1

At a Holiday Celebration with the Lubavitchers by Elie Wiesel (1963)

At a Holiday Celebration with the Lubavitchers [on Yud Tes Kislev]

By Eliezer Wiesel

The Forverts (13 December 1963) [Yiddish]

[Translated to English by Shaul Seidler-Feller (2017)]

The “Holiday of Salvation” among the Lubavitchers. – We travel to Brooklyn the way they used to travel to see the rebbe. – The holiday of Yud Tes Kislev. – Why I like to attend when the Lubavitchers host a farbrengen. – Guests from Israel. – The miracle of joy.

By Eliezer Wiesel

Someone remembered: it is Yud Tes Kislev. So, who wants to visit the Lubavitchers? Everyone. Everyone wants to go. Just because? [No,] it is the Holiday of Salvation. The first rebbe, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Lyady, the Ba‘al ha-Tanya, was released from a tsarist prison on the nineteenth day of Kislev. The joy [of that moment] has remained in its entirety, being passed on from generation to generation, from heart to heart, from word to word. Who says that only sorrow must be bequeathed as an inheritance? Hasidim do not believe in such an inheritance. Hasidim move heaven and earth to stay happy. The Imminent Presence of God is driven away by sadness.

Ten people were gathered in the room, both locals and visitors from the State of Israel: Aryeh Disenchik, editor-in-chief of the Tel Aviv-based evening newspaper Maariv; Aharon Kidan, one of Prime Minister Levi Eshkol’s closest assistants; Yehuda Hellman, secretary of the Conference of Presidents; the Israeli author Zvi Kolitz (one of the producers of the anti-Pius play The Deputy); and Isaac Moyal, representative of Keren Hayesod.

We were speaking, as usual, about politics and acquaintances: where so-and-so is and what became of so-and-so. Also: what will be the nature of the relationship between the Johnson Administration and Israel? Or: has Levi Eshkol yet freed himself entirely of the famous shepherd in Sde Boker?

Close to midnight, someone remarked: it is Yud Tes Kislev. The effect was instantaneous. The heated discussions were cut short. No one spoke for a full minute. Presumably everyone was remembering his own Holiday of Salvation, his own personal thirst for redemption.

Who wants to visit the Lubavitchers?

Everyone. Almost without exception. Just like once upon a time in Hungary or Poland: they would travel to the rebbe to liberate themselves from the mundane; to forget their gray, daily concerns; to immerse themselves in Hasidic rapture and Hasidic song, if not in Hasidic faith.

I enjoy Lubavitcher celebrations. I enjoy watching Jews rejoicing and tearing themselves away from the earth, as if it had no control over them, as if their enemies had lost their power, if not forever, then at least for now, on this night of remembrance and thanksgiving.

The rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, sits up front and toasts “l’chaim!” before the hundreds of Hasidim and yeshivah students, who sway while singing and close their eyes while listening to his homily.

I first attended such a farbrengen four years ago – and whoever comes once must return.

Jews have so many reasons to mourn and to allow themselves to sink into melancholy. So when I see a congregation building the palace of song, I feel like reciting a blessing: she-heheyyanu.

Since the War, I have felt that we will never again be able to sing and forget. The Holy Temple was destroyed more than once in sinful Europe, and Tish‘ah be-Av, I thought, would fall more than once a year.

Never again will yeshivah students clap their hands to the rhythm of a melody; never again will their faces flare up under the radiant, calm gaze of their rebbe – so I thought both during and after the War. The world will remain a cemetery, without Kohanim and without Levites.

That is why I come to the Lubavitchers. Their jubilation attracts me. Since the Holocaust, every bit of joy is – a miracle, even greater than the release of the rabbi from Lyady.

Isaac Babel writes in one of his novels that he once had the opportunity to meet the Chernobyler Rebbe of that time. Involuntarily, a cry of pain escaped the Soviet Jewish writer’s heart: “Rebbe! Bless me! Give me rapture!”

That same cry of pain or prayer of pain rages within all of us. Most of us unfortunately have no one to cry to, to pray to, and we live in a desolate world. Our life force thirsts for a sip of water – but everything around us is dry, silent. There is no strength to sing, no reason to sing. The past went up in flames, the future is shrouded in heavy clouds. Not long ago, a friend of mine confided in me that he had just gotten married, but he has not yet decided if he can bring children into the world, whether he has the right to do so. Because – what can he offer his children? Just dangers and memories, both of them exceedingly dreadful.

That is why I enjoy going to the Lubavitchers, even though I am a Vizhnitser, not a Lubavitcher, Hasid.

Among them – one wishes to say: among us – they know how to banish doubt and melancholy. They know the secret of joy and rapture. The world will always remain the world, man will always remain man: if you have a difficult question, open the Tanya and learn a chapter; or: raise your cup and have the rebbe toast you “l’chaim!” – and your soul will feel relieved.

The rebbe says his Torah, the crowd sings. A bridge connects Torah and song, and on it Hasid and rebbe meet, one drawing his strength from the other.

Dozens of paper cups are lifted into the air, all of them directed toward the rebbe; no one will drink without his “l’chaim!” signal.

Here, inside, everything is clear. Without confusion. There is a path, and the rebbe knows where it leads. Liberation is a miracle that is renewed every day. Every one of us has something from which to free himself and an enemy to conquer.

Outside, that path becomes a forest where shadows stray, searching for light in others’ windows.

I cast a glance at my friends who have come from both near and far to this holiday celebration. The scene before their eyes has captivated and enchanted them. When someone leads them up to the rebbe, they are the happiest people in the world. One after the other, they shake his hand and ask for his blessing. Yud Tes Kislev will become a date in their lives, too.

On our way out, someone remarked: I had no idea that despite the fact that I am not a Hasid I would not feel like a stranger among them. That is the miracle.

Somewhere in the east, on the edge of the horizon, a ray of light has brought the promise of a new beginning.




New Book Announcement – נשמת הבית

New Book Announcement
נשמת הבית, שאלות שנשאלו ליועצות ההלכה של מדרשת נשמת בנושאי היריון, לידה, הנקה ואמצעי מניעה בליווי הדרכה מעשית והסברים ונספחים רפואיים, 367 עמודים
Nishmat Habayit is a collection of 63 she’elot uteshuvot on Pregnancy, Birth, Nursing, and Contraceptives. Each question has a short answer, as a yoetzet halacha would addresses the woman with the question, followed by a more extensive halachic discussion. The questions were selected from among tens of thousands in Nishmat’s Taharat Hamishpacha database. The responses were authored by a team of yoatzot halacha, under the supervision of Rabbi Yehuda Henkin and Rabbi Yaakov Varhaftig; and edited by Rabbi Yehuda and Chana Henkin. The book includes medical appendices, helpful even to poskim. The responses display sensitivity to women, coupled with complete faithfulness to halacha. The book carries haskamot of recognized poskim in Israel. The book was published by Maggid Press and is available here. Sample chapters are available upon request [Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com ]
Here is the title page, table of contents, and haskamot.




Ancient Jewish Poetry & the Amazing World of Piyut: Interview with Professor Shulamit Elizur

ANCIENT JEWISH POETRY & THE AMAZING WORLD OF PIYUT: Professor Shulamit Elizur explores the Cairo Genizah and other obscure places for hidden gems


BY BATSHEVA SASSOON


Just as the mountains surround Jerusalem, so G-d surrounds his people, from now to all eternity —Tehillim 125:2

This piece originally appeared in14 TISHREI 5778 // OCTOBER 4, 2017 // AMI MAGAZINE #337
Thanks to Ami for permission to publish this here.This version is updated with a few corrections and additions


Inside the Old City of Jerusalem one cannot see the mountains that surround it, only its many confining walls. Yet even for someone who has a phobia of confined places, as I do, this part of the Holy City is liberating. Many years ago, the great Jewish poet Rabbi Yehudah Halevi wrote longingly about Jerusalem, “I wish I could fly to you on the wings of an eagle, and mingle my tears with your dust.” Today, one can readily fly to Jerusalem, but to have a chance to explore its poetic and emotional underpinnings is a rare treat.


Professor Shulamit Elizur, whom I am visiting this morning in her book lined apartment, is not only one of the foremost experts in the world on piyut but she is also a talmidah chachamah and scholar, whose fear of sin precedes her wisdom.


“I was around 16 years old when I realized that if you want to learn something, it isn’t wise to try to absorb too much at one time,” she shares with me without a hint of pretension. “I decided to study the Mishneh Torah of the Rambam, so I learned one perek a day until I got to the end. I did the same thing with Nach, learning two perakim a day, and I’ve gone through the entire Shishah Sidrei Mishnah numerous times. The same applies to piyutim: If you divide them up and study them over time, you will eventually succeed in understanding all of them.”


She then asks me not to mention some of her other scholarly undertakings so that she doesn’t come across as if she were bragging. And she’s not; she is simply a brilliant scholar who loves to learn every spare minute, and the world has been tremendously enriched by that. As the head of the Fleischer Institute for the Study of Hebrew Poetry, a member of the Academy of the Hebrew Language and a member of the editorial board of the Mekitze Nirdamim publishing house, she has her hands full. But she still finds time to write books and study, as well as to talk to me this morning about her ongoing research. Indeed, her energy is laudable as she keeps on getting up to fetch one book after the other to prove a point.


GENIZAH


Anyone who is familiar with contemporary Israeli culture knows that there has been a revival of the singing of piyut. Jewish liturgical poems that were composed to be recited during tefillah are now being performed by Israel’s top singers in clubs and at concerts. But Shulamit Elizur insists that what she does has nothing to do with this trend.


“The modern performers are mainly interested in the piyutim that have tunes, and those that are printed in our siddurim. But I’m involved in doing research into the piyutim that were lost and haven’t been said in many years. My field is kitvei yad, primarily those that were found in the Cairo Genizah.”


I ask her if after all these years it’s still possible to find new things.


“We have an organization that takes all the fragments and deciphers them. For example, I found a fragment of a page and then much later I found another piece of the same page. It turns out that the page is part of a sefer written by Rabbeinu Saadyah Gaon against the Kara’im. We don’t have the entire book, but the two pieces I was able to put together are from a previously unknown part of that sefer, which was very exciting for me.”


“So it’s all about putting pieces together,” I state.


“Yes, although we do sometimes find complete pages as well. For example, I discovered a piyut for Tefillat Geshem on Shemini Atzeret that isn’t found in our siddurim and predates the great paytan Rabbi Elazar Hakalir, who lived in Eretz Yisrael close to the Muslim conquest. It is very unique and I published it in one of my articles.


“When we go through the Genizah, we examine each piece individually to try to understand what it is. We have a catalogue with over 160,000 entries. That doesn’t mean that there are that many piyutim, because if we find the same piyut five times it gets five separate entries. But there are tens of thousands of them, most of which are unknown, and we are constantly finding more. The next step is to upload them onto a website to make them accessible to the public, but right now we don’t have the funds to complete the project.


