusion of Hannah Ariel—Amarot Tehorot (Ma’amar ha-Shabbat, etc.) (Berdichev: Sheftel, 1912), 4b.

[4] Tanya II, 7 (83a).

[5] Published in M.M. Laufer, Ha-Melekh bi-Mesibo II (Kefar Habad: Kehot, 1993), p. 286.

[6] Rav Kook’s manuscript was published in Haskamot ha-Rayah (Jerusalem: Makhon RZYH Kook, 1988).

Ironically, Rav Kook’s maternal grandfather Raphael Felman was a Hasid of the Rebbe of Kopyst.

Fraenkel dismisses out of hand the notion that the Tanya pilloried Ricchi because of the fact that references to Ricchi’s Mishnat Hasidim figure prominently in the Tanya. See Nefesh HaTzimtzum, vol. 2, p. 79, n. 89. This argument is unconvincing. It is quite conceivable that the Ba‘al ha-Tanya was fond of Mishnat Hasidim, a popular digest of Lurianic Kabbalah, while viewing Ricchi’s other work Yosher Levav as being outside the pale. And for the very reason that such a venerable Kabbalist erred in his judgment concerning Tzimtzum, he was worthy of compassion. Cf. Rabbi Tzadok Hakohen Rabinowitz:

There were already found many great men, authors among the Mekubbalim, who stumbled in this, including the author of Yosher Levav, who explained the matter of Tzimtzum and similarly many matters of Kabbalah in [terms recognizable] to the understanding [as] total corporealization. I have spelled out his name, for some authors published after him already publicized him in order to clarify his errors in this respect. Behold he was a great and holy man, as is known, and erred only in his faith. Though this too is a great error and requires atonement (as explained above), nonetheless it is not such a grievous sin, as explained in the words of the Rabad…”

(Sefer ha-Zikhronot in Divrei Soferim [Lublin, 1913], 32d)

The reference is to Rabad’s animadversion to Maimonides’ statement in MT, Hil. Teshuvah 3:7 that one who professes belief in a corporeal deity has the halakhic status of a “min.”

[7] Fraenkel’s “Shabbetian Tzimtzum Kipshuto” (as opposed to the “Acceptable Tzimtzum Kipshuto”) strikes this writer as a “straw man” contrived for purposes of pilpul.

[8] Rabbi Aaron Halevi, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah (Shklov, 1820), Part 1, Gate 1, chap. 21, note (f.51).

[9] Rabbi Jacob Emden, Mitpahat Sefarim (Altona, 1768), 35b-36a (i.e. 45b-46a).

[10] Mitpahat Sefarim 35b (i.e. 45b).

To the question of whether Ricchi himself was a crypto-Sabbatian, I devoted an entire chapter of my book Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (1999): “Immanuel Hai Ricchi—Literalist among Kabbalists.”

[11] Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv, Helek ha-Bi’urim (Jerusalem, 1935), 3a-b. The letters of Rabbi Elyashiv to Rabbi N.H. Halevi Weidenbaum were published in Rabbi Moshe Schatz, Ma‘ayan Moshe (Jerusalem, 2011).

[12] Helek ha-Bi’urim, 5b.

[13] Mordechi Pachter, “The Gaon’s Kabbalah from the Perspective of Two Traditions” (Hebrew), in The Vilna Gaon and his Disciples (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2003), pp. 119-136.

[14] See Rabbi Menahem Azariah da Fano, Ma’amar ha-Nefesh, Part 2, chap. 4 in Ma’amrei ha-Rama mi-Fano (Jerusalem: Yismah Lev, 1997), p. 339; Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi, Yosher Levav (Amsterdam, 1737), chap. 15 (10a), Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, Kalah Pithei Hokhmah (Koretz, 1785), petah 27 (31b); idem, Peirush Arimat Yadai in Adir ba-Marom II, ed. Spinner (Jerusalem, 1988), p. 74; Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah (Shklov, 1820), Part 1, Gate 1, note to chap. 21 (43b-44a); Rabbi Isaac of Volozhin, “Ma’amar Be-Tzelem” (note to Nefesh ha-Hayyim, Gate 1, chap. 1) in Avinoam Fraenkel, Nefesh HaTzimtzum, vol. 2, p. 397; Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook, Shemonah Kevatzim (Jerusalem, 2004), 2:120 (vol. 1, p. 284).

[15] Nefesh ha-Hayyim III, 6.

[16] Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi, Yosher Levav (Amsterdam, 1737), chap. 15 (10a). Quoted in Nefesh ha-Tzimtzum, vol. 2, pp. 260-261. See also Fraenkel’s discussion of Ricchi’s position on pp. 63-71.

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Open Orthodoxy and Its Main Critic, part 1

February 8, 2016, 2:28 pm

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Open Orthodoxy and Its Main Critic, part 1

Marc B. Shapiro

Please note: The conversation in the comments, while of importance, does not fit the focus of the Seforim Blog. Anyone who wishes to continue can email Dr. Shapiro or the conversation can be continued on a different website.

1. Those who follow Jewish debates on the internet have probably heard of Rabbi Avrohom Gordimer, who has assumed the mantle of defender of the faith. He sees his goal as exposing the non-Orthodox nature of Open Orthodoxy, and has spent many hundreds of hours reading everything written by Open Orthodox figures (and their spouses), looking for a problematic sentence in order to pounce on them. He not only attacks the Open Orthodox rabbis but also shows his contempt for them by generally refusing to even mention their names. Instead, he refers to an unnamed Open Orthodox rosh yeshiva or rabbi and you don’t know who he is speaking about until you click on the link. I realize he doesn’t respect these figures, but to even deny them the simple courtesy of mentioning their names, as if to do so is muktzeh mehamat mius, is in my opinion simply disgraceful (albeit a common writing style in the haredi world).

