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Marc B. Shapiro: A Tale of Two Lost Archives

A Tale of Two Lost Archives
by
Marc B. Shapiro
I have spent much of my professional life rummaging through collections of documents, mostly in well-kept archives, but sometimes also in hard-to-reach places in basements and attics. Fortunately, I have made some great discoveries in these places, but I will now tell you a story that doesn’t have a happy ending.
It begins around fifteen years ago, when I was researching the life of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. With the strength that only someone in his twenties has, I traveled around the world, knocking on doors, and tracking down every letter I could find written by Weinberg.[1] During this time I was in touch with the widow of R Hillel Medalie. While not a student of Weinberg, Medalie became close to him after the war. During this time he was serving as rabbi of Leeds, a tenure which incidentally led to a terrible dispute with R. Solomon Fisch, another rabbi in Leeds.[2] The dispute was so bad that Fisch refused to serve with Medalie on the Leeds beit din, and R. Joseph Apfel was appointed a dayan in Fisch’s place. Apfel was a student of Weinberg, and more responsa in Seridei Esh are addressed to him than anyone else. At this time, he was serving as a hazan in Leeds, but after being appointed to the beit din his impressive learning was able to come to the fore.
In 1996 Apfel published Yad Yosef, which contains his collected writings. It also contains letters from numerous great Torah scholars including R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, R. Dov Berish Wiedenfeld, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, R. Isaac Jacob Weiss and R. Nachum Eliezer Rabinovitch. Among the most interesting teshuvot is one that is written by R. Pinhas Toledano, the Sephardic Av Beit Din of London. Apfel turned to him with the following problem: In Leeds there is a Jewish old age home and a non-Jew cooks for the residents on Shabbat. Is this permissible? Apfel had argued that the elderly residents are regarded as holeh she-ein bo sakanah, and it is permissible for a non-Jew to cook for a holeh she-ein bo sakanah. Others disagreed and Apfel turned to Toledano for his opinion.[3]
Toledano points out that while Apfel is correct that a non-Jew may cook for a holeh she-ein bo sakanah, (see Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 328:19), it is not at all clear that all old people have this status. Nowhere in the poskim do we find such a notion. So apparently, only for those elderly who suffer from diabetes, asthma or the like can the non-Jew cook. Yet Toledano concludes that the cooking is nevertheless permissible. Since the non-Jew is hired for the entire year, i.e., a contract worker, and can miss some days (vacation, etc.), there is room for leniency. While normally melakhah cannot be done in the house of a Jew because people will assume that the worker was hired to do the labor on Shabbat, in this case everyone knows that the cook is not hired on a daily basis. Toledano supports this contention by pointing out that in London everyone has milk delivered to the house on Shabbat and no one has raised any problems with this. I am too young to remember milk delivery, but I assume that this was the case in the U.S. as well, and the parallel is the daily delivery of newspapers. Toledano therefore concludes that it is permissible to have the non-Jew cook in the old age home. Yet he adds that even though halakhically this is OK, since it is very strange to permit such a thing in a Jewish old age home, the best thing to do is to cook the food on Friday and put it on a hot plate on Shabbat.
Returning to Medalie, from Leeds he went on to become the rabbi of the Antwerp community. After his death in 1977, a very nice memorial volume appeared honoring both him and his father, R. Shemariah Judah Leib Medalie.[4]
Here is a picture of R. Hillel.

Here is R. Shemariah.

Although he came from a Chabad background, I don’t know how strong Medalie’s connection was to the movement throughout his life. His father, R. Shemariah, was close to the Rebbe, R. Yosef Yitzhak, and was a very important figure in Chabad spiritual activities in the Soviet Union.[5] He was also a major figure in the political activities that took place in Russian Orthodoxy after the fall of the Czar.[6] In 1933 he was appointed rabbi of the Moscow synagogue, which meant that he was regarded as the rav of the entire city, and also made him the most important rabbi in the Soviet Union.

Before he left the country, R Hillel Medalie studied in a secret yeshiva that was headed by R. Mordechai Feinstein, R. Moshe’s brother, who was the rav of Shklov. R. Moshe Zvi Neriyah was also a student here. The communists would later exile R. Mordechai to Siberia, where he died.[7] In the 1950’s Medalie wrote to Weinberg about his attempts to secure his father’s release from the Soviet Union. It had been years since he had communicated with his father and he did not know that in 1938 R. Shemariah was arrested, accused of counter-revolutionary activities, and shot.[8]

R. Shemariah was one of many great talmidei hakhamim who were stuck behind the Iron Curtain, and even if not killed by the regime, lived out their days in what can only be described as a living hell.[9] While it was bad for everyone in the Soviet Union, for those whose lives revolved around Torah it was even worse. In accordance with the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s wishes, the elder Medalie did not attempt to leave the Soviet Union. While other rebbes and great rabbis were fleeing the country, the Rebbe told his followers to stay, as it was their responsibility to bring Torah to the Jewish people, even in times and places of darkness. He told them that they should not only think about their own physical and spiritual well-being but that of the Jewish people as a whole.

The Rebbe only changed his position in 1930 “when Stalinist terror was unleashed against rabbis and religious functionaries. But by then the difficulties connected with leaving the USSR were formidable and large scale emigration was impossible.”[10] What this meant was that virtually all of the children and grandchildren of these hasidim ended up completely assimilating, and I think that in retrospect we can say that it was a terrible misjudgment. However, it must also be stated that when communism fell, there were still Habad families that had remained religious throughout all this time. The next time someone complains about how Habad is now dominating religious life in the former Soviet Union, he should remember this.

This reluctance towards leaving the galut, even to go to Israel, is tied in with the Habad ideology that stresses the need to keep Judaism alive throughout the world. While this is generally a very good thing, as all world travelers can attest, sometimes the way it is expressed can be maddening for a religious Zionist to read. For example, in 1955, a few years after he became Rebbe, R. Menahem Mendel Schneersohn said as follows to his followers (Sihah for 20 Av, 5715):

גם כאשר נמצאים בחוץ לארץ הרי זה המקום אשר יבחר ה’ אלקיך בו, וגם כאן יכולה להיות עבודת הקרבנות ברוחניות . . . וזוהי ההוראה שצריכים להפיק מפרשת היום – ש”בכל המקום אשר אזכיר את שמי” הרי זה ארץ ישראל

This downplaying of the Land of Israel was too much for R. Zvi Yehudah Kook, and he responded as follows (Le-Hilkhot Tzibur, p. 33):

התואר “המקום אשר יבחר ד’ א-להיך בו” נאמר בתורת ד’ מן השמים רק על קדושת ארץ ישראל וירושלים שאיננה ניתנת להעברה וחלופין ח”ו על שום מקום בעולם . . . עבודת הקודש של העסק בתורה, שקידתה, הגדלתה והאדרתה וחרדת קודש של קיום מצוותיה הקדושות באמונה שלימה, ולדבקה בד’ א-להים חיים ללכת בדרכיו, והחיוב על כל אדם מישראל לחזור כל ימיו בתשובה, לעולם לא תעקור, לא תמלא את המקום ולא תחליף את מצוות ד’ של עבודת הקרבנות, שמקומה רק בפנים ולא מבחוץ. “בכל מקום אשר אזכיר שמי, שם ארץ ישראל” – ארץ ישראל מוגדרת ומוגבלת ומסומנת לקדושתה וסגולתה ולהגדרות חיובי מצוותיה ממקורות תורה שבכתב ותורה שבע”פ מקורות חז”ל דברי רבותינו גדולי ישראל ראשונים ואחרונים. וזה לשון הגמרא ברכות דף נז. “העומד ערום בחלום, בבבל עומד בלא חטא, בארץ ישראל ערום בלא מצוות” ולשון קדשו של רש”י שם: “בבבל עומד בלא חטא, לפי שחו”ל אין לה זכיות, אלא עוון יש בישבתה וזה עומד ערום בלא אותם עוונות.” ע”כ

Returning to Medalie, he also had a very good secular education, having received an MA from the University of Manchester and a doctorate from Trinity College in Dublin. In fact, Moshe Sharett, who was Israel’s first foreign minister, wanted Medalie to serve as Israel’s ambassador to Great Britain. Medalie declined the request after discussing the matter with the Hazon Ish.[11] Knowing of his closeness to Weinberg, I was anxious to examine his papers to find any letters from him, as well as from other great rabbis. His widow told me that all of his papers had been deposited at Machon Ariel in Jerusalem. No one had gone through them; they had simply been thrown into boxes and taken away.

Around twelve years ago I went to Machon Ariel to try to find out something about the papers. No one could tell me anything and I almost despaired. Fortunately, with the help of a janitor I found two giant boxes in a storage room in the basement. This contained all the materials taken from Medalie’s home. There was no light in the storage room or even in the basement (something was wrong with the electricity that day). The only light I had was from the windows on the top of the basement walls. I took the boxes, one at a time, and emptied them on the floor. I then spent a number of hours going through all the papers, putting aside everything that came from Weinberg. The rest of the material, including letters, speeches, and pictures, was of great interest and documented many years in the rabbinate. But this would have to wait until another day. For now, my focus was on in finding the Weinberg material, and I was able to make copies of whatever I located. I used a number of the Weinberg letters in my book and also published some of them in Kitvei ha-Rav Weinberg, vols. 1 and 2.

I was leaving for the U.S. on the following day, so I made a note to myself to come back to Machon Ariel and carefully go through both large boxes. I knew that there was all sorts of fascinating material in these boxes and was very excited about a return trip. Shortly before I left, I looked at another large box (or maybe even two or three; I can no longer recall). This was full of Pinchas Peli’s papers. Peli, who was a distinguished person in his own right, played a major role in bringing knowledge of R. Soloveitchik’s thought to Israel, with the publication in 1975 of Al ha-Teshuvah. Here is his picture.

Peli had a nice relationship with the Rav and I had no doubt that there were letters from the him among the Peli papers, but this too have to await a return trip. I was certain that no one would beat me to this, as no one cared, or even know, about the dusty boxes in the basement storage room, which had dishes and glasses in front of them. (There was a small catering business in the basement.) I had seen it before – boxes placed in some far-removed place where they remain for years and years, out of sight and out of mind, much like the Cairo Geniza. There is no doubt that when the Medalie and Peli papers were donated, the survivors didn’t expect that they would be put in some far away place where no one could examine them. They thought that the papers would be catalogued and kept in some sort of archive. Since Machon Ariel had not done anything in this direction, I figured that on a future visit I would take out all of the important material and then speak to the people in charge, alerting them to whatever treasures I had found and asking that they be kept in some sort of archive.

Mrs. Medalie told me that when the papers were at her home, some Chabad people had already looked through them for material from the Rebbe. She asked me to keep an eye out for any letters from him. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything, and presumably the material had already been removed. There are some letters to Medalie in the Rebbe’s published correspondence. However, there are also many that do not appear there, but are found in R. Shalom Dov Ber Wolpo’s Shemen Sason le-Haverekha,[12] which has a lengthy chapter on Medalie and the Rebbe. I assume that the new letters published here are what that the Chabad people found at the Medalie home.

While I was working in the basement no one was watching me. No one even knew I was there. I could have walked off with anything. I considered the possibility that all this precious material would one day be lost, since Machon Ariel had no interest in it. (They probably accepted it in order to do the families a favor, but didn’t have the resources to do anything with the boxes). I rationalized to myself that since the material wasn’t being taken care of properly, something should be done. I thought that since I could watch over it and give the material a good “home,” that it would be OK for me to walk off with it. But I immediately squelched the thought, since stealing is always improper. Although there is a long list of people who have pilfered books and manuscripts, I didn’t want to join the list, even for the best possible reason.

In January 2007 I finally had the opportunity to return to Machon Ariel to pick up where I left off. I saw that the basement is now a nursery school. Everything that used to be there was removed a number of years ago. There was no one there to talk to about this at the time, but in June 2008 I returned and had the janitor take me around. The boxes were nowhere to be seen. None of the administrators had any idea what I was talking about. I was shown the library, which is undergoing renovations. It was a mess and there were a bunch of boxes that were set to be taken to genizah the following day. What a story it could have been if I had been able to save the Peli and Medalie boxes one day before they were to be lost? But unfortunately, the material was not there. I assume that when the new construction happened in the basement, the boxes were thrown out like so much other garbage. For an average person looking at a large box with old papers, it certainly would have looked like garbage. Yet how much precious material is now lost forever.