“We still have a few years of research left, because even though we’ve gone through every fragment found in the Genizah that was known to be a piyut, there are still many more that weren’t known to be parts of piyutim. In Cambridge, the Genizah was organized according to category: There are contracts, letters, parts of Tanach, Talmud and piyutim. My teacher, Ezra Fleischer, began the work of examining all the other categories for fragments that were previously unrecognized as piyutim, and the work is not yet finished. For example, when a contract was no longer needed, the other side of it could then be used to write piyutim, but it was still categorized as a contract. So we still need to find all of those fragments of lost piyutim and piece them together.”


“How many fragments are in the Genizah?”


“Tens of thousands, and sometimes there can be as many as 50 piyutim on a single one. This is a very large undertaking. Ezra Fleischer worked on it for 40 years, and before he passed away he asked me to continue his work.”


“So you’re his successor.”


“For this project, but I don’t claim to come close to his stature. He was unbelievably knowledgeable in piyut, nusach hatefillah, secular poetry and languages; he spoke more than ten.”


“Was he born in Eretz Yisrael?”


“No. That’s another story, which is really deserving of its own article. He was born and raised in Romania. His father was Yehuda Leib Fleischer, who did research on Rav Avraham ibn Ezra, which is why he named his son Avraham Ezra.


“As a bachur, Ezra was an activist for immigration to Eretz Yisrael, so he was arrested and put in jail under extremely dangerous conditions. He was kept in solitary confinement for a number of years, so during that time he composed a number of Hebrew songs and poems in his head. When he was finally freed, he wrote three books of songs and poems from memory.


“He also wrote a book against the Communists, which he was able to put into the hands of the Israeli ambassador, who sent it to Israel and had it printed under a pen name. It received such wide acclaim that he received the Israel Prize for it anonymously while he was still in Romania. But he couldn’t reveal to anyone that he was the author, because he knew that the Romanians would kill him if word got out.


“A year later he was allowed to go to Israel, where he became friends with my parents. I was five years old when I first met him. He told me that he had studied law in Romania because that was the only exam that wasn’t held on Shabbat. He actually hated law, but he had to study something in university so he chose that. Still, even after he graduated he couldn’t get a job in a prestigious law office, which would have necessitated working on Saturdays, so he became the official secretary of the kehillah under Rav Rosen. He really had unbelievable mesirat nefesh to keep Shabbat.”
ACADEMIA


“How did you become interested in the study of piyut?”


“When I went to university I wanted to study the Hebrew language. But because I was required to add another subject I decided to add Hebrew literature, which my mother taught. Then Professor Fleischer invited me to join his project and I loved it. I took several courses with him and became more and more interested. I finished my bachelor’s degree after only two years and had to decide what to do next.


“In the meantime I had gotten married, and I wanted to make sure that whichever professor I learned under would help me advance in my studies. I also had a choice between studying for a master’s and a more difficult program that would allow you to start working towards your doctorate after a year of study. By then I was expecting, and I realized that the harder program would actually be easier for me because it allowed for much more study to be done at home. The problem was that the language department didn’t want to work with me within the parameters of this program. Since I loved the piyutim, I decided to try to do my doctorate with Ezra Fleischer and he agreed. After the initial year of post-graduate study it took me another three and a half years to receive my doctorate. So the whole thing from undergraduate to PhD took six and a half years, which was also when I gave birth to my third child.”


“Did you find that you had a harder time as a woman in a man’s field?”


“There were never any problems because of that.”


“Are you the highest-ranking professor of piyut in Hebrew University?”


“Yes. There are professors emeritus, but I’m the only one left who is still teaching. Aaron Mirsky, who was related to me, and Ezra Fleischer have both passed away. Then there’s Yosef Yahalom, but he is now retired.”


“Aaron Mirsky internalized the language of the paytanim, but people don’t write like that anymore.”


“That’s true, and sometimes it wasn’t easy to understand him. I remember that my mother once won a prize and Aaron Mirsky was one of the judges who gave a speech. He used the word ‘shigush,’ and throughout the entire evening my aunt kept asking what it meant. I told her that it was an Aramaic word from the piyutim. Incidentally, having a knowledge of targum is also very helpful when trying to understand the piyutim. I make sure to learn shnayim mikra v’echad targum every week. My father taught me Targum Onkelos when I was a young girl, and I taught it to my children as well.”


“Are most of your doctoral students at the university secular?”


“No. Most of them are religious.”


“Do your secular students look at all of this as simply another subject, or does it bring them closer to Yiddishkeit?”


“I really don’t know. Sometimes it does bring them closer. I’ve had students who told me that they weren’t familiar with any Tanach, so I told them to study two perakim a day to catch up. But only one person actually took my advice. I remember that it really bothered me at the time that she was the only one, because she wasn’t Jewish, but in the end she became a giyoret kahalachah and is a shomeret mitzvot.”


“Do you face any difficulties as a woman in this field in the world at large?”


“It’s a bit more complicated. I never go anywhere I’m not wanted.


TORAH KNOWLEDGE


“You must really have a lot of Torah knowledge for all of this,” I tell her.


“I need to learn all the time, so I do.”


“There certainly aren’t many women in the world who know as much Torah as you do,” I insist.


“Baruch Hashem, there are many women who are very knowledgeable today, although they might not be familiar with piyutim. At the last Siyum HaShas, the organizers realized that a lot of people were bringing their wives along, so they decided to have a separate women’s program and asked me to speak. I talked about a mesorah that emerges from the piyutim that Hillel and Shammai were actually brothers, and I explained what it really means. The paytan says that just as the Torah was originally given to two brothers, Moshe and Aharon, so too was it later given to Hillel and Shammai, who were also brothers. Then I showed them how Hillel is a continuation of Aharon and Shammai is a continuation of Moshe, and I brought many mekorot showing how each one had his own direction and how the two of them coming together b’achvah is the epitome of the entire Torah.”


“Where did you find all of those sources? In midrashim?”


“Some of them are from the Midrash, but there are a lot in chasidut as well.”


“In order to understand piyutim a person would have to study them for many hours, but we usually say them too quickly to really understand them.”


“That’s true. That’s why they should be learned properly before Yom Tov. But you don’t have to learn everything in a single year. You can do it gradually. I apply the same principle to the kinot of Tishah B’Av; each year, two should be studied properly. While we’re on the subject, I’d like to share something very interesting. The first kinah we say in the morning is alphabetical in order, but it only starts from the letter samech. What happened to the previous letters? Well, if you look in the machzorim of Nusach Italia you’ll find that they recite a krovetz for each brachah of Shmoneh Esrei. The paragraphs are arranged alphabetically from alef through nun, but they end at Bonei Yerushalayim. That’s because the original place to say kinot was in the middle of the brachah of Bonei Yerushalayim during Shmoneh Esrei! They didn’t say as many kinot as we do, though; they’d recite a few piyutim of kinot and then a few piyutim of nechamot. Similarly, the original minhag in Ashkenaz for Selichot on a taanit was to say it during the brachah of Slach Lanu.


“Studying piyutim reveals minhagim that have been forgotten. For example, on Rosh Hashanah they would blow the shofar in the Beit HaVaad (where the Sanhedrin of Eretz Yisrael sat) even when it occurred on Shabbat. But how was it actually done? There’s a piyut, published by Ezra Fleischer in Tarbiz 54 (reprinted in a volume of his collected writings, Statutory Jewish Prayers) that describes how they would bring the shofar before Shabbat and tie it securely to an amud so that it couldn’t move at all. When it came time to blow the shofar, the baal tekiah would blow the shofar with his mouth without touching it so there would be no issue of carrying.”


“There are many other minhagim as well. In the foreword to every sefer I write, after I describe the literary points, I go into the tochen and the many lost midrashim and so on. I also write about lost minhagim, but what minhagim could I write about for Rosh Hashanah? However, as everyone knows, the way we often find things we’re looking for is through hesech hadaat. You just have to be aware that there’s a problem, because otherwise you might see it without understanding what you’re seeing.


“There’s a question that has bothered researchers for many years. In Masechet Megillah (30b) there is a machloket as to whether to read the parshat hashavua on the arba parshiyot and take out two sifrei Torah—as we do—or to take out only one sefer Torah and read just the special kriah for that week. The question is, according to the second opinion, how could they call up seven people to the Torah on Parshat Shekalim, for example? This question has been examined and much has been written about it.


“The researchers found kitvei yad that say that they simply read longer parshiyot for the arba parshiyot. For example, it says that according to that opinion they would read from Zachor until ba’eir heiteiv in the next parshah [Devarim 27:8]. It says that for Hachodesh they would also read more and Parah is long enough. However, it doesn’t say what they would do for Shekalim.


“A couple of years ago I found a piyut for Parshat Shekalim that I wanted to work on for something else. As I was working on the peirush, I began to wonder why it talks so much about the ketoret if it’s supposed to be about shekalim. Then I realized that it goes from the kiyor to the shemen hamishchah and the ketoret and concludes with ‘V’shamru Bnei Yisrael et haShabbat.’ So I suddenly realized that it must have been the kriah for Parshat Shekalim according to the second opinion—until V’shamru. This piyut was able to help me find a minhag without even searching for it.


“Similarly, the piyutim can give us a picture of what the nusach hatefillah was like. I wrote a paper saying that the nusach of Shmoneh Esrei used to have pesukim before the end of every brachah, just as there are pesukim before the end of birchot kriyat Shema. I proved this from the piyutim, although I was strongly criticized. Then I showed it to one of my former students who told me he’d heard something similar from a researcher who had found a Christian prayer in Greek from the fourth century that was based entirely on Shmoneh Esrei and also had pesukim at the end of each brachah. Another researcher subsequently found a papyrus from that era that also showed one of the brachot with pesukim. There are researchers who still disagree, but I feel that there are now three proofs for this idea.


“I also wrote a sefer called Piyutei Pinchas Hakohen. Pinchas Hakohen was a rosh yeshivah and paytan in Eretz Yisrael during the eighth century. There are many minhagim that can be found in his piyutim as well. He has many beautiful piyutim for Rosh Chodesh, one nicer than the next. However, he also has piyutei kiddush yerachim that are very difficult. In that group, there is a kiddush for each month. But when would kiddush be said on Rosh Chodesh?


“In Masechet Sofrim [19:7] it says that the zekeinim and the talmidim would make a seudah on the night of lamed and after Birkat Hamazon they would pour a cup of wine, say the brachah of Hagafen, and then they would say a brachah that concluded with Baruch atah Hashem, mekadeish Yisrael v’roshei chodashim. So he composed a special nusach of kiddush to be said each month with that brachah. In Masechet Sofrim it says that this wasn’t a regular kiddush but a special praise of Hashem, which had to include something about the tuvei ha’ir, the shevatim, the months of the year and the mazalot.