This obsession with the Open Orthodox reminds me of how in earlier centuries Christian zealots “could declare themselves ‘crusaders’, join a company of St. Peter Martyr, and assume a special responsibility for denouncing suspicious behaviour to the Holy Office.”[1] It also reminds me of how in previous years the right wing would constantly attack YU and Modern Orthodoxy. Now that the Open Orthodox are under attack, YU and Modern Orthodoxy re getting a pass. But make no mistake about it, if there wasn’t an Open Orthodoxy to kick around, YU and Modern Orthodoxy would once again be the focus. It appears to me, and many others, that all of Rabbi Gordimer’s attacks are pretty meaningless by now, as we get it, he doesn’t like Open Orthodoxy and he thinks that they are not “Orthodox” (a Christian term which perhaps it is time to jettison). Simply drumming this point continuously is not going to make it any clearer.[2]

R. Kook famously said that the righteous do not complain about heresy but add faith.[3] In other words, they always focus on the positive. Now the truth is that this quote, taken by itself, is problematic, as we have examples where R. Kook himself complained about heresy. I think that the passage therefore must be speaking in generalities. In other words, he doesn’t mean that the righteous never complain, but that their essential nature does not focus on the negative and finding the flaws in others. Rather, they are focused on adding faith in order to show the truth of their own position.

Rabbi Gordimer gives us a continuing list of controversial statements from people identified with Open Orthodoxy. As mentioned, he will spend hours and hours reading their material until he finally hits pay dirt. We are never told about any of the good things he sees in the writers he so often attacks, and how 99% of what he reads in their writings is not objectionable. I also find it most curious (but not unexpected) that it is only the left who are subjected to this type of detailed examination, all in order to find material with which to attack them. What about people on the right who also say objectionable things? Why are they not subjected to the same criticisms? How come he criticizes Open Orthodox figures for their liberal Zionism, but never says a word of criticism about the anti-Zionism found in Satmar and other haredi groups? The question is rhetorical.

Another problem is that while Rabbi Gordimer himself tries to stick to the issues, the comments to his posts, which have to be approved before being posted, sometimes do contain derogatory and insulting remarks about individuals. How can anyone view this as appropriate?

I have no difficulty if someone wants to criticize, even sharply, Open Orthodox writers, as long as there are no personal attacks. In fact, if the criticisms of Rabbi Gordimer and others were offered on a basis of friendship and common purpose, I can tell you without hesitation that the Open Orthodox writers would be grateful for the criticism and dialogue, as they want nothing more than to engage with all segments of the Jewish world, including the more right wing elements.

As mentioned above, I find it most objectionable that all of Rabbi Gordimer’s (and others’) criticism is of the left, never the right. I have made this point in a number of lectures. Occasionally, individuals have replied to me that it is unfair to compare Open Orthodox ideas with actions of people identified with the haredi world, as these actions are simply the result of people making mistakes and say nothing about haredi Judaism itself. Thus, they claim, if a criminal is haredi, this has nothing to do with the ideals or teachings of haredi society.

While there is some truth to this argument, it is not entirely true. For example, the widespread cover-ups of sexual abuse in haredi society, and the reluctance to go to the authorities, are directly related to haredi ideology. Yet Rabbi Gordimer has never commented on this. I also have no doubt that some financial crimes in the haredi world, including by institutions such as yeshivot, are often related to both the structure of haredi society, which leads many into poverty, and also haredi teachings that may downplay or even deny the halakhic prohibition of certain white collar criminal activity. And you don’t need me to say this. Haredim say the same thing all the time. I mention this only to stress that just as I would be the first to say that there is plenty to criticize in Open Orthodox thought, there is also plenty to criticize in haredi thought (and also in Centrist thought). In fact, as we shall soon see, one can find things written by those on the right that I think many readers, including haredim, would find even more objectionable than what Rabbi Gordimer has written about.

Before going further, let me note that there is much that Rabbi Gordimer criticizes that I don’t find at all objectionable, and I will give an example of this below. By the same token, there are aspects of the Open Orthodox critique of haredism and Centrism that I do not share, and I don’t expect either the haredim or the Open Orthodox to agree with everything I write either. But that is OK, as no one can expect everyone to agree on everything. Well-founded criticism is a vital part of any society and must be appreciated. Just as there is what to criticize in all camps, there is also a great deal to praise in all camps (and in some areas, in particular Torah study and respect for Torah scholarship, the haredi world is far superior to what is found among non-haredim in the United States).

As noted already, Rabbi Gordimer is an avid reader of Open Orthodox writings. In fact, I think he has read more such writings than anyone else (even more than the Open Orthodox!), and yet he is not able to come up with anything positive that they say or do. This shows me that he is not being fair, as I can give a long list of great things that Open Orthodox rabbis have done across the country, things that even the most right wing would applaud. I can do the same with haredi rabbis and I guarantee you that Open Orthodox rabbis would applaud. Contrary to the mean caricatures one finds online, the Open Orthodox are some of the most genuine and giving people I have ever met, and I say this as one who has never been an adherent of Open Orthodoxy. The Open Orthodox leadership and its rabbis show respect not only for those on their left (which leads Rabbi Gordimer and others to criticize them) but also for those on their right, as I can attest from many years of personal interaction. (When I speak of respect for those on their right, I am not referring to people like myself, but of Torah scholars firmly ensconced in the haredi world who do not reciprocate this respect.) In short, we must recognize there is a lot of good in all camps and we should support positive developments no matter where they originate.

Furthermore, it is important for the halakhic community to understand that there needs to be different paths for different people as not everyone has the same spiritual make-up. It is therefore important to have responsible halakhic authorities who can speak to the different communities. Rather than engaging in constant criticism, Rabbi Gordimer should be happy that the communities on the left are able to turn to an outstanding talmid chacham such as R. Dov Linzer, as he understands their situation and can provide proper guidance. I encourage people to examine some of R. Linzer's recent halakhic writings here.