For all the great and important material found in archives around the world, much more has been lost. In fact, only a few years ago the son of one of Weinberg’s students contacted me about getting copies of the letters of Weinberg to his father, since they can’t find the originals. The father gave me copies many years ago and now they are lost. After he passed away and his house was cleaned, the letters were mistakenly thrown out. Such was probably the fate of many of the Weinberg letters that I was given copies of. It is the way of the world and there is little we can do about it, but it is frustrating nonetheless.

The visit to Machon Ariel was noteworthy in at least one respect. On the floor of the library, waiting to be sent to the genizah, was a large pile of issues of Panim el Panim. This was a weekly that appeared in the 1950’s and 1960’s, edited by Peli, which covered the entire range of Orthodox life, and included interviews with leading figures from all camps. Unfortunately, it is not available online. One of its outstanding features were the numerous pictures of gedolim, rabbis, scholars, and public figures, many of which are found nowhere else. I grabbed one issue (20 Elul 5724), in order to have something to read in the hotel, and in it one finds the following pictures of Abraham Berliner

and Jacob Barth,

which as far as I know do not appear anywhere else.

Here is a picture of R. Aaron Walkin of Pinsk, which I don’t recall ever having seen.

While on the theme of pictures of gedolim, let me note what appears in the recent volume focusing on the life of R. Bezalel Rakow, the Rav of Gateshead.[13] Rabbi Rakow thought very highly of such pictures and had them all over his house. He felt that today, when there are so many inappropriate pictures everywhere we look, it is important to have pictures of great rabbis to act as a counter. Here is a picture of Rabbi Rakow, from the beginning of the volume.

Getting back to Panim el Panim, one of the cover stories in the issue I took is about how R. Yehezkel Sarne visited Heichal Shlomo and the conflict this created, since by so doing R. Sarne was violating the Brisker Rav’s ban against the institution. Some believe that it was the Brisker Rav’s harsh stance that prevented his nephew, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, from accepting the offer to become Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel.

In general, the views of R. Sarne, and his Chevron Yeshiva, were more moderate than much of the haredi world (although he was known to be very anti-Habad). A glance at the names of those who attended the yeshiva shows that there are outstanding figures from all across the religious spectrum.[14] It is because of this that I was a little surprised when I read in a biography of R. Shakh[15] that R. Sarne once spoke very negatively to R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin about the Lubavitcher Rebbe. In fact, according to this source when R. Sarne was ill and R. Zevin visited him, R. Sarne told R. Zevin that his hasidut is heresy, his Rebbe is a heretic, and he is a heretic. When his health improved he went to R. Zevin’s house and apologized for treating him that way when the latter came to visit him. But now that he is at Zevin’s house, he wants to reaffirm that his hasidut is heresy, his rebbe is a heretic, and he is a heretic! The story as it appears is obviously a yeshiva fairy tale. But I asked R. Hayyim Sarne, R. Yehezkel’s son and current Rosh Yeshiva of Hevron (the Geula branch) if it is true that his father once spoke harshly to R. Zevin about Habad. He told me that it is true but that his father later apologized to R. Zevin, i.e., a real apology.

Since I mentioned R. Sarne and his inappropriate comments, let me tell another story that relates to the fact that he would sometimes say things that perhaps he shouldn’t have. Those who have read my book no doubt recall the funeral scene that I describe right at the beginning.[16] That, more than anything else, really shows the difficulty in placing Weinberg in any particular category. I actually feel that it was appropriate that he was buried in Har ha-Menuhot with all the other great rabbis, rather than the place chosen by the Mizrachi leaders (even if R. Herzog is also buried there). I say this for the following reason: R. Weinberg could not live in the haredi world. His views were too different from them. In fact, as my friend Shlomo Tikochinski has correctly pointed out, Weinberg is the only great sage respected in the haredi world whose views are so much at variance with it.

Yet while Weinberg wanted to live as a more modern type of rabbi, one who was a Zionist and academic scholar in addition to being a Torah sage, he wanted to be remembered as a gadol be-Yisrael. At the end of the day, he wanted his Torah works to be studied, and the only place for this was in the great yeshivot. So although he couldn’t live in their world, for posterity he would have wanted his legacy to be with them. However, I must also add the following: When Weinberg passed away all the great yeshivot were in the haredi orbit, so it would be natural that this is where he would want to be remembered. At that time, high level Torah study could hardly be found in the Mizrachi world. However, things are very different now, with the flowering of religious Zionist yeshivot of all sorts. If Weinberg were alive today, he would be able to feel fully comfortable in the religious Zionist world, since he would see the intensive Torah study and openness to secular learning of places like Maaleh Adumim, Har Etzion, and the like. Yet these yeshivot simply didn’t exist in his lifetime.

Not long after my book appeared, I was in a bookstore in New York City (does anyone remember Ideal Books?). I started talking to a certain fellow who happened to be a rav in Brooklyn and a son of one of the great Torah scholars of the previous generation. He told me that he is the only one alive who can testify as to what was said in the conversation between R. Yehezkel Sarne and the men who were in charge of the funeral, after R. Sarne and his students stopped the procession. (At the time, he was a student at the Chevron yeshiva.) Before he told me the story, he noted that one should remember that in his old age R. Sarne sometimes said things that were not appropriate. He gave one example of this: R. Sarne once went into the Brisk yeshiva and started screaming at the students that they should start learning mussar (Brisk being a place where they don’t do this). Only after telling me this story was he ready to inform me what was said at the funeral. According to him, after arguing with R. Sarne about where to bury Weinberg, Zorah Warhaftig, the Minister of Religions, was exasperated and declared: “But we have already dug the grave.” To this, R. Sarne replied (in Yiddish): “Put yourself in it!” The yeshiva students then took the coffin and proceeded to Har ha-Menuhot.

Returning to my conversation with R. Hayyim Sarne, which began with a discussion on Weinberg and moved into other areas, I was at his home for a good while and asked him many things. I even got into a disagreement with him on one issue. I am sure this surprised him, since roshei yeshiva are not used to young men challenging something they say. He insisted that it was better for people to be secularists than to identify with one of the non-Orthodox denominations. I responded that the opposite was the case, as the non-Orthodox groups at least add some Jewish content to people’s lives. They also help slow down assimilation. (Of course, all this is valuable in and of itself, but from a purely utilitarian standpoint it also makes the job of the kiruv organizations easier.) Yet he didn’t buy it and couldn’t even see my point, which I think is shared by virtually all thinking people in the Diaspora.

I used the conversation to ask him why the haredim have such a negative view of R. Kook’s philosophical writings, and his answer was very enlightening. To this day I have never seen it anywhere in print. He told me that one can turn pages and pages in R. Kook’s philosophical works without coming across a rabbinic text (ma’amar hazal). He insisted that a “kosher” work of Jewish thought must be constantly citing rabbinic texts. I had never thought of this point before, but I think it is quite significant. As all who study R. Kook know, he writes in such an original fashion that he becomes the primary text, and one can indeed turn many pages before seeing a ma’amar hazal.

In the new biography of the Brisker Rav (R. Velvel Soloveitchik), there is a very nice picture of R. Hayyim Sarne and his father in Switzerland, together with R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and R. Wolf Rosengarten of Zurich.[17] This has nothing at all to do with R. Velvel. It is included because the picture was taken in Switzerland and the biography discusses R. Velvel’s few trips there for health reasons. I assume that the author had this nice picture which he wanted to include, so he found some tenuous connection, even though, as I mentioned, it has nothing to do with R. Velvel.

While R. Velvel was in Switzerland, he was taken care of by Rosengarten, who appears prominently in the biography. R. Velvel also spent a lot of time with his nephew, R. Moshe Soloveitchik of Zurich. Both Rosengarten and Soloveitchik were also close to Weinberg. It has fascinated me that in all of the hundreds of letters that I have, Weinberg never mentions the Brisker Rav’s trips to Switzerland. He also had no interest in going to meet R. Velvel, even though the distance between them was no more than a few hours. I get the feeling that Weinberg felt that R. Velvel was in such a different world that it would be hard for them to even have a pleasant conversation. It might be that he was even intimidated by the Brisker Rav’s extremism. What makes this more interesting is that R. Moshe Sternbuch, who had become a great follower of the Brisker Rav, was also close to Weinberg. R. Bezalel Rakow taught at the Montreux yeshiva in the 1950’s, and he too had a very close relationship with Weinberg. As with so many other Torah scholars in Switzerland, Rakow too went to see the Brisker Rav.

I think we might get a sense of why Weinberg made no effort to meet R. Velvel from the following story:[18] When Rakow went to meet R. Velvel, the latter refused to see him after he heard that he taught at the yeshiva in Montreux. This yeshiva was founded in 1927 and drew students from all over Western Europe. While R. Elijah Botchko, the Rosh Yeshiva, was a member of Agudah and the yeshiva was viewed as part of this world (R. Aharon Leib Steinman even studied there during World War II), he didn’t tow the party line and was certainly more positive towards Zionism than the typical Agudist. Both he and his son and successor, R. Moshe Botchko, were also not opposed to the students getting a secular education. In the 1950’s there was even a plan to for the yeshiva to provide this. It is this issue in particular that is mentioned in explaining why the Brisker Rav refused to see Rakow:

דאפשר שגם הוא בין אלו שרצו להכניס בישיבה לימודי חול בין כותלי הישיבה

Only after Rakow was able to convince the Brisker Rav’s son that he had the proper hashkafot was he permitted to meet the Brisker Rav. He later recalled that the reason he was able to develop a good relationship with R. Velvel was because the latter valued his efforts in “fighting at the yeshiva so that they not incorporate secular studies.” I think it is likely that knowing how different his outlook was from that of R. Velvel, and that R. Velvel had no hesitation in speaking his mind, Weinberg decided to avoid what might turn into a difficult meeting. Whereas other gedolim from the yeshiva world wouldn’t dream of getting into an argument with Weinberg or telling him why his outlook was mistaken, the Brisker Rav, who always spoke his mind, would have had no such compunctions. As for the Montreux yeshiva, in 1985 it relocated to Israel and is now a hesder yeshiva.[19] This shows that even apart from the issue of secular studies, the yeshiva did not share the Brisker Rav’s approach.
[1] Since my book appeared I have also discovered many more letters, including a collection sent to one of the leaders of the yeshiva world (whose identity I am not at present able to divulge). In my Note on Sources, found after the preface, I mentioned that while such letters might cause me to reevaluate some of my conclusions, I was confident that the picture I presented would not be substantially altered. I was happy to see that nothing in these letters caused me to change any of my earlier thoughts.
[2] See Fisch’s Yeriot Shlomo (Jerusalem, 1983). Among Fisch’s contributions to Jewish scholarship are his editions of Midrash ha-Gadol on Numbers and Deuteronomy and his commentary to Ezekiel in the Soncino Books of the Bible.
[3] Incidentally, I think that the standard position is that bishul akum for a holeh she-ein bo sakanah is only permitted on Shabbat, but not during the week. See e.g., Kaf ha-Hayyim, Orah Hayyim 328:119. Halakhic experts, please correct me if I am mistaken.
[4] Shiloh, ed. R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin (Jerusalem, 1983).
[5] When the non-Hasidim and Chabad were finally able to agree on a joint political front in the Soviet Union, the plan was for a group of four non-hasidic and three hasidic rabbis to form a sort of Moetzet Gedolei ha-Torah, the members of which did not have to actually live in the Soviet Union. The four non-hasidim chosen were R. Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, R. Isser Zalman Meltzer, R. Isaac Jacob Rabinowitz, and R. Avraham Dov Baer Kahana Shapiro. The hasidic side was to be represented by R. Yosef Yitzhak Schneersohn (the Lubavitcher Rebbe), R. Menahem Mendel Schneersohn (the son of the Bobruisker Rebbe, R. Shemariah Noah), and R. Shemariah Medalie. See Mordechai Altschuler, “Ha-Politikah shel ha-Mahaneh ha-Dati ve-ha-Haredi be-Rusyah bi-Shenat 1917,” Shvut 15 (1992), p. 22.
[6] I mean, of course, Russian Jewish Orthodoxy, but I think it is worth noting that in pictures of rabbis from Old Russia one sometimes has trouble telling them apart from the Russian Orthodox priests, as they both work black and had beards. In fact, I found one such example with an American Orthodox rabbi. See here.
[7] See Iggerot Moshe, vol. 8, introduction, p. 18.
[8] See Avraham Greenbaum, Rabbanei Berit ha-Moatzot bein Milhamot ha-Olam (Jerusalem, 1994), p. 36. Greenbaum also notes that in 1937 R. Hillel Medalie’s brother, R. Moshe, was exiled to Siberia where he was killed. Unfortunately, this helpful book is not available online. However, I would like to call readers’ attention to another book which is also quite valuable and is online: Peninah Meizlish’s Rabanim she-Nispu be-Shoah. This book contains an enormous list of rabbis who perished in the Holocaust. Available here.
Speaking of online resources, it amazes me that there are still people who buy the Bar Ilan Responsa CD. Apparently, they don’t know that one can access this through the Spertus College library for very little money.
[9] Another example is R. Levi Yitzhak Schneersohn, the father of R. Menahem Mendel, the last Lubavitcher Rebbe. R. Levi Yitzhak died in 1944 after having been exiled to Kazakhstan. See Avraham Greenbaum, “Rabbi Shlomo (Solomon) Schlifer and Jewish Religious Life in the Soviet Union 1943-1957,” Shvut 8 (1999),p. 126 n. 10. Another example is R. Shaul Yisraeli’s father, R. Binyamin, who was rav of Koidanovo, a town near Minsk (see R. Shaul’s introduction to his Amud ha-Yemini). He was exiled to Siberia where he died. R. Shaul writes that his grave site is unknown, and therefore he called his first book Amud ha-Yemini, למען יהא לעמוד זכרון על קברו אשר לא נודע. R. Shaul and two others escaped from the Soviet Union by illegally crossing the border into Poland, which would have meant the death penalty if they were caught (as no doubt many others were). This dangerous step was taken only after Moscow’s Chief Rabbi, R. Yaakov Klemes, performed the Goral ha-Gra. See here.
Before setting out for the border, R. Shaul spent time in R. Yehezkel Abramsky’s apartment in Moscow. See Aharon Sorasky, Melekh be-Yofyo (Jerusalem, 2004), vol. 1, p. 199. R. Shaul made his way to Jerusalem where he became one of the leading Torah scholars in Israel. Because of his religious Zionist outlook, he is another figure who is scrupulously ignored by the Frankel Rambam, even though he was an expert in the agricultural halakhot and should have been cited repeatedly in the Frankel index to Sefer Zeraim. See R. Yaakov Ariel’s introduction to R. Shaul’s Havot Binyamin. In Sorasky’s book, cited previously in this note, R. Shaul is not referred to as “Gaon” and his name is not affixed with זצ”ל. But we should be thankful that at least R. Kook and R. Herzog are given the proper titles (but not R. Soloveitchik!)
[10] David E. Fishman, “Preserving Tradition in the Land of Revolution: The Religious Leadership of Soviet Jewry, 1917-1930,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed., The Uses of Tradtion (New York, 1992), p. 106 n. 48. Fishman also notes that R. Yosef Yitzhak repeated the advice that his great-grandfather had given to one who wanted to go on aliyah in the 1850’s: “We should make this the Land of Israel. Create a Land of Israel here.” This remained the Habad approach and is one of the reasons why the movement never stressed aliyah.
[11] See Nitzan Kedar, “Ha-Medinai she-Nishkah,” Ha-Tzofeh, Nov. 18, 2007, available here.
[12] This book claims that Medalie was born in 1918. Yet this is incorrect. In 1938 Medalie came to England to start his university studies. The Jewish Chronicle of May 20, 1938, has an entire story on this, complete with a picture of the young man. According to the paper, he was twenty-four years old at the time and had received semikhah from R. Isaac Herzog and R. Isser Zalman Meltzer. In Shiloh, pp. 15-16, semikhot from R. Isser Zalman and R. Moses Avigdor Amiel are printed.
[13] Be-Tzel ha-Kodesh (Jerusalem, 2007), p. 131.
[14] See here.
A number of distinguished people are missing from this list, and the following come to mind: R. Eliezer Waldenberg, R. Yitzhak Abadi, R. Aryeh Ralbag, R. Zev Segal, Prof. Yaakov Sussmann, Prof. Reuven Kimelman, and Dr. David Lando.
[15] Moshe Horovitz, She-ha-Maftehot be-Yado (Jerusalem, 1989), p. 94.
[16] Here is a little quiz: What classic book by a woman historian also begins with a funeral scene? Hint: The book is devoted to an event that is often related to the Ninth of Av. I don’t mean the Spanish Expulsion, which contrary to popular belief–a belief popularized by Abarbanel–did not take place on this date. See Yitzhak Baer, A History of the Jews of Christian Spain (Philadelphia, 1978), vol. 2, p. 439.
[17] Shimon Yosef Meller, Ha-Rav mi-Brisk (Jerusalem, 2006), p. 368. I wrote to Meller asking his permission to post the picture, but I haven’t yet heard back from him.
[18] See Be-Tzel ha-Kodesh, p. 118.
[19] See here.



Some Literary, Scholarly & Halachic Perspectives on Medieval Ash

Some Literary, Scholarly & Halachic Perspectives on
Medieval Ashkenazi Attitudes Toward Martyrdom

by Yitzhak of בין דין לדין

Prose

George Eliot, in Daniel Deronda, depicts the ineffable, exquisite Mirah Lapidoth contemplating her recent abortive suicide attempt:
She went on musingly–

“I thought it was not wicked. Death and life are one before the Eternal. I know our fathers slew their children and then slew themselves, to keep their souls pure. I meant it so. (George Eliot, Daniel Deronda, Chapter XVII)

She elaborates, several chapters later:
Then I thought of my people, how they had been driven from land to land and been afflicted, and multitudes had died of misery in their wandering–was I the first? And in the wars and troubles when Christians were cruelest, our fathers had sometimes slain their children and afterward themselves: it was to save them from being false apostates. That seemed to make it right for me to put an end to my life; for calamity had closed me in too, and I saw no pathway but to evil. But my mind got into war with itself, for there were contrary things in it. I knew that some had held it wrong to hasten their own death, though they were in the midst of flames; and while I had some strength left it was a longing to bear if I ought to bear–else where was the good of all my life? (ibid. XX)
The one who “held it wrong to hasten [his] own death, though [he was] in the midst of flames” may be R. Hanina B. Tradyon:
מצאוהו לרבי חנינא בן תרדיון שהיה יושב ועוסק בתורה ומקהיל קהלות ברבים וספר תורה מונח לו בחיקו הביאוהו וכרכוהו בספר תורה והקיפוהו בחבילי זמורות והציתו בהן את האור והביאו ספוגין של צמר ושראום במים והניחום על לבו כדי שלא תצא נשמתו מהרה …

אמרו לו תלמידיו … אף אתה פתח פיך ותכנס [בך] האש אמר להן מוטב שיטלנה מי שנתנה ועל יחבל הוא בעצמו אמר לו קלצטונירי רבי אם אני מרבה בשלהבת ונוטל ספוגין של צמר מעל לבך אתה מביאני לחיי העולם הבא אמר לו הן השבע לי נשבע לו מיד הרבה בשלהבת ונטל ספוגין של צמר מעל לבו יצאה נשמתו במהרה אף הוא קפץ ונפל לתוך האור יצאה בת קול ואמרה רבי חנינא בן תרדיון וקלצטונירי מזומנין הן לחיי העולם הבא … (גמרא עבודה זרה דף י”ח ע”א)

Poetry
References to suicides and murders of children by their parents (and occasionally teachers) to avoid apostasy abound in both the Halachic and liturgical medieval Ashkenazic literature. A classic example from the former:
ואך את דמכם וגו’. אזהרה לחונק עצמו. ואמרו בבראשית רבה (ל”ד י”ג) יכול אפילו כחנניה מישאל ועזריה, תלמוד לומר אך. פירוש יכול אפילו כמו אלו שמסרו עצמן לקידוש השם שלא יוכל לחבול בעצמו אם הוא ירא שלא יוכל בעצמו לעמוד בנסיון, תלמוד לומר אך, כי בשעת השמד יכול למסור עצמו למיתה ולהרוג עצמו. וכן בשאול בן קיש שאמר לנערו שלוף חרבך ודקרני בה וגו’ (שמואל א’ פרק ל”א פסוק ד’). ומכאן מביאין ראיה אותן ששוחטין התינוק בשעת הגזירה…

ומעשה ברב אחד ששחט הרבה תינוקות בשעת השמד כי היה ירא שיעבירום על דת, והיה רב אחד עמו והיה כועס עליו ביותר וקראו רוצח והוא לא היה חושש. ואמר אותו רב אם כדברי יהרג אותו רב במיתה משונה, וכן היה שתפסוהו עכו”ם והיו פושטין עורו ונותנין חול בין העור והבשר, ואחר כך נתבטלה הגזירה, ואם לא שחט אותן התינוקות היו ניצולין: (דעת זקנים מבעלי התוספות בראשית פרק ט’ פסוק ה’, וכעין דבריהם עם קצת שינויים הובאו בבדק הבית יו”ד סימן קנ”ז בשם ארחות חיים)

Here are two poignant references, from the Kinos of Tishah B’Av, to suicide and the slaughter of children to avoid conversion and sin:
אראלים צאו וצעקו מרה / ספוד תמרור האגדו בחבורה
קול כחולה צרה כמבכירה / התאוננו על עדת שה פזורה
עלימו כי נגזרה גזרה / בחרי אף וזעם ועברה
ונתועדו בפרישות ובטהרה / לקדש שם הגדול והנורא
ואיש את אחיו חזקו בעזרה / לדבק [בו] ביראה טהורה
בלי לכרוע לעבודה זרה / ולא חסו על-גבר וגבירה
על פנים צפירת תפארה / אבל אזרו גבורה יתרה
להלום ראש ולקרץ שזרה / ואלימו דברו באמירה
לא זכינו לגדלכם לתורה / נקריבכם כעולה והקטרה
ונזכה עמכם לאורה / הצפונה מעין כל ועלומה

אז הסכימו גדולים וקטנים / לקבל באהבה דין שוכן מעונים
וזקנים דשנים ורעננים / הם היו תחלה נדונים
ויצאו לקראתם עזי פנים / ונהרגו המונים המונים
ונתערבו פדרים עם פרשדונים / והאבות אשר היו רחמנים
נהפכו לאכזר כיענים / והפיסו על אבות ועל בנים
ומי שגורל עלה-לו ראשונים / הוא נשחט בחלפות וסכינים
ובחורים עלי תולע אמונים / הם לחכו עפר כתנינים
והכלות לבושות שנים / מעלפות בזרועות חתנים
מנתחות בחרב וכידונים / זכרו זאת קהל עדת נבונים
ואל תחשו מהרבות קינים / והספידו על חסידים והגונים
אשר צללו במים הזידונים / לזכר זאת נפשי עגומה
(קינות לתשעה באב כמנהג פולין (מהדורת גולדשמידט)), “החרישו ממני ואדברה”, מספר כ”ג

Professors Simon Schwartzfuchs and Avraham Grossman disagree both on the quantity and significance of the liturgical poetry composed contemporaneously to the events of the First Crusade, and their divergent views on this question yield different inferences as to the magnitude of the Crusade’s impact on the ravaged German communities. Grossman details Schwartzfuchs’ position:
שוורצפוקס ממעיט ביותר ברישומן של גזירות אלה על הדורות הסמוכים ולאחריהם, וזאת הוא מסיק בעיקר ממיעוט העיסוק בהן ביצירה הרוחנית לענפיה ולסוגיה. עניין מיוחד יש בדבריו על הפיוטים. באותם ימים תפסו הפיוטים מקום נכבד בחיי הקהילות ולהדי הזמן ניתן בהם ביטוי מובהק. אם אכן לא נותר רישום הגזירות בהם, כי אז היה הדבר מעיד על מיעוט העניין בהן ועל הרושם הזעום שעשו על בני אותם דורות:

אשר לפיוטים שעניינם מסע הצלב הראשון, אשר ליקטו הברמן וקודמיו, מספרם הזעום מפתיע. הברמן הביא שניים שלושה פיוטים בני זמנו של מסע הצלב הראשון. יתרה מזאת, לא ברור כלל אם כולם דנים במסע הצלב. וכבר העיר ברון, שפיוטים אלה חוזרים על עצמם ועל ניסוחם, המעורפל במידה רבה, בכל הנוגע למאורעות שהם אמורים לתאר ולהזכיר (שוורצפוקס, “מקומם של מסעי הצלב בדברי ימי ישראל”, בתוך: ר’ בונפיל, מ’ בן-ששון, י’ הקר (עורכים), תרבות וחברה בתולדות ישראל בימי-הביניים, קובץ מאמרים לזכרו של ח”ה בן-ששון, ירושלים תשמ”ט, עמוד 257)