“You can see in his piyutim that each month contained something about its mazal, the corresponding sheivet, its stone in the Choshen and so on. He goes through it in alphabetical order, and in each month when he reaches the letter tzaddik he discusses the tzom, the fast that occurred in that month. They had a list of fasts that were observed in commemoration of whatever took place in that month. I did some research and eventually found the list in a kinah for Tishah B’Av written by Rabbi Elazar Hakalir. Then I started looking through kitvei yad and found a lot of them describing these fasts. I ultimately wrote a whole book on these fasts, because there are a number of different versions, including one that’s quoted in Shulchan Aruch [Orach Chayim 580:2]. I even gave a full seminar on this topic. One of my students told me she expected it to be boring, but in the end it was the most interesting one she’d ever taken!


“Not everyone observed those fasts; only the talmidei chachamim fasted. Eventually it turned into a list of yahrtzeits of tzaddikim that grew longer and longer, because once they weren’t fasting anyway it didn’t really matter how long the list was. But the original list was quite short. This was something I only found out about thanks to the piyutim of Pinchas Hakohen. I’ve also learned a lot of other interesting things, including some gezeirot the Jews suffered from in those days. The first part of the sefer on the fasts is just texts with philological explanations. The second part is a discussion of all the fasts.


“Are they all yahrtzeits?”


“Most of them are, but some of them commemorate other events that took place. For example, the fast of 8 Teves is observed to commemorate the writing of the Torah in Greek, which is mentioned in Shulchan Aruch.


“Incidentally, I wrote a sefer for the bar mitzvah of each of my sons—although not for my grandsons, because that would be too much for me, ka”h! One son’s bar mitzvah was on Parshat Hachodesh so I wrote about the piyutim of the arba parshiyot. Another one was in Parshiyot Acharei Mot-Kedoshim, so I wrote about a paytan who wrote a lot for Acharei Mot and Yom Kippur.”


ANCIENT HISTORY


“How far do the piyutim go back?” I inquire.


“We have some that go back to the fifth century and maybe a bit earlier, but probably not much earlier than that. The sixth century has quite a lot of piyutim, and by the tenth century we find an explosion, to the extent that every small community had its own piyutim. They were very important to each kehillah. Think about what happens now during chazarat hashatz. People don’t listen with the proper kavanah, and it’s only natural because the chazan is simply repeating what everyone just finished saying. But if the tzibbur expected to hear a new piyut, it would cause everyone to concentrate much better. In those days they didn’t simply repeat the piyutim of the previous year; every year they came up with something new. Just for Shachris of Shavuot we have six piyutim that were written by Rabbi Elazar Hakalir to be said before Kedushah. One of those reached Ashkenaz, but the Genizah has more.”


“Many cultures have been built on the oral transmission of tradition through song. Is that something that existed in our history as well?”


“The paytanim originally knew their songs b’al peh, because as the Gemara says [Shabbos 115b], ‘Kotvei brachot k’sorfei Torah,’ those who write the brachot of Shmoneh Esrei are considered to have burned the Torah [because they are not allowed to be saved if there is a fire on Shabbos]. And the piyutim were actually said within chazarat hashatz instead of the nusach of the middle of the brachot and then they concluded with the matbei’a of the brachah.


“We know this because some piyutim are meshorsharim, linked together by beginning each one with the last word of the previous piyut, which means that nothing was said between the ending of the brachah and the beginning of the next piyut. Additionally, we see that the piyutim mentioned tal and geshem, depending on the time of the year, because that was the only way to mention them. They also said all of the piyutim by heart, which is why they are usually arranged alphabetically to make them easier to remember.


“As we know, it was forbidden to have written siddurim in those days. They only started writing them down much later. If they were written down, it was usually done in secret. But of course, if they hadn’t been written down at all we would never know about them, so they were at least sometimes written down, but the typical person didn’t have one. We have a letter from a chazan to a friend asking him to send him piyutim before the chagim, and to do so quickly, so he would have enough time to learn them by heart.”


“Why did they have to be recited from memory?”


“It’s a matter of kavod not to read words that are meant to be coming from the heart from a piece of a paper. To use a modern example, until the last 20 years or so it was accepted that the President of the United States doesn’t give a speech by reading from a paper. The same applies to a chazan.


“I have a student who is blind. He just sits and listens to my courses, and he’s one of my top students. He knows a lot of midrashim b’al peh. I’ll read a piyut, and he’ll interrupt every couple of words and point out which midrash it’s referring to. He’s used to knowing everything b’al peh, and the same was true for everyone when these piyutim were written. This only changed in the middle of the Geonic period.


“In those days everyone was trained to remember everything. Today, with computers, it’s only getting worse. Everyone relies on the computer and on Bar Ilan’s Responsa Project. The worst part is that without remembering, we don’t even know what to search for. That’s why it’s still so important to commit things to memory. Children used to know the entire Tanach b’al peh before they even began to learn mishnayos, and then they learned that by heart as well.”


CHAZANIM


“What do you think was the point of the piyutim?”


“To sing beautiful praises of Hashem, although they were also educational.”


“Did they have special melodies?”


“Not exactly songs with actual notes, but they had tunes in the same way that when we daven or learn Gemara there are certain tunes to the words; we don’t just say them. For example, my grandfather would work in the orchards all day long, come home, open a Gemara and chant the words in his special tune. He would also pay his workers to take a break to learn Torah, so anyone who loved to learn wanted to work for him! We don’t really know the melody to which piyutim were chanted, but there was definitely a tune.”


“Did any women write piyutim?”


“No, because the paytan had to be the shliach tzibbur, which obviously precludes women.”


“Rabbi Elazar Hakalir was a shliach tzibbur?”


“Yes, he and the great early paytan Yanai even sometimes signed their works with the word ‘chazan.’ They wrote their piyutim for themselves. When they stood at the amud, the tzibor had no idea what they would say before they heard it.”


“The piyutim of Rabbi Elazar Hakalir are very similar to those of the German Rishonim.”


“That’s because the Germans copied his style. A number of his piyutim made their way from Eretz Yisrael to Italy and from there to Germany, where they imitated him.”


“It takes a real talmid chacham to be able to understand the depth hinted at in his piyutim.”


“That’s true. I am working right now on his piyutim, so I can show you some. There’s a book I published together with Dr. Michael Rand. I wrote the peirush and he examined the kitvei yad. The book consists only of piyutim written by Rabbi Elazar Hakalir for Rosh Hashanah. It was very difficult, because it requires careful examination of all of the midrashim to be able to understand what he’s saying. Interestingly, there are very few piyutim said today that don’t have additional parts that are no longer recited.”


“In other words, they were abbreviated?”


“Yes, in later generations. For example, Ta’ir V’taria, which is said during Shachris of Rosh Hashanah, is just the refrain of a lengthy piyut that is no longer said. Another example is Melech zechor achuz keren. You can see what a great poet the author was, as in those four words he was able to mention malchiyut, zichronot and shofarot, as well as the remembrance of Akeidat Yitzchak. After that we say Melech Elyon, which we can see was censored because each line originally had a corresponding line about the melech evyon—the poor king of flesh and blood—of which we now only say two lines at the end. However, if we look at the kitvei yad we find that there was an additional piyut before Melech Elyon, which apparently was never brought to Germany and isn’t said by any community in the world to our knowledge.”


“I would imagine that if we were to say all of Rabbi Elazar Hakalir’s piyutim for Rosh Hashanah it would probably take us an entire week.”


“Or it could take us an entire year to choose which piyutim we wanted to say in a particular year! He didn’t say everything he’d ever written each year; he apparently alternated.”


LOST MIDRASHIM


“There’s another amazing thing I find when doing research. I am constantly coming across midrashim that were lost to the ages. Sometimes I’ll only find the source years later. For example, there’s a piyut that says that the moon disappears on Rosh Hashanah so that we should not be reproved in judgment. What does that mean? I looked and looked but could not find any such midrash. Eventually I found that Machzor Vitry and others write that Hashem established Rosh Hashanah on Rosh Chodesh so that when the Satan will try to prosecute the Jews by saying they sinned, Hashem will tell him to bring witnesses. The Satan then says, ‘Who should I bring? I can’t bring the sun and the moon, because the moon is in hiding and the sun can’t testify on its own.’ When the Satan comes back on Yom Kippur, Hashem tells him that it’s too late because Bnei Yisrael already did teshuvah. Here we see a source for it in 11th-century Germany, but Rabbi Elazar Hakalir lived in the seventh century. Another paytan, Yannai, who lived in the sixth century, also mentions this idea in a piyut. So without these piyutim we would have thought it was a chiddush of rabbanei Tzarfas, but now we know that it probably originated in a lost midrash.


“Another interesting example: Everyone knows that Haman was referred to as ‘the Agagi’ because Shaul allowed Agag to live one extra night, which allowed Haman’s ancestor to be born. However, the earliest makor we find in writing in the 16th century; this fact was discovered by Rav Shmuel Ashkenazi of Yerushalayim. But I found a ktav yad of a piyut about Purim that describes this very story and explains how Haman’s ancestor was born, which gives us a source from 1,000 years earlier! And there are many similar examples of lost midrashim being kept alive through unknown piyutim.”


“Is it possible that the later chachamim wrote things based on these lost piyutim?”


“That’s very unlikely, because these kitvei yad were never disseminated. But what these piyutim prove is that there was a mesorah that people knew about and may have even been set down in midrashim that were subsequently lost, and the later chachamim who did write about them were familiar with the original mesorah.”


“Do you give shiurim on the meanings of the piyutim?”


“Only in the university, although tonight there will be an event in preparation for Rosh Hashanah where I will be speaking about Unetaneh Tokef.”


“Let’s talk about Unetaneh Tokef for a moment.”


“Everyone knows the story of Rabbeinu Amnon and his mesirat nefesh that led to his writing this piyut. Everyone also knows that he lived in the city of Mainz, Germany, which means that he had to have lived towards the end of the tenth century, because we don’t find any piyutim from that region before that time.”


“He is also a personality about whom we know almost nothing.”


“Exactly. We don’t know anything about him except this story. However, we found Unetaneh Tokef in the Genizah near a collection of piyutim by Yannai. We even began to think that maybe Unetaneh Tokef was written by Yannai, which I still think is true, but at the very least it seems to have come from the era of Yannai. Other researchers argued and said that because of its length and the lack of rhymes and verses it was really from Ashkenaz. Then we found incontrovertible proof that it did not originate in Ashkenaz: a very long piyut from Rabbi Elazar Hakalir to be said right before Kedushah of Musaf that takes the words of Unetaneh Tokef and enlarges upon each line. This clearly shows that while he was not the composer of Unetaneh Tokef, he was familiar with it and it was significant enough in his lifetime that he felt it worthy of being adapted and enlarged upon.”