Returning to an earlier comment I made, if the point of all the criticism of Open Orthodoxy is the protection of authentic Judaism by countering the distortions on the left, then shouldn’t the distortions on the right also be countered? Aren’t these also dangerous, even more dangerous as they reach a wider range of people and are regarded as authentic Torah teachings by many? Since Rabbi Gordimer and others only look to criticize those to their left, never those to their right, they must ask themselves if the protection of Judaism is really their only goal, or if, unconsciously perhaps, their crusade against Open Orthodoxy also has other motivations.

When I have mentioned these points to various people, they always ask me to provide examples of what I am talking about, i.e., of writings from the haredi world that should be criticized by Rabbi Gordimer in the same way he criticizes what Open Orthodox writers are saying. There are lots of examples I could give (and readers can find some of them in previous posts), but let me choose a book that was actually removed from a synagogue library because of the views expressed in it.[4]

In 2007 Rabbi Dovid Kaplan published Major Impact.[5]

It has a chapter entitled “Jews and Goyim”. The chapter begins as follows:

Every Shabbos in Kiddush we declare that HaKadosh Baruch Hu chose us from all the nations. At every Havdalah we declare that we’re as different from them as day is from night. It’s always interesting to see examples of just how different we are. So read this chapter and then enjoy your next Kiddush and Havdalah.

Here are some examples from the chapter:

We once took our kids on a trip to the United States. A goy on the plane asked me how many children we have. I told him five. “How old are they,” he asked. “The oldest is eight, and the youngest is three months.” “Wow,” he said with a look of disbelief, “you have twins?”

COMMENT: The idea of bringing children into the world on a regular basis was utterly foreign to his way of thinking.

The Polish maid brought her fiancé to meet her employer, Rebbetzin Ruchama Shain. “You have to treat your wife with respect,” she said. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll only beat her if she disobeys me,” responded the big shaigetz.

COMMENT: And he’ll only steal if he doesn’t have enough money. And he’ll only kill if he’s upset. And he’ll only . . .

Shechitah houses often employ goyim, big strong ones, to help with the animals. A friend related the following incident to me. A cow had just been shechted. One of the goyim walked over with an empty cup, filled it with blood that was oozing from the neck, and then drank it down.

COMMENT: For him there’s no issue. For us it’s unimaginable.

I once saw a young boy sitting on a fence at the zoo. A little old goyish lady wearing a zoo maintenance outfit approached him. “Come on down off that fence honey,” she said, “cuz I don’t want you to fall.” Wow, I thought to myself. It’s nice of her to be so concerned. I was really impressed, but only briefly. “cuz if you fall there’ll be brains all over the place, and I don’t wanna hafta clean up no brains.”

COMMENT: Can you imagine a Jewish bubby ever talking like that?

Dr. Jacobs was making his rounds through the ward accompanied by Dr. Obama [!], an African-American. “What’s happening with Mr. O’Neill?” he asked Dr. Obama.

“Her blood pressure is up and she has a little edema. Other than that she’s fairly stable.”

“I asked about Mr. O’Neill.”

“And I answered. ”

“But why did you refer to him as ‘she’?”

“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know. Mr. O’Neill is eighty-eight years old. Back in Africa our native tribe has a custom. Once a man passes eighty-five and can’t do much, he’s referred to as ‘she.’”

COMMENT: We place older people on a pedestal and make every effort to make them feel important. Anything that may even remotely reduce their dignity is by definition pasul. And them? Yuch![6]

I realize that most of these stories are made up in order to make non-Jews look bad, but this last one is really stupid, even as a racist story, since when was the last time you heard an African-American referring to the customs of his native tribe? Also, in case anyone missed it, the name “Obama” is probably not an accident.

I don’t think there is any need for me to elaborate on how offensive this material is. Everyone understands how we would react if the focus was Jews and if one were to extrapolate from a (phony) story with one Jew to the entire Jewish people. The ideology expressed in this book (and others like it) is in direct opposition to everything I was taught about how Torah is supposed to make one a more refined individual. I also wonder, how many potential baalei teshuvah who picked up this book were turned off to Judaism after reading what I have quoted?[7]

I have no doubt that Rabbi Gordimer agrees with me that the views expressed in this book are not in line with what we should stand for as a people. So will we see a condemnation of this book and of ones that express similar views, or do they get a pass because they emanate from the haredi world?

Despite my great opposition to this book, I am willing to acknowledge that other things the author has written can be valuable. Why can't Rabbi Gordimer, despite his criticism of Open Orthodox writers, admit that even if he disagrees with them about certain things, they can still make valuable contributions in areas where he would agree with them? In sum, when Rabbi Gordimer begins criticizing the problems in the haredi and centrist worlds with the same enthusiasm (or even half the enthusiasm) as he takes on writers in the Open Orthodox world, then I and many others might begin to take him seriously as someone who can offer a valuable perspective.

I should note that R. Yitzchok Adlerstein has made some comments relevant to the matter I have just discussed:

Mean-spirited and racist remarks made on comboxes on websites catering to the Chassidic community turn up quoted on anti-Semitic and anti-Israel websites. . . . Enough material exists to make it easy for intelligent outsiders to get beyond the posturing of spokespeople and learn about attitudes often expressed by the masses. For decades, observant Jews of all persuasions could go about their business flying under the radar of their neighbors. If they stayed out of trouble with the law (or did a good enough job at keeping malefactors out of the headlines), they were more than tolerated by other Americans. There are no longer any secrets. Every small group is the subject of inquiry, and the free sharing of information means that outside investigators quickly learn what people speak about behind closed doors.