Yet Grossman himself disagrees:
קשה להסכים עם קביעות אלה מהטעמים דלהלן: מספר הפיוטים הקדומים המתייחסים אל גזירות תתנ”ו שהובאו בספרו של הברמן איננו ‘שניים או שלושה’. הוא הביא בספרו שבעה פיוטים כאלה, ועליהם יש להוסיף ארבע קינות של ר’ אלעזר ב”ר נתן (הראב”ן) המשולבות בתיאור הגזירות. למעשה, כבר כתב הברמן במפורש, כי הוא מביא לקט ומבחר מן הפיוטים על גזירות תתנ”ו, וכי הוא לא ירד למנות את כולם. בין אלה שלא הובאו על ידו יש לציין במיוחד את הקינה על חורבנה של קהילת וורמייזא שחוברה סמוך מאוד לאותן הגזירות, ואולי מיד עם סיומן, על ידי ר’ יעקב בר’ יצחק הלוי, בנו של ראש ישיבת וורמייזא…

בקינות אלה אין תיאורים כלליים של הגזירות אלא התייחסות מפורשת אל האירועים בשנת תתנ”ו. עליהם יש להוסיף פיוטים אחרים שנתחברו לאחר מסע הצלב השני וגזירות אחרות, אשר בהם תינו הכותבים את הצרות שתכפו עליהם מבלי להתייחס דווקא אל תתנ”ו, אך ניתן לחוש בבירור כי גם הן נלקחו בחשבון מניין הצרות. מדרך הטבע ישלב כותב מאוחר את פרעות זמנו עם אלה שקדמו להן ולא יסתפק בהזכרת הראשונות בלבד, ואין בעובדא זו כדי ללמד שנחלש או נעלם רישומן של הצרות הראשונות.

כללו של דבר, בתחום הפיוט נשארו הדים מרובים וקשים לגזירות תתנ”ו, ולכך יש חשיבות מרובה. הפיוט שימש באותם ימים ככלי הביטוי העיקרי להגיגיהם של בני הקהילות, ובו ביטאו את שמחותיהם ובעיקר את מכאוביהם ויגונם. יתר על כן, מסורות שונות היו מצויות בידי חכמי אשכנז שלאחר הגזירות, והן הועברו מדור לדור, תוך שמירת משמעותם של פרטים שונים הנמצאים באותם פיוטים שנתחברו על גזירות תתנ”ו. לפי מסורות אלה, אף שחלק מדברי הפייטנים נראים כתיאורים כלליים בלבד, נתכוונו בהם הכותבים לרמוז אל אירועים ממשיים שהתרחשו באותן גזירות. (אברהם גרוסמן, ‘שורשיו של קידוש השם באשכנז הקדומה’, בתוך: ישעיהו גפני, אביעזר רביצקי (עורכים), ‘קדושת החיים וחירוף הנפש, קובץ מאמרים לזכרו של אמיר יקותיאל’, עמודים 101 – 103)

Scholarship

Suicide and Infanticide in Halachah: A critique of Soloveitchik, Halbertal, and Berkovitz

All of this serves as an appropriate introduction to an analysis of Professor Haym Soloveitchik’s provocative discussion of medieval Ashkenazic halachic attitudes toward martydom in Halakhah, Hermeneutics and Martyrdom in Medieval Ashkenaz (Part I of II) (Jewish Quarterly Review, Volume 94 Number 1 Winter 2004 p. 77) [I am greatly indebted to Andy for drawing my attention to, and providing me with copies of Soloveitchik’s article, as well as the previously cited article by Grossman].
Soloveitchik opens by arguing:
Some fifteen years ago, I argued that there are occasions when cultural norms shape the perception of Halakhah, even on the part of its greatest thinkers. There is no pure empiricism in Halakhah, any more than in any other discipline. The simplest text, if it leads to unbelievable conclusions, will be either discounted or reinterpreted. The more outlandish the conclusions of the straightforward interpretation, the less plausible need be the reinterpretation. Despite its improbability, it will carry the air of verisimilitude to those who share the shock at the alternative. This does not happen often, but it does happen – even in such important areas of Jewish law as martyrdom.

The strange reasoning of the Tosafists on the subject of martyrdom does not, I contended, bear legal scrutiny. Both their justification of suicide when fearing that one might yield to torture and apostasize and their even more surprising defense of parents slaughtering infants to prevent them from being reared as Christians were post facto justifications of the conduct of Jewish communities during the first Crusade. …

The matter seemed fairly obvious to me, and I contented myself with one long footnote of documentation. This was evidently a mistake. Much to my surprise, this claim stirred considerable controversy. …

Clearly the matter needs to be treated in far greater detail. Let us turn to the Tosafist writings on martyrdom, examine them carefully, and see whether their hermeneutical sins on this topic are indeed so scarlet. …
Soloveitchik follows with an intricately detailed and closely reasoned argumentation showing that the Tosafists’ reasoning in this area is not compelling and arbitrary, but that, on the other hand, the dilemmas faced by the Jewish victims of the Crusades had been unbearably agonizing. [In a recent, brief post, Wolf2191 is dismissive of Soloveitchik’s entire argument, but I think it has more merit than he concedes, and that it is, in any event, worthy of a more detailed discussion.] Soloveitchik eloquently concludes:
The choice that now confronted the Jews probed the limits of the halakhah. The laws of martyrdom treat the issue of when one is obliged to lay down one’s life. What happens after one is dead is irrelevant legally, but only too relevant in real life. The fate of the child of the now-dead martyr was out of the purview of halakhah, but remained at the very center of Jewish concerns for their Jewish continuance. Halakhah could not adequately address that burning question, so Jews addressed it on their own. Halakhists endorsed their solution, some even rationalized it after a fashion. The inadequacy of their answers was not simply because they were given after the bloody fact, but also because the received halakhah was inadequate to resolve the tragic question raised by their present condition: What was the point of Jewish martyrdom if the children would be reared as Christians?
Although Soloveitchik’s arguments are, as I mentioned before, generally quite cogent, I believe that a couple of his points are erroneous. He writes:
Let us now turn to the issue of killing one’s children rather than allowing them to fall into the hands of the idolators (i.e. Christians). …
Perhaps nothing better illustrates the factors at work than [R. Meir of Rothenberg’s] responsum. It reads:
יהודי אחד שאל את ר’ מאיר שיחיה, אם צריך כפרה על ששחט(א) אשתו וד’ בניו ביום הרג רב בקופלינש עיר הדמים, כי כן ביקשוהו יען ראו כי יצא הקצף מלפני ד’ והתחילו האויבים להרוג בני קל חי הנהרגים על קדוש השם. וגם הוא רצה להרוג את עצמו במית(ו)תם אלא שהיצילו ד’ על ידי גויים.

וכתב לו: לא ידענא שפיר מה אידון ביה, כי ודאי ההורג את עצמו על ייחוד ד’ רשאי לחבול בעצמו, ואמר יכול כשאול, ת”ל אך. … אבל לשחוט אחרים צריך עיון למצוא ראייה להתיר, ומשאול אין ראייה לאיסור אחרי שצווה דוד להרוג אותו (וכן) בן איש גר העמלקי, שנאמר אנכ[י] מות(ו)תתי משיח ד’, [דדילמא משיח ד’] שאני. …

מיהו דבר זה פשט היתירו, כי שמענו ומצאנו שהרבה גדולים שהיו שוחטין את בניהם ואת בנותיהן. … ונראה להביא ראייה להתיר, דכי היכי דאמר יכול כשאול? ת”ל אך, ה”נ [הכי נמי] נימא דההורג את חבירו על קידוש השם מותר, דבההוא קרא כתיב ומיד האדם ומיד איש וגו’. …

ומי (שמטעינן) [שמטעינו] כפרה, הוא מוציא לעז על החסידים הראשונים. ואחרי שכוונתו היה טובה, מרוב אהבת יוצרינו יתברך שמו פגע ונגע (במעמד) [במחמד] עיניו, וגם הם חילו פניו על ככה …
וצור ישראל ינקום את נקמתינו ונקמת תורתו ונקמת דם עבדיו השפוך בימינו ויראו (עינו) [עינינו] [וישמח לבינו]

… [R. Meir’s] arguments are shot through with inconsistencies. … When confronted with a proof against the practice of slaughtering others from the Saul narrative, R. Meir points out immediately, and quite correctly, that nothing can be inferred from Saul as he was God’s anointed king. Yet a line later, he advances the permissibility of suicide for anyone confronting religious persecution from that very same narrative. R. Meir perceives the noncomparability of royalty and commoners when the argument is against the killing of others but not when the argument is in its favor. (p. 98)
This objection is specious; Maharam’s logic is perfectly clear and consistent. The enormity of killing God’s anointed king is greater than that of killing a commoner, so we cannot extend a stringency found in the context of the former to the latter. A leniency found in the context of the former, however, must a fortiori apply to the latter! Perhaps Soloveitchik is suggesting that just as Maharam distinguishes between royalty and commoners as the objects of suicide, so too ought he to distinguish between them as the perpetrators, and grant more latitude to the former, but this is a non-sequitur.
A subsequent argument made by Soloveitchik is more profoundly flawed. He cites the following remarks of Rav Moshe of Zurich (Hagahos S’mak):
ואותם הקדושים ששחטו עצמם וזרעם כשבאו לידי ניסיון מפני שלא רצו לסמוך על דעתן … והיו יראים שיעבירום הגויים על דת ויהיו שם שמים מתחלל על ידיהם, כולם יש להם חלק לעולם הבא וקדושים גמורים הם … ומכאן סמכו לשחוט הילדים בשעת הגזירה שאינם יודעים בין טוב לרעה לפי שאנו יראים פן ישתקעו בין הגויים בגיותן כשיגדלו, מוטב שימותו זכאים ואל ימותו חייבים, שכן מצינו גבי בן סורר ומורה שעל שם סופם ללסטם את הבריות ומחלל שבתות, לפיכך הוא בסקילה, עד כאן לשון האבי העזרי.
and proceeds to challenge them:
The problem with his analogy is simply that the law of the rebellious son was declared inoperative by the Oral Law, a declaration which found expression in the famous talmudic dictum “there never was nor could there ever have been a case of the rebellious son” (lo’ haya ve-lo ‘atid lihiyot). The inconceivability of punishing someone – and capital punishment at that – not for the commission of a crime but on the basis of a prognosis of crime was an halakhic impossibility. If the Palestinian sages of the first and second century could not condemn a rebellious son to death as the Pentateuch had ordered, how could a medieval parent condemn an innocent babe to death on its basis?!…
Soloveitchik then proceeds to eloquently explicate how inconceivably horrific to a medieval Jewish parent would the thought of his child growing up Christian have been, and then concludes:
Of all the arguments, that of the rebellious son is the most absurd and at the same time the truest. What had been inconceivable to the Palestinian sages of the first and second century – How could one predict with absolute certainty that a child would become a murderer?! – had become only too real for the tiny Jewish minority in medieval Europe. They could predict with frightening accuracy that a child would live a life of crime and infamy. Death in this world was a small price to pay to forestall a life of sin and death for an eternity; any caring parent would pay that price willingly.
The fundamental problem with Soloveitchik’s argument here is that the Palestinian sages of the first and second centuries said no such thing! The passage in question states:
מתניתין: … רבי יהודה אומר אם לא היתה אמו ראויה לאביו אינו נעשה בן סורר ומורה:
מאי אינה ראויה … אלא בשוה לאביו קאמר תניא נמי הכי רבי יהודה אומר אם לא היתה אמו שוה לאביו בקול ובמראה ובקומה אינו נעשה בן סורר ומורה מאי טעמא דאמר קרא איננו שומע בקלנו מדקול בעינן שוין מראה וקומה נמי בעינן שוין

כמאן אזלא הא דתניא בן סורר ומורה לא היה ולא עתיד להיות ולמה נכתב דרוש וקבל שכר כמאן כרבי יהודה איבעית אימא רבי שמעון היא דתניא אמר רבי שמעון וכי מפני שאכל זה תרטימר בשר ושתה חצי לוג יין האיטלקי אביו ואמו מוציאין אותו לסקלו אלא לא היה ולא עתיד להיות ולמה נכתב דרוש וקבל שכר אמר רבי יונתן אני ראיתיו וישבתי על קברו…