ELIZUR’S WRITINGS


“I see that you enjoy the piyutim of Rabbi Elazar Hakalir very much, but it would seem that most people appreciate Rabbi Yehudah Halevi more because his style is easier to understand.”


“We’ve found new things from Rabbi Yehudah Halevi as well. Incidentally, not everything he wrote is so easy to understand. Everyone knows Tziyon Halo Tishali, which is easy to understand, particularly in contrast with Rabbi Elazar Hakalir. But many of his piyutim also require study.


“I wrote an article a number of years ago about the piyutim that were written to be said before Kedushah. With all those references to hidden midrashim, they could not have been intended for just anyone sitting in a beit knesset. As I tell my students, ‘You’re all sitting in front of me right now, but when it comes to the test, some of you will get 100% while others might only get 70%.’ The paytanim understood this as well, so in the beginning of those piyutim you’ll find the references hinted at very obliquely. Then, as the piyut continues, those remazim will be fleshed out a bit more, and by the time you get to the end there are concepts that can be understood by anyone. In this way, more and more people can feel a connection.”


“Are all of your books on piyut?”


“Yes.”


“But your sefer on the parshah, Shirah Shel Parashah, is something that is accessible to everyone, not just scholars.”


“Absolutely. I wrote another book like that on secular poetry from Spain.”


“How long did it take you to write the sefer on the arba parshiyot for your son’s bar mitzvah?”


“A couple of months. I work very quickly.”


“Which sefer do you consider your biggest accomplishment— your magnum opus?”


“The one I’m in the middle of writing right now. It’s a sefer on the history of the kedushta, which are the piyutim composed to be recited right before Kedushah. There are many chiddushim in that sefer and also things about Rabbi Elazar Hakalir that I discovered.”


“From examining his kisvei yad?”


“We don’t have any kitvei yad from him personally. He passed away in the middle of the seventh century, and the earliest kitvei yad we have are from the ninth century. However, I was able to figure these things out from the style and verses of his piyutim. It’s very complicated; I’ve been working on this for decades.


“Which ones are nicer? The ones he wrote when he was younger, or the ones he wrote when he was older?”


“Although the two styles are very different, they are both very nice, and I wouldn’t say that one is nicer than the other. In between there was a time when his style was very complicated, and I don’t really appreciate it, but I like to say that he was engaged in developing his later style. His later style is much easier to understand and is very lyrical. He wrote piyutim for chatanim and for the seven weeks of nechamah after Tishah B’Av. I wrote a sefer on those. I’m currently working on Rabbi Elazar Hakalir’s piyutim for Yom Kippur, and I daven that Hashem should give me the koach to finish it.”


BACKGROUND


“Was your father a learned person?”


“Yes. He was a talmid chacham who had studied in Yeshivas Chevron as a bachur, but after that he learned entirely on his own.”


“What was his name?”


“Meir Chovav. My grandfather, father and uncle were all very interested in piyut and zemirot. They had special tunes for all of the zemirot of Motza’ei Shabbat. I don’t know many people who sing all of the zemirot in the siddur, but my grandfather did. When I got married I asked my mother to teach me all of her father’s tunes so I’d be able to pass them onto the next generation, and now all of my children know them as well.”


“I’ve heard of your father. He wrote many sefarim.”


“Right, and he was also an editor. He taught me piyutim as soon as I started to read. He davened in Yeshivat Eitz Chaim and I used to sit next to him as a young girl. They would say the piyutim for the Arba Parshiyot after davening rather than during chazarat hashatz. As they said them, my father would show me the words and explain them to me. My mother was also a teacher of literature and she wrote her master’s thesis on the Selichot of Rabbi Shimon ben Rabbi Yitzchak. So I grew up in a home where piyutim were of the utmost importance. My father had a theory in chinuch that the world needs to hear: When you tell children that if they learn you’ll give them candies, you’re teaching them that the goal is the candies, and that Torah is something that needs to be paid for and isn’t good on its own. My father’s approach was the exact opposite. If you do something correctly, I will stay and learn Torah with you. If you are dressed and ready to go to school early, you can come to my room and I will learn with you. This taught us that Torah itself was the reward. I did the same thing with my children and I’ve seen amazing results.


“Last week we went on vacation up north. When we arrived at the hotel, there was a beit knesset there. Whoever hadn’t davened Minchah yet went and davened, and then they needed a minyan for Maariv, so they waited for a minyan. Our family has seven men over bar mitzvah between our children and grandchildren, so they only had to wait for three more people. In the meantime, I walked in to see what was happening and found my son-in-law learning with a group of children and teaching them the story of tanur shel Achna’i [Bava Metzia 59a]. One of my sons was sitting and learning Gemara with his ten-year-old son. Two grandchildren—cousins—were learning Gemara; everyone was learning. They all know that whenever there’s free time it’s for the purpose of learning. I felt so fortunate. This was exactly my father’s shitah in chinuch. Whenever I see things like this it makes me really happy. Seeing the grandchildren laughing and playing during the vacation was very nice, but seeing them learning like that was so much better.”


“I’m sure the fact that they have a mother like you also helps.”


“And it’s not just my sons; my daughter is also very learned. She is now finishing her doctorate on how to teach family purity in today’s day and age.”


“How many children do you have?”


“I have four, baruch Hashem; one daughter and three sons. My daughter and her 17-year-old daughter daven in the beit knesset three times a day, sitting bitzniut in the ezrat nashim.”


“How long have you been living here in the Old City?”


“Forty-one years.”


“This is a very nice house. Are all the homes here similar?” “Each one is different. No two are the same.”


“Are there any problems with the Arabs in the neighborhood?”


“Almost none.”


“Do people who live here go to the Kotel every day?”


“Some do. There were years when I went every day, but I want to be able to daven properly with a minyan and that’s very difficult to do from the ezrat nashim of the Kotel, so I go to the Churva. I’ve been davening there every day since they renovated it. There are many women in the neighborhood who daven with a minyan every day and even three times a day. Between the Kotel and the Churva, it’s very easy. My husband goes to the Kotel because on the men’s side it’s much easier to daven.”


“What does your husband do?”


“He works at the Academy for the Hebrew Language. They are working on a historical dictionary of the Hebrew language. They have a collection of every word used by Chazal, all of the midrashim, all of the piyutim, megillot genuzot and more. They want to upload as many texts as possible into the computer and then analyze where and how many times every single word can be found. What’s unique is that they don’t just put up every word on the website; they dissect them. So, for example, as I’m working and come across a certain word, I can search for it and see every context in which it is used. They check each text according to the most accurate kitvei yad and give an explanation for every word. This is my husband’s biggest project. They also publish sefarim of the kitvei yad from time to time. For example, they printed the Talmud Yerushalmi from the only full ktav yad in existence. If there are mistakes in the ktav yad they point them out. Right now my husband is working on an index that explains each mistake; he’s constantly working on the Yerushalmi.”


“Was your husband also born in Yerushalayim?”


“Yes. His mother was a Holocaust survivor and his father was a survivor of the Chevron massacre; he was learning in Yeshivat Chevron at the time. My husband was their only son.”


“And now, to sum things up…”

“What can I really say in summary? I thank Hashem for ‘placing my portion among those who sit in the beit midrash,’ and for giving me the ability to teach and explain piyutim. I daven that Hashem should give me the koach to continue with my work.”



The Rogochover and More

The Rogochover and More

Marc B. Shapiro
In a recent Jewish Review of Books (Summer 2017), I published a translation of an interview R. Joseph Rozin, the Rogochover, gave to the New York Yiddish paper, Der morgen zhurnal. You can see the original interview here. The fact that the Rogochover agreed to the interview is itself significant. As is to be expected, the content of the interview is also of great interest.
In the preface to the interview, I mentioned that the Rogochover famously studied Torah on Tisha be-Av and when he was an avel, both of which are in violation of accepted halakhah. When he was once asked why, while sitting shiva, he learnt Torah, he is reported to have replied:[1]
ודאי, עבירה היא זו, וכשאקבל עונש על שאר עונותי יענישוני אף על עון זה, אבל אני אקבל באהבה וברצון את העונש על חטא זה, וכדאית היא התורה להלקות עליה
R. Yissachar Tamar cites an eye-witness who reported that the Rogochover said basically the same thing in explaining why he learnt on Tisha be-Av, and noted how wonderful it will be to be punished for studying Torah.[2]
ומה נעים לקבל צליפות על עסק התורה
The Hazon Ish was told that the Rogochover learnt Torah when he was in mourning and that he made another antinomian-like comment in justification of his behavior, namely, that he wants to be in the gehinom of those who learn Torah. The Hazon Ish replied that “this gehinom is the same gehinom for the other sins.”[3]
The various comments quoted in the name of the Rogochover show his great need for studying Torah, a need that simply did not allow him to put aside his Torah study, even when halakhah required it. Yet the antinomian implication of the Rogochover’s comments was too much to be ignored. R. Gavriel Zinner’s reaction after quoting the Rogochover is how many felt.[4]
ולא זכיתי להבין, הלא מי לנו גדול מחכמי הגמ’ שנפשם ג”כ חשקה בתורה ואפ”ה גזרו שבת”ב ובזמן אבל אסורים בלימוד התורה, ועוד שאחז”ל הלומד ע”מ שלא לעשות נוח לו שלא נברא.
It is thus to be expected that some authors deny that the Rogochover could have really said any of what I have quoted. And if he did say it, they feel that it must have been merely a joke or a comment not meant to be taken seriously, or that he did not want people to know the real reason he studied Torah while in avelut (namely, the Yerushalmi which will soon be mentioned).[5] R. Abraham Weinfeld goes so far as to say, with reference to one of the comments I have quoted that “It is forbidden to hear these words, and Heaven forbid to suspect that Rabban shel Yisrael [the Rogochover] would say this.”[6] 

Those who refuse to accept that the Rogochover meant what he said are forced to find a halakhic justification for his behavior, and indeed, when it comes to an avel studying Torah (and this would also apply to Tisha be-Av, the halakhot of which are not as stringent as those of personal mourning), there is a passage in the Yerushalmi, Moed Katan 3:5, that permits Torah study for one who has a great need.[7]  (This heter is not recorded in the Shulhan Arukh, but this would not have concerned the Rogochover.[8]) Yet it is important to remember that as far as we know the Rogochover never cited this passage in the Yerushalmi as justification for his studying Torah when he was sitting shiva.[9]

Now for something disappointing and even a bit shocking: Here are the two pages from R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Ishim ve-Shitot (Jerusalem, 2007), pp. 75-76, where you can see one of the“controversial” quotations (which as R. Zevin notes is taken from an article in Ha-Hed).