Agudath Israel undertook an impressive program of community education to parts of its membership regarding dina demalchuta[8] and chillul Hashem[9] in the aftermath of too many high-profile scandals. It will not be enough. The next exposés (they have already begun) will not deal so much with criminal behavior as with rejection and contempt. Many Americans who are not anti-Semitic will still not take kindly to the thought that large numbers of people, albeit minorities even within their own communities, have little or no regard for them as human beings, and no concern for their welfare. Those who take the policy of hen am levadad yishkon to the limit will soon learn that there are minimum expectations placed upon citizens not by law but by popular sentiment. If they wish to live as equals in the United States, they will have to come to some sort of modus vivendi with other Jewish values like darkhei shalom and genuine regard for the tzelem Elokim in all people.[10]

Let me now turn to the reason I have been discussing Rabbi Gordimer in the first place, and that is his attack on R. Ysoscher Katz found here. Rabbi Gordimer claims that there is no such thing as Modern Orthodox pesak, and that decisions by Modern Orthodox poskim “should look no different than if [they] were adjudicated by a chareidi posek; process (research) and product (conclusion) should be indistinguishable.” This is simply false, as anyone who knows the writings of Modern Orthodox poskim can attest. A posek is not a computer. All sorts of meta-halakhic considerations go into his rulings and this explains why a Modern Orthodox posek will come to different conclusions than haredi poskim on many issues. I am not referring to whether a tea bag can be used on Shabbat, as in this sort of case there shouldn’t be any differences between haredi and Modern Orthodox poskim, but in matters concerning which the two camps differ (e.g., the role of women) there will obviously be differences among the poskim.

For Rabbi Gordimer, all poskim share the same “process”. Not only is this historically incorrect, it isn’t even “doctrine”. Does he really think that there are any haredim who believe that Modern Orthodox poskim operate the same way as haredi poskim? Of course they don’t, which is precisely the reason why they reject Modern Orthodox halakhists, because they know that their meta-halakhic values influence their halakhic decisions. The haredim don’t oppose meta-halakhic values per se. Meta-halakhah has a very prominent place in haredi halakhah. It is the particular Modern Orthodox meta-halakhic values that they see as problematic.

I realize that for people reading this post what I have just said is neither new or even controversial. Many of you are probably wondering why I am even wasting my time in making an obvious point. So let me mention some important sources that you might have been unaware of that illustrate what I have been saying.

In 1951 R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik was asked if it was permitted to volunteer to serve as a chaplain in the U.S. armed forces, as this might lead to various halakhic problems, in particular with regard to Shabbat. Before analyzing the halakhic sources, R. Soloveitchik gives us an insight into the meta-halakhic factors that are operating within him. He confesses his lack of objectivity in a way that directly contradicts his portrayal of how Halakhic Man operates. A haredi posek who did not see any value in participating in larger American society could never have penned the following words, which stand as a complete rejection of Rabbi Gordimer’s point:

I have undertaken the research into the halakhic phase of this problem, which is fraught with grave political and social implications on the highest level of public relations, with utmost care and seriousness. Yet, I cannot lay claim to objectivity if the latter should signify the absence of axiological premises and a completely emotionally detached attitude. The halakhic inquiry, like any other cognitive theoretical performance, does not start out from the point of absolute zero as to sentimental attitudes and value judgments. There always exists in the mind of the researcher an ethico-axiological background against which the contours of the subject matter in question stand out more clearly. In all fields of human intellectual endeavor there is always an intuitive approach which determines the course and method of the analysis. Not even in exact sciences (particularly in their interpretive phase) is it possible to divorce the human element from the formal aspect. Hence this investigation was also undertaken in a similar subjective mood. From the very outset I was prejudiced in favor of the project of the Rabbinical Council of America and I could not imagine any halakhic authority rendering a decision against it. My inquiry consisted only in translating a vague intuitive feeling into fixed terms of halakhic discursive thinking.[11]

R. Soloveitchik’s description does not only apply to himself, but is how all poskim operate, although, with the possible exception of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, none of them have been as self-reflective as R. Soloveitchik. It would actually be a good project to interview different poskim and see how each of them formulate the role of intuition and their own “ethico-axiological background” in the formation of halakhic decisions. In R. Nachum Rabinovitch’s recently published Mesilot bi-Levavam,[12] he states that a posek who is not guided by broad ethical considerations, a pesak of his “is not worth the paper it is written on.” These ethical considerations will of course vary, depending on whether the posek is haredi or Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist.

Here are two examples of what I am talking about from R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, and which shows how wrong Rabbi Gordimer is in his assumption that one’s ideology doesn’t affect one’s halakhic decisions. R. Weinberg was asked about the halakhic permissibility of autopsies in the State of Israel. He wrote as follows (Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 42):

והנה זה דבר ברור, שלעולם לא יגיעו בארץ ישראל לדעה אחת . . . ופתרון השאלה תלוי הרבה בהערכת המצב בעולם הרפואה, וביחס אל המדינה ומוסדותיה; וגם בהבנת המצב במחקר מדע הרפואי, וביחס אל החכמים העוסקים במדע זה, הן במחקר והן בשמוש למעשה.

R. Weinberg explicitly tells us that how one decides the halakhah depends on how one evaluates a series of non-halakhic matters. One of these is how one relates to the State of Israel. Obviously, a haredi posek who sees no real significance to the State of Israel will be inclined to rule one way, while a posek who regards Jewish self-rule as being of momentous significance will be inclined to rule differently. None of what I am saying is at all radical or controversial. It is simply obvious to anyone who studies halakhic literature.

Elsewhere, as we have seen in previous posts, R. Weinberg states that if there is a dispute among halakhic authorities we must reject the view that will bring the Torah into disrepute in people's eyes (Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 60):

Obviously, a posek from a closed haredi society is going to have a different view regarding whether a halakhic decision will bring the Torah into disrepute in people’s eyes. In fact, I would assume that such a posek would reject R. Weinberg’s statement completely, seeing it as giving in to modern values even when in opposition to Torah sources.

Although I can cite numerous other texts to support what I am saying, let me just add one more. The late R. Aharon Felder, She’elat Aharon, vol. 1, no. 12, responded to someone who claimed that R. Moshe Feinstein’s halakhic decisions were not at all influenced by his nature or surroundings. R. Felder completely rejects this claim and adds[13]:

לא נתנה תורה למלאכי השרת וזהו כלל גדול אף בקשר למנהיגי ופוסקי הדור.