While a simple reading of the Gemara indicates merely that R. Yehudah and R. Shimon are setting forth technical reasons for the impossibility, or at least implausibility, of an actual occurrence of a בן סורר ומורה, Soloveitchik apparently understands that they are actually objecting in principle to the very idea of the בן סורר ומורה, and are therefore finding excuses to empty the law of practical significance. He, however, marshals not a shred of evidence for this reading. Moreover, we have seen that the Gemara subsequently cites a Beraisa which makes an identically worded assertion about the impossibility of a בית המנוגע. Is there some overwhelming ethical objection to that law, too?
It is important to note that the issue is not the plausibility or even correctness of Soloveitchik’s reading of the Gemara; the key question is merely whether Rav Moshe of Zurich (and the Ra’aviyah, if the attribution to him is correct) could have reasonably understood it in the way they did without a need to arrive at a predetermined conclusion. Insofar as the answer is in the affirmative, there is no basis whatsoever for terming the argument ‘absurd.’
Additionally, Soloveitchik neglects to mention the fact that these statements about בן סורר ומורה are apparently minority opinions and not normative! Rambam (Commentary to the Mishnah ibid. 71b), Meiri (ibid.) and Rav Ovadyah of Bartenura (ibid. 8:4) all state that the Halachah does not follow R. Yehudah. [I have not seen them, or anyone else, discuss whether the Halachah follows R. Shimon, perhaps for the very reason that his statement, contra Soloveitchik, is not prescriptive in the first place, and is merely expressing an assessment of the unlikelihood of an actual occurence of a בן סורר ומורה. This is indeed the understanding of Remah, as we shall see below.] Moreover, Rambam’s codification of the laws of בן סורר ומורה does not include the statements of R. Yehudah and R. Shimon, and it does not contain the slightest indication that the laws have no practical application (יד החזקה ממרים פרק ז).
The only clue that Soloveitchik gives as to the basis of his reading of the Gemara is a footnote reference to Professor Moshe Halbertal’s Interpretative Revolutions in the Making: Values as Interpretative Considerations in Midrashei Halakhah. Here is how Halbertal understands R. Yehudah’s statement:
תשובה אחרת והפוכה לדגם של גזרת מלך מצויה בתוספתא בדברי התנא קמא: ‘בן סורר ומורה לא היה ולא עתיד להיות’. כמו רבי שמעון בן אלעזר, תנא זה אינו מקבל את טענת ‘נדון על שם סופו’, אלא מציע לשאלת ‘וכי מפני…’ תשובה שונה לחלוטין מגזרת הכתוב. תשובה זו היא הקיצונית ביותר מבחינת המשקל שהיא מייחסת לטיעון מוסרי בפרשנות, ומהווה מודל שלישי של תגובה לבעיה המוסרית הטבועה בסוגייתינו. …

מדרשו של רבי יהודה … ודאי אינו נובע מהבנת הצמידות ‘אביו ואמו’ כפשוטה, שהרי צמידות זאת אינו מחייבת זהות מוחלטת בין ההורים אלא השתתפות שניהם בפעולת התפיסה…

בגישת רבי יהודה התנאים וההגבלות שנוצרו הם שרירותיים מבחינת תוכנם: אין כל טעם פנימי בדרישה שהוריו של הבן יהיו זהים בקולם, במראם ובקומתם. מטרתן של הגבלות אלו היא אפוא ביטול מימושה של הפרשה. (p. 59)

That which is self-evident to Professor Halbertal appears quite dubious to me; what evidence is there that R. Yehudah’s requirement of physical identity between the parents stems from anything other than technical textual, exegetical considerations? Indeed, the Gemara actually states similar requirements for the two Se’irim of Yom Ha’Kippurim and the two Zipporim of a Mezora (יומא דף ס”ב ע”א – ע”ב, ועיין תוספות ישנים שם, ציינו בגליון הש”ס בסנהדרין). Although Halbertal might argue that the derivations of the Gemara for those laws (inferences from linguistic superfluities) are more compelling than R. Yehudah’s, I think that anyone familiar with Talmudic exegesis must concede that it often involves textual arguments that we would not consider particularly compelling.
Rav Meir Ha’Levi Abulafia (Remah) elaborates slightly on R. Yehudah’s exegesis (יד רמה סנהדרין שם ד”ה מתניתין):
מאי טעמא דאמר קרא איננו שומע בקולינו משמע שני גופין וקול אחד ומאי קאמר קרא על כרחיך שוין קאמר ומדקול בעינן שוין מראה וקומה נמי בעינן שוין:
Remah seems to assume that R. Yehudah is engaged in typical and straightforward textual exegesis.
Halbertal continues with an analysis of R. Shimon’s position:
בהמשך מציע התלמוד זיהוי אחר לתנא הגורס ‘לא היה ולא עתיד להיות’:

אי בעית אימא רבי שמעון היא, דתניא אמר רבי שמעון וכי מפני שאכל זה תרטימר בשר ושתה חצי לוג יין האיטלקי אביו ואמו מוציאים אותו לסקלו? אלא לא היה ולא עתיד להיות, ולמה נכתכ, דרוש וקבל שכר. אמר רבי יונתן אני ראיתיו וישבתי על קברו.

ישנן שני דרכים להבין את שאלת רבי שמעון ותשובתו. אפשר ששאלת רבי שמעון היא הבעיה המוסרית ‘וכי מפני …’, ותשובתו – הפרשה לא ניתנה ליישום אלא ‘דרוש וקבל שכר’. לפי פירוש זה, בפנינו מתודה פרשנות מרחיקת לכת. שלא כרבי יהודה, שדורש את הביטוי ‘אביו ואמו’ ובאמצעיתו יוצר תנאים המונעים את חלות הפרשה, רבי שמעון אינו נזקק לדרשת הפסוקים אלא קובע מתוך הערכה כוללת שאין הם ישימים. לפי רבי שמעון, אין הפרשה עצמה קובעת את התנאים ההופכים אותה לבלתי אפשרית. לדעתו, העובדה שקיימת פה בעיה מוסרית מלמדת שאין ליישם פרשה זאת. הפרשן אינו נתלה בכתוב כלשהו כדי לבטל את הפרשה מתוכה: דיו בהעלאת השאלה ובהכרעה שהיא ניתנה ללימוד ולא למעשה, טיעון שגם אותו אין הוא מוכיח מהכתובים עצמם…מובן שאפשרות זאת בדברי רבי שמעון יוצרת תקדיש מדהים של חירות פרשנות שעל פיו אין כלל צורך בפירוש, אך קיימת אפשרות אחרת בהבנת דבריו.

האפשרות השנייה היא ששאלת ‘וכי מפני שאכל תרטימר בשר ושתה חצי לוג יין האיטלקי אביו ואמו מוציאין אותו לסקלו?!’ אינה שאלה מוסרית אלא שאלה אמפירית. לפי הפירוש האמפירי, לא ייתכן שהורים יקשו את לבם ויוציאו את בנם להיסקל בגלל מעשים כאלו, ומתוך כך אפשר להסיק שהפרשה ניתנה ללימוד ולא לעשייה. פירוש זה נסמך על כך ששאלת ‘וכי מפני …’ בנוסחה זאת אינה גורסת: ‘אמרה תורה יוציאוהו בית דין ליסקל’, אלא במקום ‘בית דין’ מופיע הביטוי ‘הוריו’. בדבריו של רבי שמעון אין אפוא בעיה מוסרית אלא קביעה אמפירית – שלא מצויים הורים כאלה שיוציאו את בנם להיסקל. עמדתו של רבי שמעון אינה משקפת אפוא שינוי ערכים אלא שינוי חברתי, ומה שנראה באפשרות מעשית במקרא נהפך לגביו לדבר אשר לא ייעשה…

Halbertal himself concedes that his former interpretation of R. Shimon is quite radical, and indeed, entirely uncompelled by the text, since he admits that there is an alternative reading, which he offers no reason for rejecting, and for which he actually suggests some support from the Gemara’s language. Moreover, he himself notes that Remah understands the Gemara according to this latter ’empirical’ interpretation:
ואיבעית תימא רבי שמעון דסבירא ליה דמילתא דלא שכיחא היא דליתו ליה אבוה ואמיה לבי דינא למרגמניה משום דאכל תרטימר בשר ושתה חצי לוג יין אבל לרבנן אף על גב דאינו נעשה בן סורר ומורה עד שיהו שניהם רוצים קסברי רבנן דלאו מילתא דלאו שכיחא היא דליתו ליה למרגמניה משום דמסקי אדעתייהו מאי סלקא ליה לבסוף: (יד רמה סנהדרין שם ד”ה מתניתין)
Rabbi Eliezer Berkovitz apparently also understands the Gemara similarly to Professors Halbertal and Soloveitchik
… occasionally the ethical conscience of Halakha weakened the very purpose of the law and even declared it completely nonoperative. …

There was the case of the “stubborn and rebellious son” who was a “glutton and a drunkard” and did not listen to the voice of his parents. If his father and mother together agreed that there was no other course for them but to hand him over to “the elders of the city,” then – says the Bible – he should be put to death. “So shalt thou put away the evil from the midst of thee; and all Israel shall hear, and fear”…

One may judge such a law rather cruel. From the beginning it required a justifying explanation. It was said that the “stubborn and rebellious son” was put to death because of his threatening end. …

The regulations attached to the law by the teachers of the Halakha were so numerous and so meticulous that even if one had followed the biblical injunction, in practice the law would have been implemented very seldom. In fact, Rabbi Shimeon, one of the halakhic authorities of the Mishnaic period, declared that a case of the “stubborn and rebellious son” never happened and would never happen. The reason he gave had nothing to do with Halakha. For, “because this son ate meat to the value of a Tartemor [an old Greek coin] and drank half a Log [a large liquid measure] of good Italian wine, his parents would hand him over to be stoned to death!” Such things do not happen. The law may say what it pleases; it has no application in human experience.

Another Mishnaic teacher, Rabbi Y’huda, went even further. He “interpreted” the biblical text in such a manner as to show that if you followed its literal meaning, it would hardly be possible to make any use of this law. …

And now follows the most surprising conclusion of this entire discussion. “If so, why was it written [i.e. why was the law given at all]?” The answer is: “To interpret it [showing that it was not meant to be implemented] and to receive reward [from God] for its study.” As if it had been a test for the intelligence and the conscience of the student and the teacher.

A similar “interpretation” was also placed on another law of the Torah. The Bible decreed that if an entire city is led astray to idol worship by some of its inhabitants, it should be destroyed, including its inhabitants and all of their property. The law was an expression of Judaism’s desperate struggle against polytheism. Faith in the One God was the raison d’etre of Jewish existence. Without monotheism there could be no Jewish people. Yet to destroy an entire city was not an easy matter. Thus we hear that this law was never enacted. “Ir Ha’Nidahat [the destruction of the city led astray] – it never was, nor will it ever be.” How so? The answer is that the Bible says: “And thou shalt gather all the spoil of it into the midst of the broad place thereof and shalt burn with fire the city …” … Therefore, this Mitsva was given “in order to be ‘interpreted’ and to be rewarded” for an interpretation that shows that the law was never meant to be applied. (Not In Heaven, pp. 28 – 31. I am indebted to Michael Makovi for bringing this passage to my attention.).

Rabbi Berkovitz, too, fails to provide any convincing argument for these rather dubious readings of the Gemara (and he, too, conveniently neglects to address the third Halachah about which the Gemara declares לא היה ולא עתיד להיות, the law of Mezora).
Returning to Soloveitchik, I reiterate that it is crucial to remember that the issue at hand is not the modern academic understanding of the Gemara, or even the correct interpretation of the Gemara. [I absolutely refuse to bracket the word ‘correct’ with irony quotes.] The issue is simply how medieval scholars would have naturally, in the absence of a “perception shaped by cultural norms”, understood the Gemara. I have argued that neither Halbertal, nor Soloveitchik, nor Berkovitz have provided any basis, other than their own judgments, for their fairly radical reading of the Gemara in the first place, let alone for Soloveitchik’s assumption that the Rishonim read (or should have read) it that way. Additionally, as I mentioned earlier, Soloveitchik ignores the fact that the positions of R. Yehudah and R. Shimon are not normative (a point not denied by Halbertal).
In summary, it is unacceptable to dismiss out of hand the reasoning of the Rishonim on the basis of speculative and uncompelling interpretations of what are anyway non-normative Talmudic statements.