R. Menahem Kasher quoted the entire two pages from Ishim ve-Shitot in his Mefaneah Tzefunot (Jerusalem, 1976), pp. 1-2 in the note.
Look at the end of the first paragraph of the note on p. 2. The “problematic” quotation of the Rogochover, saying that he will happily be punished for his sin in studying Torah, as the Torah is worth it, has been deleted. Instead, the Rogochover is portrayed as explaining his behavior as due to the passage in the Yerushalmi. While all the other authors who discuss this matter and want to “defend” the Rogochover claim that his real reason for studying Torah was based on the Yerushalmi, in R. Kasher’s work this defense is not needed as now we have the Rogochover himself giving this explanation!

Yet the Rogochover never said this. R. Zevin’s text has been altered and a spurious comment put in the mouth of the Rogochover, By looking carefully at the text you can see that originally R. Zevin was quoted correctly. Notice how there is a space between the first and second paragraphs and how the false addition is a different size than the rest of the words. What appears to have happened is that the original continuation of the paragraph was whited out and the fraudulent words were substituted in its place. Yet this was done after everything was typeset so the evidence of the altering remains.
Look also at the third paragraph where it says
ההד, שם
However, this makes no sense as R. Zevin’s reference to Ha-Hed has been deleted. I do not see how anyone other than R. Kasher could have been responsible for this particular “editing.” 
As mentioned, many were troubled by the Rogochover’s antinomian-like comment.[10] Yet he is not the only one to speak like this. R. Joseph Hayyim (the Ben Ish Hai) in his Benayahu refers to an unnamed gaon who also learnt Torah when he was in avelut. When asked about this he did not refer to the Yerushalmi but answered in an antinomian fashion just like the Rogochover: “I know that I am violating the words of the Sages, and I know that on the day of judgment I will certainly be punished for this, but he [!] is prepared and willing to suffer and receive this punishment whatever it will be, because he is not able to withstand the pain of avoiding the study of Torah which is as difficult for him as death.”[11] Benayahu appeared in 1905. I do not think it is possible that at such an early date R. Joseph Hayyim could have heard a story about the Rogochover, so he must have had another great rabbi in mind.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe told a similar story.[12] When he was a youth, he had a teacher from Lithuania who lived in his home. He once found this teacher learning on Tisha be-Av. Young Menachem Mendel asked the teacher how is it that he was learning Torah on that day. The teacher replied: “When I come to the World to Come, I will be punished for one reason or another. I will be happy if I know that the reason I am being punished is because I learnt on Tisha be-Av.”[13]
The following subversive story with R. Israel of Ruzhin is also of interest, as it too shows a violation of accepted halakhah regarding Torah study on Tisha be-Av. It appears in R. Mordechai Hayyim of Slonim, Ma’amar Mordechai, vol. 2, p. 206.
הרה”ק מרוזין שהה פעם בימי בין המצרים במעינות המרפא, וביום צום תשעה באב אחר חצות היום, אמר לאחד מבני לוויתו שילמוד מסכתא משניות, ויעשה סיום בליל מוצאי התענית, ויסמכו על זה הקהל אשר שם ויאכלו בשר ואמר בלשו”ק: רבי שמואל קאמינקער אמר, שסיום מסכתא משניות חשוב כמו סיום מסכת גמרא, ועל רבי שמואל קאמינקער יכולין לסמוך כמו על אחד מגדולי הפוסקים. ועל האיסור ללמוד בתשעה באב אחר חצות, דאס נעם איך אויף מיר, און לאזן אידן עסן פלייש . . .

Returning to the interview with the Rogochover, he cites Maimonides who says that the word “Germany” is derived from the Hebrew word gerem, meaning “bone.”
Mishnah Negaim 2:1, in a passage that tells us how things used to be, says that Jews are neither black nor white, but in the middle (meaning, a Middle Eastern look). At the beginning of the Mishnah it speaks of a white spot that appears on a white man and on a black man. The word the Mishnah uses for “white man” is גרמני (German), and for “black man” it uses כושי. Germania was the Roman term for the area we call Germany, so it makes sense that the Mishnah, in describing a white man, would use that term.[14]
Apparently, Maimonides did not know the word גרמני. Thus, in his commentary to Negaim 2:1 he offers the explanation mentioned by the Rogochover, that גרמני is related to the word for bone. (In the interview, the Rogochover says that Maimonides refers to the Hebrew word גרם, but I wonder if this was a mistake on the interviewer’s part, as the word used by Maimonides is the Aramaic גרמא). Here is R. Kafih’s translation:
גרמני שם הלבן ביותר מיוחס אל העצם אשר שמו גרמא
Leaving aside the matter of the correct historical etymology, I wonder if Maimonides saw a problem with his explanation, namely, that for “black man” the Mishnah uses an ethnic identification, so one would expect it to also use such an identification in describing a white man. Furthermore, why would the Mishnah use an Aramaic word instead of the Hebrew עצם?
R. Elijah Benamozegh wonders how Maimonides did not realize what גרמני is referring to:[15]
והפלא על חכמת הרמב”ם שכתב כן ועשה עין של מעלה כאלו אינה רואה שדברי חז”ל מעידים ומגידים שגרמני שם אומה, לא זולת, ומה ענין לגרמא עצם בל’ ארמי?
R. Meir Mazuz asks, “How could Maimonides not have thought of this?” namely, that גרמני means German.[16] He explains that Maimonides was an Arabic speaker, and the way he knew Germany was by the term “Alemannia.” As such, when he saw the word גרמני in the Mishnah, since he did not know the term “Germany” he was forced to come up with a different explanation tying גרמני to “white.”[17]
What R. Mazuz did not know is that this explanation is not original to Maimonides and must reflect an earlier tradition.[18] I say this because R. Hillel ben Elyakim of Greece, who lived in the twelfth century (that is, contemporaneously with Maimonides) independently mentions this explanation. In his commentary to Torat Kohanim, ed. S. Kolodetzky, vol. 1, p. 190, he writes:
ומנלן גרמני הוי לבן כדגרסי’ בכל מקום גרמני מוכר כושי וכאן כושי מוכר גרמני דהיינו לבן דעצם מתרגמינן גרמא ועצם הוי לבן.
R. Hillel cites Bereshit Rabbah 86:3 which states: “Everywhere a white man (גרמני) sells a black man (כושי), while here a black man is selling a white man.” He also says דעצם מתרגמינן גרמא. If you look at Onkelos and Targum Ps. Jonathan to Genesis 2:23 this is exactly what you find.
When I found what R. Hillel wrote, I was quite excited, as I thought I had discovered something that no one else had taken notice of. Yet I later found that Jacob Nahum Epstein had already called attention to this in his notes to the commentary attributed to R. Hai Gaon to Seder Toharot (Berlin, 1921), p. 94 n. 32. He assumes that R. Hillel predates Maimonides:
ר”ה מארץ יון בפי’ ספרא דף קי”ג ב’ ור”מ אחריו הוציאוהו מן “גרמא”, עצם!
Returning to the Rogochover, everyone knows that the he put Maimonides above all other authorities. However, R. Zevin, Ishim ve-Shitot (Jerusalem, 2007), p. 125, calls attention to an example where in a practical halakhic matter the Rogochover rejected Maimonides’ view. See She’elot u-Teshuvot Tzafnat Paneah, vol. 1, no. 34:[19]
ואף דרבותינו הראשונים ז”ל וגם רבנו הגדול הרמב”ם לא ס”ל כן עפר אני תחת רגליו אך העיקר כמ”ש לדינא
The Rogochover’s sharp tongue is well known. For an example of how the Rogochover could even speak disrespectfully about the Tosafists, see Rav Tzair, Pirkei Hayyim (New York, 1954), p. 163.[20] Rav Tzair recalls how as a yeshiva student he went to meet the Rogochover where, we can only say, he was “blown away.” He writes:
אחר כך פנה אלי ואמר לי: ואתה בחור למה באת? יש לך קושיא, אמור! מלמלתי בבהלה את הקושיא שהיתה, כפי שאני זוכר, בתוספות של מסכת בבא מציעא, בדיני הפקר ומציאה. על זה השיב לי בבהלה כדרכו. הא, בתוספות? התוספות לא ידעו מה הם סחים; (“תוספות האט געפלוידערט”). נבהלתי, כמובן, לשמוע את הדיבורים הללו, ומלים נעתקו מפי. אמר לי, מה אתה נבהל? אני אראה לך כמה וכמה תוספות שלא הבינו את הגמרא, והתחיל להביא תלי תלים של דברי תוספות מכל הש”ס, והכל בעל פה, על פי הדף ודיבור המתחיל, ועירבב דבר אחד בשני ובבלי בירושלמי, עד שראה שראשי היה עלי כגלגל וחדלתי להבין את המשך הענינים.
Rav Tzair, ibid., p. 164, also mentions the Rogochover’s negative comment about R. Isaac Elhanan Spektor:
הנה הזקן יושב לו בקובנה וכותב ומדפיס וכותב ומדפיס עד אין סוף! מי מבקש זאת ממנו? כלום ספרים חסרים בעולם? הנה זקנך, ששמעתי עליו שהוא בעל-הוראה, יושב ופוסק שאלות. זה הכל מה שצריך. כל הרבנים הכותבים ספרים אינם יודעים בין ימינם לשמאלם.
Zvi Hirsch Masliansky, Maslianky’s Zikhroynes (New York, 1924), p. 107, who has a very negative view of the Rogochover, also records how he denigrated R. Isaac Elhanan as well as R. Samuel Mohilever and the Hibbat Zion movement. He further mentions that the Rogochover disparaged his own rebbe, R. Joseph Baer Soloveitchik:
צוזאמען מיט זיין גוואלדיגען זכרון, האט זיך ענטוויקעלט אין איהם זיין ווילדער עזות און חוצפה צו מבטל זיין אלע גאונים צוזאמען מיט זיין גרויסען רבי’ רבי יוסף בער.
See also R. Nathan Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, pp. 743, 747, for other times that the Rogochover insulted R. Joseph Baer Soloveitchik. (On p. 744 Kamenetsky writes that the Rogochover received semikhah from R. Soloveitchik.)