I mention R. Felder since I have very fond memories of a Shabbat I spent as scholar-in-residence in his shul not long before his untimely passing. I was fortunate to be able to spend hours talking with him over that Shabbat, and by telephone afterwards. While people generally knew him as a posek, he was also full of information about great rabbis, many of whom he knew personally, and he was happy to share this information. Here is a picture of us together.

One of the interesting things I learnt from speaking to him was that he had semichah from R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin. I think this is very unusual as I have never met anyone else who received semichah from R. Zevin. This connection to R. Zevin probably explained something else that happened over the Shabbat which was also very unusual. On Shabbat morning R. Felder spoke. Usually, when there is a scholar-in-residence the rabbi does not speak, but R. Felder had something he wanted to say. He devoted most of the derashah, which dealt with the importance of truth, to my post here on ArtScroll’s censorship of R. Zevin’s Ha-Moadim ba-Halakhah. Having a derashah focus on a Seforim Blog post was certainly a new one for me. In the derashah, R. Felder mentioned that when he first learnt of the censorship years ago, he told Rabbi Meir Zlotowitz that what ArtScroll did was completely wrong, and that while they are entitled to disagree with what R. Zevin wrote, they had no right alter his words.

To Be Continued

2. This past year we were told that it was Agudath Israel of America's 93rd convention. This convention was significant as the Agudah finally threw in the towel and accepted the internet, setting up a website for the convention and broadcasting live. See here. The Agudah now has its own website here.

This new policy came in through the back door, with no explanation as to why something that until now has been forbidden is now permitted. This was typical for the Agudah, and years from now we will probably be able to read in the official history of Agudath Israel of America how the Agudah was among the first to recognize the great value of the internet for spreading Torah, and how the Agudah immediately seized this opportunity. Also of interest is that although the website just mentioned is the official Agudah website, and reports on all that is going on with Agudath Israel of America, it is called the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative. Yet as anyone who examines the website can see, the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative is only a small part of the website. Apparently, there is still a problem with calling the Agudah website by its proper name so they had to use a bit of false advertising by referring to it as the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative.

What about the “93rd convention”? This would mean that the first Agudath Israel of America convention was in 1923 (as we are speaking about annual conventions). How is this possible if Agudath Israel in America was not formed until 1939 and its first convention was held on July 9-11, 1939?[14] See here for a 1950 news report which speaks of the 28th annual convention. This would mean that the first convention was indeed in 1923. Yet see here for a 1947 news report that speaks of Agudah’s 9th annual convention. This would mean that the first convention was in 1939, which is indeed correct. In years prior to 1947 the reports of the Agudah conventions also give 1939 as the year of the first convention.

So what happened between 1947 and 1950 and how did the Agudah start portraying itself as having conventions before Agudath Israel of America even existed? Rabbi Moshe Kolodny, the Agudah archivist, informed me that the 93rd year is a commemoration of the founding of the American branch of the World Agudat Israel on July 20, 1921. (As already mentioned, Agudah Israel of America was itself not founded until 1939). The problem with this explanation is that the 2015 convention should then be the 95th convention, not the 93rd. This is quite apart from the fact that I don’t understand how the Agudah can speak of 93 conventions when until 1939 there weren’t any annual conventions for Agudath Israel of America.

1923 as a year is significant in Agudah history, as it is the year when the first World Agudath Israel convention took place in Vienna. This is the convention from which we have the recently discovered video of the Chafetz Chaim. What I think happened is that between 1947 and 1950 some Agudah functionary decided that the annual Agudath Israel of America convention should be tied to 1923, and that is why this year’s convention was called the 93rd convention. The problem with this is, as mentioned, not only that Agudah Israel of America has not had 93 conventions, but that even if you date the conventions to 1923, you still don’t get 93 conventions. I say this because while the first world Agudah convention was held in 1923, this was not a yearly event. The next world convention was not held until 1929.

I have told this to a number of people and they are all surprised. Yet I find it hard to believe that I am the first person to point out that there have not been 93 annual conventions. Maybe some of the readers who attended the convention can weigh in. Can it really be that no one in attendance realized the problem involved in advertising it as the 93rd convention?

I realize that next year when the Agudah announces its 94th convention, opponents of the Agudah will, based on this post, write about how 94 is an incorrect number. But the more important point is that the Agudah actually has an annual convention. Mizrachi used to have an annual convention, but it is no more. Isn't it significant that the Modern Orthodox have nothing to equal the annual Agudah convention?

3. A couple of months ago I was speaking to two people and one of them asked me why, if the right wing is so opposed to Open Orthodoxy, that they don’t just put its leaders in herem. I replied that in today’s day and age we don’t find anyone being put in herem. They will put books in herem but not individuals, as we saw with R. Nathan Kamenetsky and R. Natan Slifkin. Why don’t they put people in herem anymore? The answer usually given is that no one will pay attention to the herem.[15] Yet people don’t pay attention to the herems on books either, and that hasn’t stopped them from banning books.

In the discussion one of the people said that if they would put a herem on the leaders of Open Orthodoxy, they would have to also to put a herem on some women, and this would never work. As he put it, the negative publicity would be too much, as the rabbis would be portrayed as big bullies coming after defenseless women. I have no idea if this is the reason why they haven't put a herem on the Open Orthodox leadership, but I have to confess that I had never thought of the female angle. It probably is the case that putting women in herem would create a public relations nightmare that would equal what we have seen with the sexual abuse cover-ups and the declarations that basic historical and scientific knowledge is to be regarded as heresy. (In fact, I think that even putting men in herem in this day and age would lead to a big backlash.) That then got me thinking, how often in Jewish history have women been put in herem? I am only aware of the following cases: one in the Talmud,[16] two others discussed by R. David Ibn Zimra[17] and R. Meir Katzenellenbogen[18] respectively, and another two separate cases that involved many Italian rabbis.[19] Yet there must be others.