Jews, Drinking & Kiddush Clubs

The popular press, in this case Newsweek, does not always get Jewish practices correct. Newsweek just published a short piece on Jewish drinking and specifically mention “Kiddush clubs.” While the article makes it appear that this is a new problem, (and to be fair, it seems that is what they were erronously told by those they spoke with), in fact, as is almost always the case, ain hadash tachas ha-shemesh – there is nothing new under the sun. First, the article claims that “Jews don’t drink – much. Historically, Jews have not had alcohol problems to the extent as some other religious groups.” This claim, that Jews don’t drink, echos the erroneous assertions of some non-Jews, especially during the temperance movement of the 19th and early 20th century in the United States. Much of the temperance movement was lead by certain Christians and pointed to Jews or more specifically the Old Testament in suport of banning alcohol. One particularly egregious mistake in doing so was to misinterpret the prohibitions of Passover. That is, the problem that some in the temperance movement were required to deal with is if Jesus drank wine at the Last Supper, then how can wine be bad? To answer this, some pointed to “Jewish” practice. Specifically, they noted that the Last Supper took place on Passover, “and we know that the Jews were scrupulous in using at this ceremony none but unleavened bread and unfermented wine.” Of course, while leavened bread is prohibited there is no related prohibition on fermented wine.[1] Professor Hayim Solovetick has shown that historically Jews were involved in the wine business and drank as much as their non-Jewish neighbors. These facts may have affected certain halachik rulings. This does not mean that Jews must drink alcoholic beverages. Although wine is mandated for numerous rituals, according to most, grape juice suffices. For this point we again turn back to the temperance movement and this time the effect of the 18th Amendment. The 18th Amendment prohibited the consumption of alcohol. However, the National Prohibition Act carved out an exemption that allowed for consumption for “religious rites.” As a consequence, there was a market for fraudulent rabbis and other religious figures that would permit the otherwise prohibited. To counter these scofflaws, R. Levi Ginzburg,[2] penned a responsum arguing that grape juice sufficed to Jewish religious purposes. This responsum remains the most comprehensive discussion of grape juice in Jewish law. Isaac Wise, authored an essay discussing the topic of how Judaism views being a teetotaler. Wise rejects this practice. Wise notes that “Isaiah, upbraiding the weakness of his people says: ‘Thy wine is adulterated with water.’ and the Psalmist sings: ‘And wine gladdens the heart of man.'” Wise continues and highlights the use of “mishteh, ‘a drinking occasion.” Accordingly, Wise explains that since “Moses and the Talmud are not opposed to the use of wine or strong drink. The Jew might consider it superfluous to be more orthodox than Moses, the prophets, or the rabbis of old.” Wise further argues that if the reason for prohibiting drink is due to the harm that may come from overindulging, there is a much more pernicious “evil” that of the amassment of wealth. Wise claims that “the wildest imagination [is] too feeble to depict a mere fraction of the woes and crimes caused by money. It makes rogues of honest men, and villains of generous souls . . . Money makes slaves, hypocrites, gamblers, thieves . . . [it] ruins virtue, beguiles innocences.” Thus, Wise concludes that “the use of wine or strong drink as a beverage is no moral wrong . . . the abuse of religion and prayer is worse than the abuse of liquor, [and] the present crusade [of temperance] will not remedy the evil; it is contrary to law and liberty, and it makes us ridiculous in the eyes of the civilized world.” As was the case with Wise, there can be no doubt that drinking has been a controversial topic for one reason or another. One of the more well-known cases of censorship relates to a ruling on wine. The Rama’s responsum on the consumption of ya’yin nesach was removed in most of the editions of his responsa. This responsum was so unknown that some charged the Rama never authored it and it was a forgery.[3] But we need not go so far afield as ya’yin nesach to find controversy. As is mentioned in the article, there are those who participate in Kiddush clubs and, (as would be expected), there are those who question such gatherings. What no one appears to mention is that the Kiddush club is not a recent invention. Instead, from at least mid-sixteenth century, such gatherings took place. Specifically, R. Moshe Yitzhak M’zia (1530-1600, most of his responsa were authored between 1560-80) in his Yefeh Nof was asked About the custom of the bachurim on Shabbat to leave the synagogue after the Torah is removed from the ark to drink whisky before the mussaf, is this permitted? If they do not sit down for a meal this is permitted because the law does not follow Rav Huna who prohibits tasting prior to mussaf.[4] According to this responsum, groups would leave to drink during the prayers.[5][5] From this responsum we can glean a few important facts about the custom during that period. First, such gatherings probably would not be called Kiddush clubs because they did not make Kiddush at all. Second, R. M’zia does not condemn the practice and expresses no outrage or suggestion that it stop. Instead, it appears so long as it was halachikally ok, R. M’zia was unwilling to challenge this practice.

[1] For more on the topic of unfermented wine (raisin wine) on Passover and its connection with the temperance movement see Jonathan Sarna, “Passover Raisin Wine, The American Temperance Movement, and Mordechai Noah,” HUCA, 59 (1988), 269-88. Additionally, see the fascinating article by Hannah Sprecher, “‘Let Them Drink and Forget Our Poverty’: Orthodox Rabbis React to Prohibition,” American Jewish Archives 43:2 (Fall-Winter, 1991): 134–179. Sprecher discusses the one Orthodox response to Ginzberg. Id. at 158. See, as well, Marni Davis, “‘On the Side of Liquor’: American Jews and the Politics of Alcohol, 1870-1936,” (PhD dissertation, Emory University, 2006), esp. chap. five (“‘A House Divided Against Itself’: American Jews Respond to Prohibition”), 190-250. Finally, see J. David Bleich, Contemporary Halakhic Problems, vol. V, 2005, chap. viii, “The Whiskey Brouhaha,” where he takes issue with the monkier used by a drinking club – the Glatt Cigar Society. Aside from actually drinking, Jews also authored parodies on drinking. One such parody is devoted to prohibition Gerson Kiss, Massekhet Prohibishon (Brooklyn, 1929), a description of which is found in in Sharon Liberman Mintz & Gabriel M. Goldstein, eds., Printing the Talmud: From Bomberg to Schottenstein (New York: Yeshiva University Museum, 2005), 300. And, Y. Friedlander, the possible author of the well-known forgery Yerushalim on Seder Kodshim, also authored a drinking parody. This parody, however, focused on the hassidic custom of drinking for the purposes of tikkun. The parody is titled Sefer ha-Tikkun and is a “Shulhan Orakh” on all the various times and occasions to make a tikkun. See Baruch Oberlander, “Ha-Yerushalmi le-Seder Kodshim vehaMotzei le-Or Shelo,” Or Yisrael 15 (1999), 174-75; see also Boaz Haas, Ke-Zohar ha-Rakiyah, Jerusalem, 2008, 353 n.330 who also discusses the Sefer ha-Tikkun. For other examples of parodies see Eliezer Brodt’s post on the topic here. [2] As an aside, it worth noting that Ginzburg was originally a student of Telz Yeshiva and later in life went on to teach at JTS. However, after Telz relocated to the United States, he helped with the publication of the Teshuvot R. Eliezer from R. Eliezer Gordon, Rosh ha-Yeshiva of Telz. Ginsburg was thanked in the back of this edition in a full page, it appears that in some copies, (perhaps those disturbed to Telz students) Ginzberg’s name was pasted over. Additionally, on the topic of Ginzburg and Telz Yeshiva, Ginzburg authored an excellent five volume work on the Yerushalmi, Pirushim ve-Hiddushim al ha-Yerushalmi. R. Gifter and Ginzberg carried on a correspondence regarding this work which still remains in manuscript – but is facinating in its content.[3] See Y.S. Speigel, Amudim be-Tolodot Sefer ha-Ivri Ketivah ve-haTakah, Ramat Gan, 2005, 273 and the notes therein.[4] This responsum was first published by Assaf in his Mekorot l’Tolodot ha-Hinukh be-Yisrael, (in the original version it appears in vol. 4. no. 39:6, p. 43 and in the latest version, edited by Shmuel Glick, Jerusalem, 2002, it appears in vol. 1. P. 111). R. M’zia’s responsa remained in manuscript until 1986 when Mechon Yerushalim published them. This edition includes a biography of R. M’zia by Professor Eric Zimmer. Additionally, Zimmer authored an article on M’zia. See E. Zimmer, “The book Yefeh Nof of R. Yitzhak M’zia,” Kiryat Sefer 56 (1981), 529-545; E. Zimmer, Gahalaton shel Hakhamim, Jerusalem, 1999, 84-105.[5] This is distinct from the custom of stopping the prayers and everyone, not just the bachurim, going home to eat a snack and then study prior to the start of the Torah reading; this custom is discussed at length by R. Y Goldhaver. See R. Y. Goldhaver, Minhagei ha-Kehilot, Jerusalem, 2005, vol. 1, 200-208. R. Goldhaver’s work includes notes by the prolific and encyclopedic R. Shmuel Ashkenazi. On this topic of taking a break during services, Ashkenazi notes that Goldhaver made a common bibliographic mistake of attributing the Shu”t Hut ha-Meshulush to the author of the Tashbetz, R. Shimon b. Tzemach Duran, because both works were published together. See R. Shmuel Ashkenazi comments id., vol. 2, 316.




All New Posts are at a New Address

All new posts for the Seforim blog appear at the new address www.seforim.traditiononline.org However, you can still access the old post on this site or, all the old posts, including comments, have been moved to the new site and are accessible there.



More on Ma’adane Eretz on Shevi’it

More on Ma’adanei Eretz on Shevi’it

Between the ‘Inner Family Circle‘ and the Published Word

By Yitzchak Jakobovitz

a) In a recent post on the Seforim Blog, Rabbi Chaim Rapoport spoke of the extent to which some disciples of the late Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach have gone in order to disassociate their late mentor from the heter mechirah, a procedure that he defended robustly in his work Ma’adanei Eretz.
To this end, a censored version of the original work was published (bearing the title Kitvei Ma’adanei Eretz), in which Rabbi Auerbach’s endorsement of the heter mechirah as a minhag yisroel Torah hee was eliminated. The new version also eschewed citations of, and expressions of reverence for, the late Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook (one of the primary proponents of the heter mechirah and other controversial positions).
In note 10 of his article Rabbi Rapoport wrote: “In the course of time we may yet witness the birth of reports to the effect that Rabbi Auerbach (and/or: the Rabbis who gave their glowing haskamot) regretted ever having published (written approbations for) his Ma’adanei Eretz. Clearly Rabbi Auerbach’s regret will have to have been expressed ‘be-sof yamav’, since in 1972/5732 he was evidently still enthusiastic about the project”.
Little did Rabbi Rapoport know that his tentative ‘prophecy’ had already been ‘fulfilled.’ A recent publication (dated Elul 5767) entitled Shemittah keMitzvatah, dedicated to a rebuttal of the efficacy of the heter mechirah, documents such a suggestion. This work published anonymously but with an abundance of haskamot (including an approbation from Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv shlit”a), quotes many authorities that expressed their opposition to and disdain for the heter mechirah.
In the preface, chapter 5 (page 19), the anonymous author quotes Rabbi Yitzchak Yerucham Burdiansky, a son-in-law of Rabbi Auerbach, in his eulogy for his revered father-in-law. According to Rabbi Burdiansky, Rabbi Auerbach would say to his family: “You can tell the Rabbis that it (the heter mechirah) is worth absolutely nothing. It is a mere mockery!” [1]
The author does not tell us how Rabbi Auerbach’s statements in the inner circle of his family may be reconciled with his own published Ma’adanei Eretz.[2] Indeed, Ma’adanei Eretz is not even mentioned! One may therefore readily assume that Rabbi Auerbach’s (alleged) change of mind occurred ‘be-sof yamav (as Rabbi Rapoport had predicted!); in time enough to express this to his family, but too late in the day to publish his revised opinion! Consequently, Rabbi Auerbach’s (alleged) ridicule of the heter mechirah was evidently first publicised posthumously, at a hesped.