Masliansky’s Hebrew autobiography is not an exact translation of the original Yiddish. (The English version is a translation from the Hebrew.) The Hebrew edition does not contain the passage just quoted. It also does not contain Masliansky’s concluding negative comment, p. 108:

ער האָט זיך צושריען און צוהיצט, און האָט צומישט און צופלאָנטערט פערשיעדענע ענינים, און ער האָט מיר אויסגעוויזען ווי א פאציענט פון א משוגעים הויז. איך האב אים נאָר ניט גענעטפערט; איך בין ארויס א פערטרויערטער און געדעקט: “אָט דאָס זיינען דיינע גאונים, מיין פאָלק ישראל!”
Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, p. 747 n. b, mentions the Hebrew edition’s deletion of these “revolting lines of the original text.” We have a number of descriptions of the Rogochover from people who met him, and while all portray him as unusual, none have the negative spin of Masliansky. Perhaps it was the Rogochover’s anti-Zionism that turned Masliansky against him.  
R. Moshe Maimon called my attention to She’elot u-Teshuvot Tzafnat Paneah ha-Hadashot (Modi’in Ilit, 2012), vol. 2, p. 391 (unpaginated), where we see that in newly published material the Rogochover referred to the Vilna Gaon as “Rabbenu ha-Gra.” This is significant because in the interview I published the Rogochover was hardly complimentary to the Vilna Gaon.[21]
She’elot u-Teshuvot Tzafnat Paneah ha-Hadashot is quite an interesting publication and includes the Rogochover’s notes to some poems of R. Judah Halevi. It is not that the Rogochover had any great interest in Halevi’s poetry. However, the Rogochover was one of those people whose mind was such that he had something to say about everything he read.
I encourage anyone interested in the Rogochover to watch this wonderful video by Louis Jacobs. The Rogochover was one of Jacobs’ heroes, and somewhere he mentions that the Rogochover was one of the people he would have loved to have met.
Regarding Bialik’s visit with the Rogochover that I mentioned in the Jewish Review of Books article, Maimon called my attention to this article by Noah Zevuluni [22]. For more on the meeting of Bialik and the Rogochover, see Doar ha-Yom, Jan. 10, 1932, p. 2, and Davar, April 17, 1935, p. 16 (where it mistakenly states that Bialik said that you could make ten Einsteins out of one Rogochover. He actually said that you could make two Einsteins out of one Rogochover.). The last two sources were brought to my attention by R. Shimon Szimonowitz.
Yossi Newfeld called my attention to the following two works focused on the Rogochover: Regarding the Rogochover and the Lubavitcher Rebbe, there is an MA dissertation by Yisrael Ori Meitlis, “‘Ha-Lamdanut ha-Filosofit’ shel Rabbi Yosef Rozin bi-Derashotav shel Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneersohn (ha-Rebbe mi-Lubavitch),” (Bar-Ilan University, 2013). There is also the volume Ha-Tzafnat Paneah be-Mishnat ha-Rebbe (Brooklyn, 2003). In a previous post I called attention to R. Dovber Schwartz’s wonderful book The Rogatchover Gaon.
It is often said that the Rebbe received semichah from the Rogochover, yet there is no documentary evidence of this. The origin of this notion might be the Rebbe’s mother, who stated as such. See the comprehensive and beautifully produced new book on the Rebbe by R. Boruch Oberlander and R. Elkanah Shmotkin, Early Years.
In my article I mentioned the Rogochover’s unique perspective on the halakhic status of civil marriage. Those interested in this topic should consult R. Menahem Mendel Tenenbaum, Nisuim Ezrahiyim be-Mishnato shel Ha-Rogochovi z”l (n.p., 1988). This book contains an analysis of six responsa of the Rogochover on the topic.
One final point I would like to make about the Rogochover relates to his view of secular studies. He was one of those who responded to R. Shimon Schwab’s query about the halakhic validity of the German Torah im Derekh Eretz approach.[23] You can find his letter in Ha-Ma’yan[24] 16 (Nisan 5736), pp. 1ff. Among the significant points he makes is that, following Maimonides, a father must teach his son “wisdom.” He derives this from Maimonides’ ruling in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5:
הבן שהרג את אביו בשגגה גולה וכן האב שהרג את בנו בשגגה גולה על ידו. במה דברים אמורים בשהרגו שלא בשעת לימוד או שהיה מלמדו אומנות אחרת שאינו צריך לה. אבל אם ייסר את בנו כדי ללמדו תורה או חכמה או אומנות ומת פטור.
He adds, however, that instruction in “secular” subjects is not something that the community should be involved in, with the exception of medicine, astronomy, and the skills which allow one to take proper measurements, since all these matters have halakhic relevance. In other words, according to the Rogochover, while Jewish schools should teach these subjects, no other secular subjects (“wisdom”) should be taught by the schools, but the father should arrange private instruction for his son.
רואים דהרמב”ם ס”ל דגם חכמה מותר וצריך אב ללמוד לבנו אבל ציבור ודאי אסורים בשאר חכמות חוץ מן רפואה ותקפות [!] דשיך [!] לעבובר [צ”ל לעבור] וגמטרא [!] השייך למדידה דזה ג”כ בגדר דין.
He then refers to the Mekhilta, parashat Bo (ch. 18), which cites R. Judah ha-Nasi as saying that a father must teach his son ישוב המדינה. The Rogochover does not explain what yishuv ha-medinah means, just as he earlier does not explain what is meant by “wisdom,” but these terms obviously include the secular studies that are necessary to function properly in society.
The publication of this letter of the Rogochover was regarded as quite significant. Yet as far as I know, no one has pointed out that the main point of the letter had already appeared in print. In 1937 R. Judah Ari Wohlgemuth published Yesodot Hinukh ha-Dat le-Dor. On p. 250 he included the following comment of the Rogochover, found in the margin of Rogochover’s copy of the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5.
נראה לי דר”ל שאר חכמות גם כן חייב האב ללמדו
Excursus 1
For another example of Maimonides offering a speculative etymology for a word he did not know, see his commentary to Yadayim 4:6 regarding the word המירם. In his commentary to Sanhedrin 10:1, Maimonides explains the term אפיקורוס as coming from an Aramaic word. This is surprising as Maimonides knew of the Greek philosopher Epicurus and refers to him in Guide I:73, II:13, 32, III:17. (Even if Maimonides had not heard of Epicurus when he wrote his commentary on the Mishnah, we know that he revised this work throughout his life and yet he never altered his explanation of אפיקורוס.) See Arukh Shalem, ed. Kohut (Vienna, 1878), s. v. אפיקורוס. See also R. Yitzhak Sheilat, Hakdamot ha-Rambam (Jerusalem, 1992) p. 185, who believes that Maimonides knew the real origin of the word but was only following the Talmud’s “midrashic” derivation of the term from the Aramaic word אפקירותא  (see Sanhedrin 100a). See also R. Hayyim Yehoshua Kasowski, Otzar Leshon ha-Mishnah, s.v. אפיקורוס:
וע”פ דמיון השם הזה אל הפעל פקר בארמית השתמשו בו לכנוי נרדף למין וצדוקי ובייתוסי
R. Simeon ben Zemah Duran, Magen Avot (Livorno, 1785), 1:2 (p. 4b), and the section of this work on Avot 2:14also called Magen Avot (Leipzig, 1855), and R. Joseph Albo, Sefer ha-Ikarim I:10, point to Epicurus as the origin of the term אפיקורוס.
In his commentary to Kelim 30:2 and Parah 1:3, Maimonides explains two Greek words with Hebrew etymologies. I see no reason to accept R. Kafih’s opinion, expressed in his notes ad loc., that in these cases Maimonides knew that the words were Greek and was simply offering a “remez.” In fact, in his commentary to Kelim 30:2 he writes explicitly:


והוא לדעתי מלה מורכבת  

If he was simply offering a “remez” he would not have written, “In my opinion,” followed by the etymology. At other times, however, it is possible that Maimonides knew that the words were Greek and he did not intend to offer a scientific etymology. This is the approach of Dror Fixler, who applies it even to the case from Kelim 30:2 just mentioned.[25]

R. Kafih is, of course, correct that the talmudic sages would at times offer a Hebrew etymology for a word that they knew was not Hebrew. The example he offers is Megillah 6a: “Why is it called Tiberias? Because it is situated in the very center of the land of Israel.” The Sages obviously knew that the city was named after a Roman emperor, and the Hebrew etymology can only be regarded as a form of midrash. Apart from modern scholarly sources that discuss the phenomenon of “judaizing” non-Hebrew words, see R. Jacob Emden, Lehem Nikudim, Avot 2:14:
וכן הוא מנהג החכמים ז”ל לגזור ממלות יוניות שמות ופעלים עברייים וארמיים.
R. Emden’s comment was precipitated by the word אפיקורוס which appears in Avot 2:14. R. Emden also mentions the word סנהדרין. See also R. Samuel Moses Rubenstein, Torat ha-Kabbalah (Warsaw, 1912), pp. 29ff. Some of R. Rubenstein’s examples are themselves speculative. For instance, he claims that the words בן דינאי in Kelim 5:10 are a “judaization” of the word “Bedouin.” 

R. Rubenstein notes a number of examples of post-talmudic authorities not realizing the real origin of a word and offering a Hebrew etymology. One of these appears in R. Ovadiah Bertinoro’s commentary to Sotah 9:11, where R. Bertinoro writes as follows regarding the Greek word “Sanhedrin.”

ונקראים סנהדרין ששונאים הדרת פנים בדין
(ש and ס are interchangeable.) Yet I wonder, is R. Rubenstein correct that R. Bertinoro is offering an actual Hebrew etymology for the word “Sanhedrin”? The passage just quoted might be no more than a “midrashic” etymology, which R. Bertinoro would acknowledge is not the real origin of the word. Jacob Reifman refers to R. Bertinoro’s etymology as a דרש רחוק מאד. See Reifman, Sanhedrin (Berditchev, 1888), p. 3. He then adds:
ולא אדע עתה מאין לקח, ואולי הוא אך יליד הר”ע עצמו
Reifman was unaware that this etymology is also recorded by R. Jacob Moelin, so it could not have been original to R. Bertinoro. See Sefer Maharil, ed. Spitzer (Jerusalem, 1989), p. 611.
Even if we conclude that the etymology mentioned by R. Moelin and R. Bertinoro was simply “midrashic,” there is no reason to assume that they knew that the word סנהדרין was Greek, knowledge of which was not common among Jews of their time and place. See R. Avigdor Tzarfati, Perushim u-Fesakim le-Rabbenu Avigdor ha-Tzarfati (Jerusalem, 1996), p. 233, who does not know the word’s Greek origin and writes:
ואני שמעתי סנהדרין לשון סני דרין פי’ שהיו שונאין דורונות
In this case, it does seem that R. Avigdor is offering what he thinks is the actual etymology of the word. R. Yom Tov Lippman Heller, Tosafot Yom Tov, beginning of Sanhedrin, writes that סנהדרין is an Aramaic word, so he too did not know its Greek origin.
Returning to R. Bertinoro, in his commentary to Avot 2:14 he offers an unscientific etymology of the word אפיקורוס, but he must have known who Epicurus was, so I assume that this is a “midrashic” etymology. 
לאפיקורוס: לשון הפקר שמבזה את התורה ומחשיבה כאילו היא הפקר. אי נמי משים עצמו כהפקר ואינו חס על נפשו לחוש שמא תבוא עליו רעה על שמבזה את התורה או לומדיה.
To turn to a different question, are there any examples in the Talmud where an etymology is not simply “midrashic” but intended to be taken seriously, and yet we know that it is mistaken? The Mishnah in Ketubot 15b mentions a “hinuma.” On 17b the Talmud asks what a hinuma is, and quotes R. Johanan who says: “A veil under which the bride [sometimes] slumbers (דמנמנה).” As Rashi explains, R. Johanan is making a connection between the word הינומא and מנמנה which itself is related to the word תנומה (slumber).[26]
ופעמים שמנמנמת בתוכו מתוך שאין עיניה מגולין ולכך נקרא הינומא על שם תנומה
The Arukh, s.v. הנמא, cites R. Hananel who states that hinuma is a Greek word. It is possible to understand R. Hananel as meaning that R. Johanan’s explanation was no more than a “midrashic” etymology. (This is on the assumption that he understood the passage as Rashi did.) However, this passage in R. Hananel also assumed a life of its own, as some saw it as providing support for the assumption that the Sages were not always correct in their etymologies. This matter has recently been discussed by Hanan Gafni in his fine book, “Peshutah shel Mishnah,” pp. 184ff., so there is no need for me to repeat what he has written.
Excursus 2
R. Raphael Mordechai Barishansky was shocked to read what the Rogochover said about the Vilna Gaon, as I think we all are. He responded strongly in an article in Der morgen zhurnal which was later reprinted in his Osef Mikhtavim Mehutavim (New York, 1952), pp. 167-169. Even though his words are strong, R. Barishansky shows great respect for the Rogochover. 