4. As I write this post, Yosef Mizrachi is in the news. It began with his unbelievably ignorant comments about the Holocaust and soon moved into other outrageous things he said, both about the Holocaust and in general.[20] Years ago I found another really offensive comment about the Holocaust, yet in this case the author was actually a well-known posek. In seeking to explain why the Holocaust occurred, R. Ovadiah Hadaya writes as follows, in words that sound like they could have been said by Mizrachi:[21]

לפעמים יש הרבה ממזרים בישראל שלא ידועים ואז הקב"ה מוכרח למחותם וכדי שלא יתביישו משפחתם אז הקב"ה נותן רשות למשחית להרוג גם טובים עמהם בכדי שלא יורגשו מי הם הממזרים.

Just think about the implications of this statement. 6 million pure Jewish souls, including 1 million children, are destroyed, and R. Hadaya suggests this was done to get rid of the mamzerim. Furthermore, in order not to embarrass the families of the mamzerim all the rest had to be killed as well, as if the omnipotent God couldn’t come up with some other way to take care of this. I don’t think that this passage can even be called “theodicy”, as theodicy is the defense of God’s goodness and omnipotence in the face of evil. The theology of this passage, if accepted as true, would actually lead people to doubt God’s goodness and omnipotence.

One day, not long after I found this passage, I was in the National Library of Israel reading room, and there, as usual, was Prof. David Weiss Halivni. I was very comfortable talking with him, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about what R. Hadaya said. I thought it might really unsettle him, seeing how a rabbi could give this explanation as to why all his loved ones were slaughtered in the most cruel way. In the end, I decided to share it with him. All Prof. Halivni said, and this is applicable to Mizrachi as well, is that when it comes to the Holocaust Sephardim simply don’t get it. What he meant was that not having the personal connection to the Holocaust, their discussions of it are without the emotional intensity one finds in the Ashkenazic world. In the Ashkenazic world, detached explanations of the sort offered by R. Hadaya and Mizrachi would be too offensive to even consider.

[1] Brian Pullan, The Jews of Europe and the Inquisition of Venice, 1550-1670 (London, 1997), p. 100.

[2] If one looks at the attacks that have been made on Open Orthodoxy by Rabbi Gordimer and others, you will find the Open Orthodox placed together with Early Christians, Sadducees, Reform, and Conservative Jews. A friend commented that it is a wonder that they aren’t also compared to Sabbateans. I replied that this is probably only because the attackers are unaware of the fact that Shabbetai Zvi gave women aliyot, a step that Gershom Scholem describes as the “substitution of a messianic Judaism for the traditional and imperfect one.” See Sabbatai Zvi, p. 403.
[3] Shemonah Kevatzim 2:99.

[4] It would be interesting to create a list of books removed from synagogue libraries for heresy or other reasons. When I was in yeshiva in Israel (and some of my classmates will probably remember this episode), Rabbi Alfred Kolatch’s Second Jewish Book of Why popped up in the beit midrash. This volume, and the others in Kolatch’s series, were extremely popular and sold more than 1.5 million copies. See here. Kolatch was a Yeshiva College graduate but he was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary. One of the teachers at the yeshiva insisted on having the book removed because the author was a Conservative rabbi. This teacher also wanted to show that Kolatch was an ignoramus. He pointed to a passage, p. 294, where Kolatch discusses why women are not obligated in tzitzit. Kolatch mentions that most assume that it is a mitzvat aseh she-ha-zeman gerama. He also offers another option, that in ancient times the four-cornered type of garment to which tzitzit were attached was a male garment, so women never adopted the practice of tzitzit. The teacher mocked the notion that tzitzit had anything to do with a male garment, and was adamant that the only reason women do not wear tzitzit is because it is a time-bound positive commandment. Unbeknownst to the teacher, and I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning it to him at the time as I thought he might not take it well after making such a public case against Kolatch, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan includes tzitzit (and tefillin) as male garments which women are forbidden to wear. See Targum Ps. Jonathan, Deut. 22:5.

[5] This book was called to my attention by Michael Steel.

[6] It is true that observant Jews place older people on a pedestal. Sometimes they may even go too far. R. Solomon Kluger, one of the most outstanding nineteenth-century poskim, has a passage that is very difficult to understand. It appears in his commentary on the Shulhan Arukh, Hokhmat Shlomo, Hoshen Mishpat 426.

According to R. Kluger, if one has to put oneself in a degrading situation or if it requires too much effort to save the life of another, then one doesn’t have to do it. In giving an example of טרחה יתרה he mentions an old person, who according to R. Kluger would not be obligated to trouble himself excessively to save the life of another. Many have discussed this strange passage (and surprisingly, a number of the discussions do not note that at the end R. Kluger appears to backtrack from his hiddush). R. Moshe Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah 2, p. 290, uses the following very strong language regarding R. Kluger’s suggestion:

הוא טעות גמור ושרי להו מרייהו, דדברי חכמת שלמה הא ודאי ח"ו לאומרם.

As we have come to expect, at least one scholar questioned the authenticity of R. Kluger’s words, a phenomenon we find whenever a radical position is expressed. But in this case the scholar I am referring to is the great R. Reuven Margaliyot who should have known better. He writes (Nefesh Hayah, 13:3):

והנה על כגון דא בוודאי אמרו דחדש אסור מן התורה ותמה אני אם יצאו דברים הללו מפיו הקדוש.

When I first saw R. Kluger’s words, I thought of R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 251:9:

ואפילו חכם לכסות ועם הארץ להחיות [החכם קודם] ואשת חבירו כחבר.

Many understand להחיות to mean literally to save from death. I think most will offer a sigh of relief that the Shakh writes:

בזמן הזה שאין תלמיד חכם . . . כל שכן דאין לדחות פקוח נפש מפניו.