The Uncensored Edition is Back in Print

b) In the interim a new, uncensored edition, of the Ma’adanei Eretz has been published by “Beit Medrash Halachah, Moriah, Jerusalem 5768.” This edition is an exact replica of the original Ma’adanei Eretz as the publishers inform us on the back of the title page:
נדפס מחדש בשנת תשס”ח
שנת השמיטה במתכונתו הקודמת
כפי שנערך ע”י מורנו המחבר זצ”ל
ובהוראתו, במהדורת תשל”ב
בית מדרש הלכה
“מוריה”
This uncensored edition has evidently received the financial backing of a generous and zealous English philanthropist (who was disturbed by the attempt to rob the Olam haTorah of part of Rabbi Auerbach’s heritage). The same page continues:
מהדורא זו יוצאת לאור
בסיוע “קרן רחל”, לונדון
לזכרו של מרן המחבר זצ”ל
להגדיל תורה ולהאדירה
Students who wish to study the Ma’adanei Eretz as authored and published by Rabbi Auerbach himself can now do so without recourse to a library or rare bookshop that still has a copy of the original edition.
On the other hand, students who want to study a censored version of the work, albeit bearing exactly the same title as the original, can also do so with ease. For since the publication of Kitvei Ma’adanei Eretz (and Rabbi Rapoport’s post thereon) a ‘Friedman edition’ of Ma’adanei Eretz has been released (with the blessings of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman’s family). This version bears greater similarity to the original work, both in external format and internal structure, but it is still heavily censored and spares the reader from having to confront the truth!
[1] בספר ‘שמיטה כמצותה – בענין מכירת קרקע לגוי להפקיע דיני שביעית בימינו’, עמוד יט (ההערות בשולי הגליון נכללו בחצאי ריבוע): “הרב יצחק ירוחם בורדיאנסקי שליט”א חתן הגרש”ז אויערבאך זצ”ל [רחוב ויסבורג 4 ירושלים] מעיד שחותנו דיבר בחוג המשפחה אודות ההיתר מכירה (פירסמו בהספד שהספיד חותנו), וז”ל, איר קענט זאגן די רבנים אז ס’איז גארנישט מיט גארנישט, ס’איז א ליצנות (ועשה בידו תנועה של ביטול) – אתם יכולים להגיד לרבנים שזה לא כלום, זו ליצנות – כי אין להם דעת למכור ולא מתכוונים למכור, וכן הרב אביגדור נבנצאל שליט”א מעיד בשמו של הגרש”ז אויערבאך זצ”ל, שאפילו לתלמיד ‘מרכז הרב’ לא התיר לאכול ירקות מ’היתר מכירה’ משום איסור ספיחין, ואין זה סותר למה שאומר הרב בקשי דורון שאמר לו הגרשז”א זצ”ל בנוגע לההיתר מכירה ‘שהרי יש מאירי’, משום שאם יש אחד מיני אלף שיש לו גמירות דעת אין כאן הפסד במכירה לפי המאירי אלא רק ריווח, אבל עכשיו שנתברר שכל דברי המאירי לא נכתבו אלא מפני אימת המלכות [כמו שביארנו בשער א’ פרק ז], בודאי אסור לסדר מכירה”
[2] Rabbi Auerbach’s remarks in his Minchat Shlomo 1:44-45 also imply that he did not consider the heter mechirah to be a total mockery.



Meir Hildesheimer – Historical Perspectives on Rabbi Samson Rapha

On the recent occasion of the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888), Dr. Meir Hildesheimer of The Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch Cathedra for the Research of the Torah im Derekh Eretz Movement (Bar-Ilan University), delivered a paper entitled “Historical Perspectives on Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch,” at the Jüdisches Museum in Frankfurt (7 June 2008). The remarks below appear with the express permission of Dr. Hildesheimer.

Historical Perspectives on Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch

by Meir Hildesheimer
1. Introduction
200 years ago, on June 20th, 1808 Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch was born. And this year, 2008 – is also the 120th anniversary of Rabbi Hirsch’s death; he died on December 31st, 1888. Rabbi Hirsch was an outstanding personality who is known as one of the founders of Neo-orthodoxy and the Torah Im Derekh Eretz philosophy. In orthodox Jewish circles he is remembered above all as an intrepid fighter against Reform Judaism and as an exemplary educator. And theologians, Jewish and Christian, appreciate his creative Bible commentary.
In my lecture I want to deal neither with Rabbi Hirsch’s philosophy nor with his exegesis of the Holy Schriptures, as these issues are well known and much has been written about them. I want to concentrate on his deeds and achievements form a historical point of view and to shed light on some aspects of his multi-faceted personality.
2. Biographical sketch
Let’s start with a brief biographical sketch. Rabbi Hirsch was born on June 20, 1808 (27th Sivan 5568) in Hamburg as first child of Raphael and Gella Hirsch.[1] His parents named him Samson. Later he used to join his father’s name to his own (“Samson Raphael Hirsch”), thus following a widespread custom of the period. Samson Raphael Hirsch had a close relationship with his parents whom he described as “the guardians of his childhood, the guides of his youth, and the companions of his mature years.”[2] His grandfather, Mendel Frankfurter, a great Talmudic scholar and serving as Rosh Beit Din of Altona, had a profound influence on his grandson, as had the charismatic Rabbi (Chacham) Isaac Bernays (1792-1849) who was appointed Rabbi of Hamburg when young Samson reached Bar-Mitzva age, and Rabbi Yaakov Ettlinger (1798-1871) whose Yeshiva in Mannheim Rabbi Hirsch attended. Conscious of the new legal requirements from rabbis, the latter advised him to study at an university. Rabbi Hirsch went to the Univertsity of Bonn where he befriended the slightly younger Abraham Geiger, leaving after studying for a year without earning a degree. Consecutively Hirsch served as rabbi of Oldenburg (1830-1841), Emden (1841-1847) and as Landesrabbiner of Moravia (1847-1851) before he accepted the call of a tiny religious association in Frankfurt called “Israelitische Religionsgesellschaft”. From 1851 until his death in 1888 he resided in Frankfurt.
3. Personality
Rabbi Hirsch was a puzzle for his contemporaries and has remained so for later scholars seeking to unravel the complex components of his personality. Various people described Hirsch as extremely introverted, some of them even as “remoted” and “cold”. His disciple in the Nikolsburg yeshiva Armin Schnitzer (later rabbi of Komorn), for example, wrote in his memoirs: “His demeanor was serious and introverted. He was not talkative.” Rabbi Hirsch’s following self-portrait, which he wrote as a young man, shows clearly that he was conscious to that perception:
“So it always goes with me when my inner soul is too full. Then it does not spill over the sides as is common in other people – no, inside there can be stormy, turbulent waves but on the outside, with pressures and counterpressures – only silence. I am like a clock whose inner components interact with each other constantly but whose hands are missing, so that on the outside it appears completely still. Superficial people hold a feather to the nose and proclaim it lifeless, but those whose comprehension is deeper sense from the ticking that there is indeed life inside. A wise man knows to attach the missing hands to the face, so that he can read the time …”.[3]
In the eyes of his fellow people – except those of his family and intimate friends who praised his warm and symphatetic heart – he looked not only cold and distant, but also very self-confident. Rabbi Hirsch’s tone was rarely conciliatory, whatever his intentions. He used to express himself in such confident terms that made him appear arrogant. His strong commitment to rabbinic Judaism turned him into an active polemicist in the Orthodox camp.
4. Fighter against Reform
Rabbi Hirsch’s father had been a merchant. He intended his firstborn son to go into his footsteps. But when growing up, Samson chose for himself another profession – that of a rabbi. According to his own words, the religious controversies waged in his native town Hamburg were of primary importance in the shaping of his career.
At the end of 1817, when Samson Raphael Hirsch was nine years old, a substantial group of Jews in his native town Hamburg joined together to offer an alternative public expression of Judaism and established the “New Israelite Temple Association in Hamburg” and in 1818 erected a house of prayer which they named “Temple”. The “Temple” was the first Jewish house of worship in German to use an organ on the Sabbath and a mixed choir in the services. The Temple Association also published a new prayerbook, in which many prayers were in German, and various sections added and deleted at will. The Hamburg rabbinate as well as some of the leading rabbinic personalities issued a prohibition against praying in the Temple or using its prayerbook. The Hirsch home was the venue of meetings and strategy sessions called to combat the threat posed to Torah Judaism by the Temple. Young Samson was apparently deeply affected by the gatherings in his parents’ home, and in his later years recalled that it was this struggle which first gave him the impetus to pursue his calling in life.
Rabbi Hirsch’s first writings, The Nineteen Letters and Horeb already represented the beginning of his active struggle against the Reformers. At this early stage, Hirsch tried to address the reformers and young people attracted by reform in conciliatory terms, offering a positive alternative to the Reformer’s approach. The rebuff he received from the Reformers drove Rabbi Hirsch on to more open opposition. His literary energy in the years immediately following was mostly spent as an active polemicist in the Orthodox camp and emerged gradually its most uncompromising and militant defender.
5. Secession
Rabbi Hirsch’s uncompromising stance toward Reform was also the reason for his struggle for the secession of his small orthodox community in Frankfurt called Israelitische Religionsgesellschaft from the main Jewish community.
Neither in Oldenburg and Emden nor in Moravia did Rabbi Hirsch propagate a schism in the Jewish community. On the contrary, when leaving Nikolsburg, he admonished the Jews of Moravia in his farewell letter to stay united. On the other side, he left the Moravian Landesrabbinat because he had received an “appeal from Frankfurt to go to the aid of a tiny group, whose very founding is, in my view, given the goals I had all my life, the most promising development that has occurred in Jewry within the last several decades. For now, for the first time, a Jewish community has been formed, which is openly and proudly dedicated to a most holy principle, in an area which has been successfully conquered by the faces of confusion (i. e. Reform). What can I do! This holy cause is the very one to which I have consecrated my life.”
The reason for his different behavior in different places is obvious: in places where Reform gains influence over the Jewish community and its rites, a God fearing Jew must strive to disassociate himself from these “wicked people” and erect his own, Torah true community; in places not endangered by religious innovators taking over Jews should stay united. For the same reason Rabbi Hirsch sided the secession from orthodox Jewry in Hungary in 1868, when the newly constituted Jewish congress was dominated by reformers.
When the Prussian government in 1875 passed a law that enabled the erection of additional Jewish communities at a certain place (called the Austrittsgesetz), and the Israelitische Religionsgesellschaft (IRG) was entitled to form an independent community. The Jewish community of Frankfurt, then dominated by the reformers, did not want a significant number of their members, i. e. taxpayers, leaving, especially not the richer ones like Baron Willy Rothschild who was associated with the Religionsgesellschaft. So the community agreed to provide for all the needs of its orthodox members – a thing it did not do in the past – and exempting them from funding the religious activities of the reformers. A disagreement arouse among the IRG members about accepting this generous offer or to secede and form an independent community. The rabbi of the IRG, Rabbi Hirsch, propagated the last option; he even issued an halachic statement that obliged the members to secede. But a significant number of them did not consent and succeeded in getting the halachic support of one of the most prominent orthodox rabbis in Germany at this time, Rabbi Seligmann Bär Bamberger of Würzburg. Rabbi Bamberger’s involvement lead to a sharp literary argument between the two rabbis, resulting in lasting mutual bitterness and a severe blow for Rabbi Hirsch personally: most of the IRG members did not leave the old community.
What motivated Rabbi Hirsch’s fierce struggle for secession? In Rabbi Hirsch’s opinion Israel is a nation and became a nation only through and for the Torah. Every Jewish community is a microcosm of the people as a whole, and just as Torah is the sole unifying force of the Jewish people, so must it also be the bond which unites each community. Every Jewish individual is not only required to take an active role in the community, but only by being part of a community can the individual fulfill his role as a Jew and find his true meaning and purpose in life. The community exists for the sake of the Torah. A community that does not act according to the Torah forfeits its right to exist. Naturally, it is forbidden to be a part of such community.
At the same time, Rabbi Hirsch felt there was no halachic imperative for Jewish communities to join together in a wider framework. It is not clear whether his later activities for uniting orthodox Judaism in an organization called Freie Vereinigung für die Interessen des orthodoxen Judentums (Orthodox Union) reflexes a change in his beliefs or were only for practical reasons.
6. The orator and writer
Rabbi Hirsch used two main means for disseminating his ideas: the spoken and the written word. Once he said of himself: “All my life I have engaged in thinking more than in speaking, and in speaking more than in writing.”[4] But in truth his abilities in all these fields were really masterful. As an orator of rare talent he was seemingly influenced by his rabbi and teacher Isaac Bernays who was one of the most famous Jewish preachers of his time – that means, in the German language. Once asked by his uncle, why he preferred delivering his sermons in German and not in Hebrew, he replied that law in East Friesland required him and the other rabbis to preach in the vernacular, and furthermore the Jewish masses were not proficient in the Holy language. In order to reach them one would have to speak their tongue. His first experience as an orator he had as a student at the University of Bonn, where he and Abraham Geiger established an “association for the cultivation of speech”, intended for future rabbis in order to train them to deliver popular sermons.
Besides of speaking in German, a number of additional factors contributed to the profound impression Hirsch made on his audience: the carefully chosen expressions, the fast tempo, originality of thought and cogency of argument. He spoke without a text, occasionally keeping a small Bible in front of him. In his early years he would commit his speeches to writing before he delivered them. By the way, he spoke only in public settings, never at festive meals and private celebrations. His gifts as a speaker do much explain the great influence he had on his contemporaries.[5] In Frankfurt, Rabbi Hirsch’s weekly Sabbath addresses was the bond which unified the members of the IRG and left his listeners inspired to put the ideals of the Torah into practice. A visitor to his synagogue commented: “I do not understand one word that was said, but one had the impression that nothing less than the prophet Isaiah was standing up there.”
Yet the influence of his writings were even greater for they reached a much greater audience and had also a significant impact on future generations until this very day. Rabbi Hirsch’s gifted pen produced a rich and varied output: Halacha, commentaries on the Pentateuch, the Psalms and the Jewish prayer book, articles on philosophy, Jewish weltanschauung and education, polemics, letters and responses. All his writings, including his letters and halachic responses, were stamped with his unique style and characterized by a warmth of feeling and a sense of closeness to God. His skill at capturing the sanctity and sublime beauty of Jewish life remains unparalleled. His style is characterized by long sentences quite typical for this period. It shows his perfect command of German language and literature. Rabbi Hirsch employed his mastery of German prose and modern literary techniques in the cause of classic Judaism. In these times the literary sophistication of this Orthodox rabbi took everyone by surprise. (His Hebrew writings – mostly responses – are written in a very special style too.)
His writings had a particular influence on the younger generation, and continued to affect German Jewry in the decades after his passing. His commentary on the Pentateuch, for example, were found in every home of religious Jews in Germany.
7. Rabbi Hirsch’s attitude to German culture
Rabbi Hirsch’s attitude toward German was not the same as that of the other traditionalists of his time who were conversant in that language. To the latter, it was a language they knew and employed, but nevertheless a non-Jewish language. Rabbi Hirsch, on the other hand, had a deep emotional feeling for German and a strong attachment to German culture that also went far beyond the modest requirements set down by the conservative Maskilim who advocated practical subjects as necessitated by social and economic considerations. Rabbi Hirsch had been educated in a gymnasium focusing on humanistic studies. Influenced by the atmosphere in his family who encouraged secular studies, he appreciated the humanistic spirit which permeated the German cultural climate as well as the aesthetics. In the first of the Nineteen Letters, Rabbi Hirsch makes his imaginary protagonist remark: “How can anyone who is able to enjoy the beauties of a Virgil, a Tasso, a Shakespeare, who can follow the logical conclusions of a Leibnitz and Kant–how can such a one find pleasure in the Old Testament, so deficient in form and taste, and in the senseless writings of the Talmud?” Before Rabbi Hirsch, no Orthodox Jew had ever expressed such sentiments, even as a prelude to their rebuttal.
Rabbi Hirsch was especially influenced by Hegel and Schiller. In a speech given in his school he founded on the centenary of the birth of the latter, he claimed that the universal principles of Western culture embodied in Schiller’s writings are Jewish values originating in the Torah.
Despite Rabbi Hirsch’s liberalism in matters of culture and education, he was critical of literature that he considered offensive from a religious or moral standpoint. Thus, while reading “Der Salon” by Heine, he grew so highly incensed by its blasphemous expressions that he wanted to burn the book and compensate the library for its destruction. Nevertheless, the fact that “Der Salon” was written by apostate did not prevent Rabbi Hirsch from reading it.
8. Torah Im Derekh Eretz
But with all his love for German language and culture, Rabbi Hirsch was well aware of the danger of scientific knowledge leading one away from religion. He, therefore, strongly opposed the tendency to simply put Torah and Derekh Eretz side by side for this would implement that both are of equal value. According to Rabbi Hirsch, however, there is a higher and a lower sphere: The Torah is the essential, the standard by which all education is measured, while secular knowledge is secondary or supplementary to Torah. Or in Rabbi Hirsch’s own words: “We are confident that there is only one truth, and only one body of knowledge that can serve as the standard… Compared to it, all the other sciences are valid only provisionally”.[6]
The totality of Rabbi Hirsch’s thinking and teaching has always been regarded as comprehended in the single phrase, Torah im Derekh Eretz. What does it stand for?
The concept of Torah im Derekh Eretz – universal and timeless – in the doctrine of Rabbi Hirsch has been defined as a synthesis of Judaism and modern culture, embracing art and literature to the extent compatible with Halakha (i.e. religious Jewish law). However, this synthesis is to be understood in a Hegelian sense: two contradictory forces contending with each other are reconciled and renewed on a higher level. In other words: Torah and life, Judaism and culture, do not just complement each other, but achieve complete identity. In his old age, Rabbi Hirsch devoted most of his teaching activity in his school to a subject which he called “The Spirit of the Jewish Theory of Laws”. In those lessons he strove to implant in the hearts of his students a love of Torah and to inspire them with the consciousness of Torah im Derekh Eretz as the unifying principle of all the religious commandments, molding them into a uniform context of a harmonious Weltanschauung and life-pattern.
9. Political attitudes and activities: the struggle for emancipation
On December 10, 1810 Hamburg, Samson Raphael Hirsch’s native town, was annexed by revolutionary France. In 1814 the French were thrown out of the city, but the revolutionary vision of liberty, equality and fraternity remained part of the city’s intellectual fabric. Gabriel Riesser, the famous Jewish lawyer and politician, was one of the leading advocates of Jewish emancipation and very much admired by Jewish youths. Rabbi Hirsch was also deeply impressed, despite Riesser’s decidedly non-religious attitude.
As other rabbis, Rabbi Hirsch, too, recognized the enormous spiritual threat posed by Emancipation. Nonetheless, he viewed it as both a challenge and an opportunity to demonstrate that the Torah is no less applicable to the new open society than it was in the Ghetto – but of course only on condition that the Jewish people would still be bound to the Torah’s laws.
In his Moravian time, Rabbi Hirsch had a first-hand experience of the negative side effects that came together with emancipation:
a. religious indifference;
b. the loosening of the bond between the individual Jew with the community which was expressed by refraining from paying community taxes – an act that brought the Jewish communities on the brink of bankruptcy; and
c. a substantial increase in anti-Semitism.
Seemingly this was the reason that from the time he went to Frankfurt, he did not engage in any more public advocacy to advance the cause of civil equality for Jews. In reevaluating the battle for equal rights, he wondered whether the all-out drive for emancipation at any price had not been grounds for the further deepening of the exile, and if it had not engendered renewed persecution and increased restrictions on Jews.[7]
10. Jewish Nationalism and the Colonization of Eretz Israel
Heaving heard about Rabbi Hirsch’s attitude towards emancipation as well as about his embrace of contemporary German culture, we now want to deal with his attitude towards Jewish nationalism and the colonization of Eretz Israel.
Rabbi Hirsch’s opinion is probably expressed best in his reply to Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Kalischer’s attempts to persuade him to support his activities concerning the colonization of Eretz Israel. Rabbi Kalischer of Thorn, was a forerunner of Jewish nationalism and the settlement of Eretz Israel. His philosophy connects Jewish nationalism, philanthropic activities and the strive for ultimate redemption. In his book Derishat Ziyyon, he explained his idea of the return to Erez Israel and stated his theory that redemption would come in two stages: the natural one through return to Erez Israel and working on the land, and the supernatural one which would follow. Furthermore, he preached that the first stage should involve a healthy economic foundation for the yishuv, a foundation which could only come about through the development of agriculture on a large scale. Accordingly, he recommended the establishment of an agricultural school for the younger generation.
In his reply, Rabbi Hirsch presented a clear and concise statement of his position concerning settlement of Eretz Israel as a goal in itself in the present era. In his opinion, according to the Sages of the Mishna and the Talmud, Jew’s obligation is only to be devout with all the strength he is granted, and to look forward to the redemption each day. Israel possessed land and statehood only as instruments for translating the Torah into living reality; neither is it a goal in itself, nor is it instrumental in bringing the redemption. Furthermore, Jewish statesmen like Disraeli and Cremieux cannot be viewed as harbingers of redemption, for it is impossible to imagine that G-d would choose people who reject the Torah as his agents. Finally, Rabbi Hirsch agreed that is was important to support those Jews who currently lived in Eretz Israel – he himself supported efforts to improve their conditions! – but he expressed concern that mass settlement activity would bring in its wake increased risk of Sabbath desecration and the transgression of the agricultural commandments unique to Eretz Israel. And when Rabbi Kalischer’s attempts to persuade him did not cease, Rabbi Hirsch wrote: “In my lowly opinion, there will not emerge from this any benefit for put Torah and Jewish tradition, and it is not fitting for God-fearing people to associate with the Alliance Israelite Universelle, whose leaders lack all commitment to Torah and to God’s coventant.” And in his letter to Rabbi Lipschitz, the secretary of Rabbi Yitchak Elchanan Spector of Kovno, he wrote that all the effords to bring the redemption in this way is a grave sin. Here again we have Rabbi Hirsch’s resentment from cooperation with non-orthodox Jews!
And now, let us see if – and how – Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch’s legacy, 120 years after his death, is still relevant. In order to do this we have to relate to Jacob Katz’s essay “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch – ha-meymin veha-masme’il” (turning to the right and the to the left) published in 1987. Katz wrote that Rabbi Hirsch took a decisive right, i.e. conservative, position in issues concerning Judaism and its beliefs (see his fight against Reform), but may be called “left” concerning culture, science and the attitude towards modern society. As nobody after him succeeded to unite these juxtapposite positions, this apparent rift in Hirsch’s philosophy led to a selected adoption of his by different group of peoples.
The “right” components were readily adopted by ever growing parts of ultra-orthodox society, that means an uncompromizing struggle against everything that seemed a deviation from traditional Judaism as well as the abhorrence of a cooperation with non-orthodox people or groups, even if the goals are common. These circles will cite from Hirsch’s writings the passages useful for their purposes, but ignore other passages speaking, for example, of the need to learn a trade or gain seculat knowledge. It also seems that the ideological opposition to Zionism of Orthodoxy has its roots in Rabbi Hirsch’s philosophy (see above), that means many years before the the Munkatcher and the Satmarer Rebbes.
Other orthodox circles, especially Modern Orthodoxy, embraced Rabbi Hirsch’s openness to secular culture and science, combining “Torah” (i.e. rabbinic studies) with “Derekh Eretz”. But unlike their ultra-orthodox counterparts, they do not refrain from cooperating with non-religious Jews. This is especially right of Religious Zionism which is also – as its name inplies – Zionist.
Rabbi Hirsch stood in the focus of the dramatic intellectual and spiritual transformations that characterized German Jewry in the 19th century. His personality as well as his many-sided and varied activities on the fields of Bible exegesis, philosophy and leadership shaped the face of Neo-orthodoxy to a very high degree and their influence was felt not only in his own generation but also later on until to this very day.
Selected Bibliography:
Breuer, Mordechai, The “Torah-Im-Derekh-Eretz” of Samson Raphael Hirsch, Jerusalem-New York: Feldheim Publishers, 1970.
Klugman, Eliyahu Meir, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, Architect of Torah Judaism for the Modern World, New York: Mesorah Publications, 1996.
Liberles, Robert, Religious Conflict in Social Context, Westport (Connecticut)-London: Greenwood Press, 1985.
Rosenbloom, Noah H., Tradition in an Age of Reform, Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1976.
[1] Rabbi Hirsch’s genealogy was researched by Eduard Duckesz and published in: Jahrbuch der Jüdisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft (also printed seperately).
[2] Dedication to Horeb (Altona 1836).
[3] Transcript (free rendition) by E.M. Klugman in the possession of the late Prof. Mordechai Breuer.
[4] Nineteen Letters, Letter 19.
[5] For example: Armin Schnitzer from his time in Nikolsburg as cited in English in Klugman, p. 324.
[6] Commentary to Leviticus 18, 4-5
[7] See Collected Writings II, p. 26.