This is not the case with R. Abraham Aaron Yudelevitz whose attack on the Rogochover is quite sharp. It needs to be said, however, that this came after the Rogochover referred to R. Yudelevitz – who was himself an outstanding scholar – in a very negative way. In printing the Rogochover’s letter, R. Yudelevitz tells us that he cut out some of Rogochover’s harshest words, but we still get the picture. The Rogochover was responding to R. Yudelevitz’s novel view that halitzah can be done with an agent, and the Rogochover referred to R. Yudelevitz as a בן סורר ומורה. See R. Yudelevitz, Av be-Hokhmah (New York, 1927), p. 82. [27]

Here is some of what R. Yudelevitz said in response, ibid., pp. 83,85-86. The language is very sharp (and also refers to how the Rogochover rejected something the Vilna Gaon wrote):
פער פיו בזלזולים כהאשה בת בוזי היושבת בשוק ומוכרת עיגולים בשער האשפתות ואולתו כפרתו כי אין קץ לשטותו ולגאותו.
אבל הוא אינו חושש לזה, לא להרמב”ם ולא להשו”ע, כי הוא חושב כי עד שבא הוא לעולם לא היתה לישראל תורה כלל כי לא הבינו תורה מאומה וממנו התחילה התורה ובו תסיים וראוי היה לו לומר דכל מי שאינו אומר כמותו יתכן כי הוא עוד גאון אבל אינו עוד גאון עצום ויחיד בדור כמוהו, אבל גאות אדם תשפילנו כתיב לכן הוא בגאותו שחקים משפיל את עצמו כי אמר רק דברים פשוטים הגונים לבור ולא גאונות והאיש שאינו אומר כמוהו הוא פחות מתלמיד בור ולא שייך בו גדר זקן ממרא ורק הוא שאומר דברי בורות יכול להיות זקן ממרא ח”ו ובאמת כי כל התורה שלנו מונחת במוחו בכח זכרונו הנפלא אבל כח הבנתו קטנה מהכיל זה (כי כח הזכרון וכח הבנה באדם הם שני כחות נגדיים זה לזה כידוע), ולכן הוא מבולבל ומשוגע ומקיים מ”ע והיית משוגע בכל פרטיה ודקדוקיה כראוי לצדיק ובגודל חסידותיה הוא מבטל גם דברי הגר”א מווילנא זצ”ל והוא יושב בעינים על הדרך כי תורתו מלאה עינים, עיין עיין, אבל אינה ברה מאירת עינים רק סמיות עינים.
Regarding the Vilna Gaon, I know of only one other figure in the twentieth century who expressed a somewhat critical view of him and that is R. Nahum Ben-Horim. Here is his picture.
  
I found the picture on this website, which is an ongoing translation of the important eight volume Leksikon fun der nayer yidisher literatur, which contains over 7000 names. The translator is Professor Joshua Fogel who, you might be surprised to learn, is not a Yiddishist. He is a professor of Chinese and Japanese history at York University in Toronto. In addition to his numerous publications in Chinese and Japanese Studies (almost fifty books written, translated, or edited), he has also published four volumes on the Talmud. See here. I think readers will find the introduction to his book on Tractate Avodah Zarah particularly interesting. See here. Fogel is just one of the many people whose lives have been enriched by the ArtScroll translation of the Talmud.
Ben-Horim, the author of Hakhmei ha-Talmud (Jerusalem, 1922) on R. Yohanan ben Zakai (among other books), was a very minor figure, but it is interesting nonetheless to see what he had to say. The following is a letter that I found here in the Chaim Bloch papers at the Leo Baeck Institute, AR7155-7156, p. 950.
 

As you can see, he writes as follows about the Vilna Gaon.

והוא בעצמו היה רחוק מאורחא דמהימנותא והראיה כי רדף צדיקים תמימים באף והחרים אותם. הגר”א היה בעל שכל חריף וגאון בידיעות אולם הוא לא היה מעיילי בלא בר לפני ולפנים וטעה והטעה רבים.
When he writes that the Gaon was not מעיילי בלא בר לפני ולפנים, this is a disparaging remark which comes from Sanhedrin 97b and means that the Gaon was not among those “who enter [the heavenly court] without restriction.”
It is also shocking to see Ben-Horim write:
מי שיודע ללמוד מעט או הרבה אסור לו להיות טפש ובעל גאוה וכאלה היו רבים בין הראשונים.
Returning to R. Yudelevitz, here is a picture of him that I previously posted.
He is on the right and R. Gavriel Zev Margulies is on the left. The picture is from 1925 and was taken outside the White House. R. Yudelevitz and R. Margulies were part of a delegation that met with President Calvin Coolidge. For a detailed discussion of R. Yudelevitz and the halitzah controversy, see R. Yoel Hirsch’s Yiddish article here. For another informative article by Hirsch on R. Yudelevitz, see here.
Everyone assumes that the idea of halitzah with an agent originated with R. Yudelevitz. However, R. Isaac Raphael Ashkenazi, the rav of Ancona, refers to this notion in a responsum from 1884.[28] He mentions that the rabbi of Modena (whose name is not mentioned) suggested doing halitzah with an agent. R. Ashkenazi strongly rejects this suggestion:
כי דבר זה מתנגד לפשט הכתובים ולשורש המצוה כאשר יבין בנקל כל מבין
Regarding halitzah, you can see an actual ceremony here and here, with R. Aryeh Ralbag presiding.
* * * * * *
1. It has been a while since I had a quiz, so here goes. In the current post I mentioned the prohibition of Torah study on Tisha be-Av. This is an example where the halakhah of Tisha be-Av is stricter than that of Yom Kippur. Many authorities rule that there is also something else that is forbidden on Tisha be-Av but permitted on Yom Kippur. Answers should be sent to me.
2. In my last post I raised the question as to why Middot and Kinnim are the only Mishnaic tractates included in Daf Yomi. Menachem Kagan, himself a Daf Yomi magid shiur, wrote to me that only these tractates of the Mishnah are included in the Vilna Shas as if they are talmudic tractates, by which I mean that they continue the page numbers of other talmudic tractates. We do not know why these mishnaic tractates were included in the Vilna Shas in this fashion, but this is certainly the reason why they were included in Daf Yomi. As to why only Shekalim from the Jerusalem Talmud is included in Daf Yomi, Kagan correctly notes that by including Shekalim the entire order of Moed is complete.
3. Betzalel Shandelman sent me the title page of a vocalized edition of the Mishnah Berurah. As you can see, R. Moses Rivkes’ name is vocalized as Ravkash. Shandelman also sent me the title page of the Oz ve-Hadar edition of the Mishnah Berurah and it does the same thing. I have never seen this vocalization before and it is incorrect. His name was Rivkes, which is from the word Rivkah, supposedly the name of his mother. Similarly, R. Joel Sirkes was called this, as his mother’s name was Sarah. R. Moses Isserles was called this as his father’s name was Israel. The pattern is clear: Rivkes, Sirkes, Isserles.[29] In each case the final letter is a sin, not a shin.

4. Readers have sometimes asked for a list of places where I will be speaking. It happens that there are a number of places in the next couple of months.
December 1-2, 2017, Shaarey Zedek, Valley Village, CA.
December 15-16, 2017, Ohel Leah, Hong Kong

December 29-30, 2017, Shaare Shalom and Kingsway Jewish Center, Brooklyn. On Saturday night, Dec. 30, 7:30pm at Kingsway Jewish Center I will be speaking on “Are We Really One? Orthodox Separatism from Germany until Today.”

January 5-6, 2018, Young Israel of Holliswood, Queens
January 19-20, 2018, Skylake Synagogue, North Miami Beach.
I will also be at Majestic Retreats’ wonderful Passover program in Fort Lauderdale.