[7] Contrast what appears in Kaplan's book with what R. Ahron Soloveichik wrote:

Every human being, regardless of religion, race, origin, or creed, is endowed with divine dignity. Consequently all people are to be treated with equal respect and dignity.

Anyone who fails to apply a uniform standard of mishpat, justice, tzedek, righteousness, to all human beings regardless of origin, color or creed is deemed barbaric.

People who refuse to grant any human being the same respect that they offer to their own race or nationality are adopting a barbaric attitude.

The quotations all come from R. Soloveichik's Logic of the Heart, Logic of the Mind (Jerusalem, 1991), and are discussed in Meir Soloveichik's recent essay, "Founding Brothers": The Rav, Rav Ahron, and the American Idea," in Soloveichik, et al., eds., Torah and Western Thought: Intellectual Portraits of Orthodoxy and Modernity (New Milford, CT, 2015), pp. 96ff.

Torah and Western Thought is quite an interesting book and I highly recommend it. It also contains essays on R. Kook, R. Isaac Herzog, Nehama Leibowitz, R. Immanuel Jakobovits, R. Yehuda Amital, R. Aharon Lichtenstein, R. Norman Lamm, and Prof. Isadore Twersky. For obvious reasons the essay on Twersky, written by Carmi Horowitz, was of particular interest to me, and I was very happy to read, p. 258 n. 26, that Rabbi David Shapiro "is now editing and preparing for publication more than twenty years of Rabbi Twersky's divrei Torah delivered at the Talner Beit Midrash."
[8] As long ago as 1819, Leopold Zunz wrote about “the persistent delusion, contrary to law, that it is permissible to cheat non-Jews.” See Amos Elon, The Pity of It All: A Portrait of the Germany-Jewish Epoch, 1743-1933 (New York, 2002), p. 113. In an earlier post here I wrote:

Isn’t all the stress on following dina de-malchuta revealing? Why can’t people simply be told to do the right thing because it is the right thing? Why does it have to be anchored in halakhah, and especially in dina de-malchuta? Once this sort of thing becomes a requirement because of halakhah, instead of arising from basic ethics, then there are 101 loopholes that people can find, and all sorts of heterim.

After writing this I heard R. Jeremy Wieder’s shiur on the topic of dina de-malchuta dina (available here) and he makes some very similar points.

[9] This is a mistake. It is not Hashem (with a capital “H”, implying “God”) but hashem (or ha-shem). I.e., it is not a desecration of God but of His name. Thus, one should writeחילול השם not חילול ה'. See Lev. 22:32: ולא תחללו את שם קדשי. Nissim Dana titled his 1989 translation of one of R. Abraham Maimonides' works ספר המספיק לעובדי השם. Yet the last two words should be 'לעובדי ה.

Regarding the use the “Hashem”, I found something very confusing in the ArtScroll Stone Chumash. In place of the Tetragrammaton, ArtScroll does not use the word “Lord” but “HASHEM”, as this is how people pronounce the Tetragrammaton. While ArtScroll is the first translation to adopt this approach, it does have a certain logic. However, this logic breaks down a few times on p. 319 when the ArtScroll commentary attempts to explain what occurs at the beginning of parashat Va-Era. For example, “Or HaChaim comments that God’s essence is represented by the name HASHEM.” This makes no sense, as there is no name HASHEM. The commentary should have written that “God’s essence is represented by the four letter name of God.”
[10] “Digital Orthodoxy: The Making and Unmaking of a Lifestyle,” in Yehuda Sarna, ed., Developing a Jewish Perspective on Culture (New York, 2014), pp. 280-281.
[11] Community, Covenant and Commitment, ed. N. Helfgot (Jersey City, 2005), pp. 24-25. See also The Rav Speaks (Brooklyn, 2002), pp. 49-50: “I once said that there exists problems for which one cannot find a clear-cut decision in the Shulchan Aruch (code of Jewish law); one has to decide intuitively." For another example where we see that R. Soloveitchik did not operate as Halakhic Man, see R. Menachem Genack, “My First Year in the Rav’s Shiur,” in Zev Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations (Jersey City, 2008), p. 171:

I went to be menachem avel [console the mourner] at his home on Hancock Road in Brookline on Shushan Purim. His aveilus on Shushan Purim itself was something of a chiddush: although the Mechaber writes that one should sit shivah on Shushan Purim, the Remah rules that one should not. And Rav Soloveitchik said that, should he be asked to pasken the question, he would follow the opinion of the Remah. But he himself could not do otherwise than sit shivah on that day. Sitting shivah was the only way he could express himself that day – psychologically he could not do otherwise.

It is impossible to imagine that the Rav’s uncle, R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik, would have ever consciously allowed his emotions to influence how he decided halakhah. See e.g., here where I write: “Another such example of this is the report that when one of R. Velvel’s sons died shortly after birth, and the family was crying, he was insistent that they stop their tears, since there is no avelut before thirty days.”

[12] (Ma’aleh Adumim, 2015), p. 512.

[13] R. Menahem Azariah of Fano even states that one can ignore a conclusion of R. Samuel Di Medina as he was angry when he wrote a particular responsum. See She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rama mi-Fano, no. 109.

ואין לחוש לדברי הר"ש די מדינה שכתב ההפך מזה, כי נראין הדברים מתוך התשובה שבא לכלל כעס עם אחד העם שהיה מנהיג כך והוא מוחזק בעיניו שהיה עושה כן להתיהר ושלא לש"ש.

On the other hand, see here for the following story told by R. Eliezer Melamed in which R. Zvi Yehudah Kook turns his father into a religious robot, completely lacking any natural emotion.

פעם ליווה אבי מורי את הרצי"ה בלכתו מהישיבה לביתו, ואז סיפר לו הרצי"ה שלאחר פטירת הרב חיים עוזר גרודז'ינסקי מוילנא, קיימו לזכרו אזכרה בירושלים. אחד הספדנים אמר בתוך דבריו, שאצל רבי חיים עוזר האהבה לישראל לא קלקלה את השורה, והוא אהב את מי שצריך לאהוב. ומתוך דבריו נרמזה ביקורת על מרן הרב קוק, שנפטר שנים ספורות לפני כן, שכביכול אצלו האהבה קלקלה את השורה. דברים אלו ציערו וקוממו את הרצי"ה. זמן לא רב אח"כ התקיימה האזכרה השנתית של מרן הרב קוק, ואז הזכיר הרצי"ה את המשנה בברכות (לג, ב): "האומר על קן ציפור יגיעו רחמיך . . . משתקין אותו". וזאת משום שהוא תופס את מידותיו של הקב"ה כאילו יש בהן חולשה אנושית של רחמנות שחורגת ממידת הדין והצדק, ואילו האמת היא שגם רחמיו של הקב"ה הם גזרות מדויקות. וכך הוסיף הרצי"ה: הצדיקים הגדולים ההולכים בדרכי ה', הרחמים שלהם ואהבת ישראל שלהם אינם רגש אנושי שסובל מחולשה וטעות, אלא הם גזרות הנובעות מעומקה של תורה. וכל מי שאומר על הצדיקים שמידותיהם רחמים – "משתקין אותו"! וכך חזר כמה פעמים ואמר כלפי אותו ספדן "משתקין אותו"!

[14] For the founding of Agudath Israel of America and its first convention, see Aharon Rakeffet-Rothkoff, The Silver Era in American Jewish Orthodoxy (Jerusalem/New York, 2000), pp. 162-163.

[15] If they started putting individuals in herem, one of the questions that would be raised is does the banned person’s spouse and children also have to abide by the herem. It is hard to see how a couple could remain married if that was the case. This matter is actually discussed by R. Solomon ben Adret, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rashba ha-Meyuhasot le-Ramban, no. 266. He informs us that R. Abraham ben David (Rabad) did not think that a wife has to observe the herem (we don’t know what he thought about the children). However, the Rashba disagrees and states the wife is indeed obligated to observe the herem.
[16] Nedarim 50b.
[17] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Radbaz, vol. 7, no. 50.
[18] See She’elot u-Teshuvot Maharam mi-Padua, no. 73.

[19] See Yakob Boksenboim, ed., Parashiyot me-Havai Yehudei Italyah ba-Meah ha-16 (Tel Aviv, 1986), pp. 29ff.; Nahum Rakover, “Shikulim be-Anishah: Hatalat Ones ke-she-ha-Avaryan Alul la-Tzet le-Tarbut Ra’ah o le-Hishtamed,” in Yitzhak Alfasi, ed., Ha-Ma’a lot li-Shelomo (n.p., 1995), pp. 367ff.

[20] R. Amnon Yitzhak actually spoke about Mizrachi’s statement before anyone else (someone obviously fed it to him). This youtube video was put up on October 25, 2015, two months before Mizrachi’s statement became an international scandal.

After the controversy broke, I looked around a bit and found that from a religious standpoint, Mizrachi has said something regarding the Holocaust that is much worse than what he was called to task over, as his comment defames many great rabbis. In the video below he has the chutzpah to think that he knows why so many tzadikim were killed in the Holocaust. He explains – I hope you are sitting down – that they were not really complete tzadikim, and he identifies their supposed flaw. On the other hand, he states that the complete tzadikim were saved (and he makes the ridiculous statement that R. Aaron Kotler was a kiruv activist in Europe). Has anyone before Mizrachi ever made the appalling statement that survival of the Holocaust is proof that Rabbi X was more righteous than Rabbi Y who was murdered?

Contrast what Mizrachi said with what R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, a survivor of the Holocaust, said (Seridei Esh, vol. 1, p. 1):

רעדה תאחזני ובושה תכסה את פני לבוא ולספר על הנסים והנפלאות שנעשו עם אזוב קטן כמוני, אשר לא אדע במה לתלות נס-הצלתי, בוודאי לא מזכות יתירה, אלא ממיעוט זכות להמנות בין מקדשי השם הגדול והנורא

The only explanation R. Weinberg could give as to why he was miraculously saved was that he was not worthy enough to die al kiddush ha-shem.

In my Torah in Motion classes on R. Elchanan Wasserman I discuss the false claim that R. Elchanan returned to Europe “to die with his students." I don't know how this yeshiva myth arose. R. Elchanan left the United States in March 1939, more than five months before the German invasion of Poland. He didn't know what was coming and would never have returned to Poland if he did. (R. Elchanan's son, R. Simcha Wasserman, is reported to have made this exact point. See R. Ari Kahn's post here.)

[21] Yaskil Avdi, vol. 8, p. 200. R. Hadaya was also a kabbalist but surprisingly he makes an obvious mistake, ibid., p. 97, as pointed out by R. Meir Mazuz in his just published Darkhei ha-Limud, p. 7. R. Chaim Vital, Sha'ar ha-Gilgulim, hakdamah 34, states:

והנה משה תחילה היה הבל בן אדם הראשון ואח"כ נתגלגל בשת ואח"כ בנח ואח"כ בשם בן נח

R. Hadaya writes:

הרי לך דעם שמשה היה אחרי כמה מאות שנים, מזמן הבל ושת ונח ובנו שם, עכ"ז נתגלגל בהם

According to R. Hadaya, what R. Vital is saying is that Moses was reincarnated into Abel, and then into Seth, Noah, and Shem, even though Moses lived many years after them. This would be a great mystery if R. Vital had said it, since how could a person be reincarnated into someone who lived before him? Yet this is not what R. Vital said. If you look at the quotation from Sha'ar ha-Gilgulim you can see that its point is that Abel was reincarnated as Seth, and then Noah, and then Shem, and in the end came Moses.

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