[1] R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Ishim ve-Shitot (Jerusalem, 2007), pp. 75-76. R. Zevin, p. 75, also mentions that the Rogochover learnt Torah on Tisha be-Av.
[2] Alei Tamar, Berakhot, vol. 1, p. 96b.
[3] Orhot Rabbenu: Ba’al ha-“Kehilot Ya’akov” (Bnei Brak, 2001), vol. 4, p. 184.
[4] Nit’ei Gavriel, Avelut, p. 551 (ch. 106). In his discussion, R. Zinner calls attention to the fascinating information in R. Hayyim Karlinsky, Ha-Rishon le-Shoshelet Brisk (Jerusalem, 1984), p. 321, that when R. Joseph Baer Soloveitchik (the Beit ha-Levi) was sitting shiva for his father, he wanted people to tell him Torah insights from his father. When asked if this is not forbidden as Torah study during avelut, R. Soloveitchik replied:
חידושי תורה של הנפטר לא זו בלבד שמותר לבנו האבל לשמוע, אלא אדרבה! מצוה לו לשמעו. שכן מלבד שיש בהם משום זכות לנשמתו של הנפטר . . . הרי הם מגדילים ומרבים את צערו ויגונו של האבל בהעריכו יותר את אבידתו הגדולה בפטירת אביו.
[5] See e.g., R. Avraham Yekutiel Ohev Tziyon, Ya’alat Hen, vol. 1, p. 290; R. Hayyim Kanievsky. Derekh Sihah (Bnei Brak, 2004), 487.
[6] R. Abraham Weinfeld, Lev Avraham, no. 98.
[7] See R. Chaim Rapoport, “Sipurim Temuhim . . .,” Hearot u-Veurim 33:2 (2013), pp. 55-67, for an excellent discussion of the matter.
[8] R. Joseph Karo cites the passage from the Yerushalmi in Beit YosefYoreh Deah 384, but adds that this view was not accepted. Shibolei ha-Leket, ed. Buber (Vilna, 1887), Hilkhot Semahot no. 26 (p. 177), appears to be the only rishon to accept the Yerushalmi’s position. See R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yabia Omer, vol. 2, Yoreh Deah no. 26:3.
[9] R. Hayyim Kanievsky. Derekh Sihah, p. 487, thinks that the Yerushalmi’s position is why the Rogochover studied Torah while sitting shiva, but he did not want to tell people that this was his reason, presumably, because this would seem haughty. There are examples of other great scholars who studied Torah while sitting shiva, and they indeed explained their behavior by citing the Yerushalmi. See e.g., R. David Falk, Be-Torato Yehegeh (Jerusalem, 2012), p. 76. Yet this still remains problematic for some. See e.g., R. Moshe Shulzinger, Peninei Rabenu Yehezkel (Zikhron Meir, 1992), vol. 1, p. 48, who cites an unnamed “gaon” who did not approve of using the heter of the Yerushalmi and commented:
איך אפשר שהדין הנפסק שאבל אסור בת”ת נאמר רק ליושבי קרנות, ולא לת”ח המבינים ומרגישים בתורה כי היא חייהם ולהוטים אחרי’, אתמהה.
It is reported that while sitting shiva, R. Hayyim Soloveitchik studied in depth those Torah subjects that are only permitted to be studied in a perfunctory way. See Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, p. 932. Kamenetsky also quotes R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik that according to R. Hayyim study that is not in depth is not even regarded as Torah study
[10] Speaking of antinomianism, see Yehudah le-Kodsho (Tel Aviv, 2001), vol. 3, pp. 117-118, where the hasidic rebbe R. Shlomo Eger of Lublin writes to the Rogochover arguing that as long as some prayer is said in the morning in the זמן תפילה, one can recite the morning Amidah after this time: יכולין להתפלל אימת שירצה. Unfortunately, we do not have the Rogochover’s response to R. Eger, in which he certainly would have blasted this unprecedented suggestion.
[11] BenayahuBerakhot 24b (p. 8a(.
[12] See Rapoport, “Sipurim Temuhim,” (above, n. 16), pp. 63-64. See ibid., note 50, for the numerous places in the Rebbe’s works where the story is found.
[13] For an interesting hasidic passage that includes Tisha be-Av but focuses on fasting rather than learning Torah, and includes a shocking comment about the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah, see R. Abraham Yelin, Derekh Tzadikim (Petrokov, 1912), pp. 13b-14b (emphasis added):
ושמעתי מחסיד ישיש א’ שנסע להרה”ק ר’ יחזקאל מקאזמיר ז”ל שהוא היה מקיל גדול בתעניות, ואמר שאנשי כנסה”ג שתקנו התעניות מתביישין על שלא הסתכלו בדורות אלו, וסיפר כמה ענינים מקולותיו שהיה קשה לי לכתוב, ובשם רבינו הקדוש ז”ל מפאריסאב שמעתי שאמר בזה”ל מוזהר ועומד אני מהה”ק ר’ נתן דוד ז”ל משידלאווצע לדרוש ברבים ששום אשה שראויה עדיין לילד לא תתענה כ”א ביום הקדוש, ולכן עכ”פ אדרוש זאת לידידיי.
I will deal with fasting in my next post.
[14] See the Vilna Gaon’s commentary and Tiferet Yisrael, ad loc. See also the Vilna Gaon’s commentary to I Chron. 1:4.
[15] Em la-Mikra, Gen. 10:2.
[16] Bayit Ne’eman 41 (17 Kislev 5777), p. 2. R. Mazuz cites R. Benamozegh. See also R. Mazuz, Mi-Gedolei Yisrael, vol. 3, p. 55.
[17] See Excursus 1.
[18] Kohut, Arukh ha-Shalem, s.v. גרמן, also did not know this, as he writes:
הרמב”ם גוזרו מלשון גרם עצם, וקשה להלמו!
[19] There are two “volume 1” of the Tzafnat Paneah. The one I refer to is the volume published by Mrs. Rachel Citron, the Rogochover’s daughter.
[20] See Yair Borochov, Ha-Rogochovi (n.p., n.d.), p. 179, for a report that the Rogochover suggested that the head pains he suffered from were punishment for perhaps having treated rishonim and aharonim without the proper respect. There is something very strange in this book on p. 176, which is cited מפי השמועה (see sources on p. 419). Borochov states that the Rogochover’s opinion was that Muslims are worshipers of avodah zarah, as they worship the moon! This is so absurd that it is difficult to believe that the Rogochover could have said it. Borochov then states:
והגאון המשיך: הרמב”ם לא פסק שהם עובדי עבודה זרה, כיוון שהוא התגורר בארצות האיסלם ופסק כזה היה בגדר סכנה ופיקוח נפש.
It is simply impossible to believe that the Rogochover could have said something so outlandish.
[21] See Excursus 2.
[22] Regarding the Rogochover’s harsh comments about other great Torah scholars, and how he referred to these scholars,  Zevuluni writes:

  התבטאויותיו החריפות כלפי רבים מגדולי התורה בדורו ואף בדורות הקודמים, לא גרמו בדרך כלל למרירות ולנטירת  איבה . . . הוא היה נוהג לקרוא לגדולי הדור ואף בדורות הקודמים בשמותיהם הפרטיים

Zevuluni records the following story that he heard from the Rogochover. The Rogochover was once a dayan in a large monetary dispute. After a compromise was reached, the litigants put a significant amount of money on the table as payment to the dayanim. The other two dayanim refused to take the money and the Rogochover therefore took it all. He explained that the Talmud, Hagigah 4a, states: “Who is [deemed] an imbecile (shoteh)? One that destroys all that is given to him.” The Rogochover said that one would have expected the Talmud to say, “One that destroys all that he has” rather than “all that is given to him.” From here, the Rogochover stated, there is a proof that if someone gives you something and you refuse to accept it, that you are an imbecile. The Rogochover added, “I do not want to to included in this category.”

Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, also records comments of the Rogochover about other Torah scholars. See e.g., p. 743 n. i, that in 1934 the Rogochover said that there is no one in Eretz Yisrael who knows how to learn.

Interestingly, on p. 739, Kamenetsky quotes his father that R. Hayyim Soloveitchik and R. David Friedman of Karlin were greater scholars than the Rogochover.

[23] I discuss this matter in Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, pp. 152-153, and in “Torah im Derekh Eretz in the Shadow of Hitler,” Torah u-Madda Journal 14 (2006-2007), pp. 85-86.
[24] In Modern Hebrew the word מעין is pronounced ma’ayan, as if there is a patah under the ayin. In reality, there is a sheva under the ayin. See Yehoshua Blau, “Al ha-Mivneh ha-Murkav shel ha-Ivrit ha-Hadashah le-Umat ha-Ivrit she-ba-Mikra,”Leshonenu 54 (2000), pp. 105-106.
[25] See Fixler, “Perush ha-Rambam le-Milim ha-Yevaniyot she-ba-Mishnah,” Asif 2: Tanakh u-Mahashavah (2015), pp. 384-393.
[26] Rashi’s explanation is not without problems. See R. Weinberg, Seridei Esh, vol. 3, p. 87.
[27] R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim also was very critical of the Rogochover, yet any such comments have been censored in his published writings. However, one passage was published from manuscript in Shmuel Koll, Ehad be-Doro (Tel Aviv, 1970), vol. 1, p. 202:

 והרב ר’ יוסף ראזין נ”י הנקרא הראגאצובער מדינאבורג, אמר שדברי הח”ס הם דברי שטות – ונבהלתי לשמוע קלות הדעת ממי שהוא רב יושב כסאות למשפט הוראה לדבר דברים כאלה על אור עולם הח”ס ז”ל, אשר בצדקתו ורוחב לבבו כפתחו של אולם הוא כאחד הראשונים ומי כמוהו מורה בכל חדרי תורה, ובעוה”ר רבו הקופצים בראש שלא למדו כל צרכן, ולא שימשו כל עיקר שמוש ת”ח, אשר לחד מ”ד עדיין הוא ע”ה כבברכות מ”ז ב’, חבל על דאית לי’ דרתא ותרעה לדרתי’ ל”ע, ואף למאן דל”ל גם דרתא
[28] VaYa’an Yitzhak, Even ha-Ezer, no. 15.
[29] When I say “the pattern” I mean the pronunciation of the first syllable, as Isserles was actually probably pronounced “Israls.” The final “s” is a possessive so Moses Israls (Isserles) = “Moses of Israel”, Joel Sirkes = “Joel of Sirka (Sarah), and Moses Rivkes = “Moses of Rivkah.” See R. Hayyim Yitzhak Cohen’s letter in Or Yisrael 45 (Tishrei 5767), p. 252. Other surnames that come from a female progenitor are, as Shimon Steinmetz reminded me, Chajes, Edels, and Pesseles. I assume that Perles is also to be included in this list. I do not know about the name Fleckeles, but there is a place in Germany called Fleckl, so that might be the origin.



Hasidism in America

Hasidism in America

Marc B. Shapiro
There is a tape of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik in the 1950s saying that there is no real Hasidism in the United States. He says that he saw real Hasidism in Warsaw, and America does not have it. When the Rav made this statement, I think most non-hasidim would have agreed that Hasidism did not have any real future in the United States. The 1950s was a time when the focus was on the melting pot. In such an era, Hasidism would have been as out of place in wider American society as Muslim women walking down the streets of New York City or Los Angeles wearing hijabs. How things have changed!
There are many reasons for the great success of Hasidism in the United States, among them the turn to multiculturalism which has made the public square more welcoming of a variety of lifestyles. The coarsening of the wider culture has also pushed religious people to a more inward direction, and those looking to escape from this culture can easily be drawn towards Hasidism. Also important is that for many young hasidim the wider culture does not have the same draw it once did. And for those who do want to be part of the wider culture, in today’s day and age one can be a hasid and live a much more open life, even if only virtually, then people did a generation or two ago. The rise of the welfare state has also been crucial to hasidic growth, as without the welfare state hasidic communities as we know them would be unsustainable.[1] Finally, there is one other element that has been important to hasidic growth, and also to its fracturing, and that is the leadership that has been able to provide guidance in post-war America.

Samuel Heilman’s engrossing new book discusses this very point, that of leadership. Its title is Who Will Lead Us? The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America, and it is required reading for anyone interested in the contemporary hasidic world.

The dynasties Heilman focuses on are Munkács, Boyan, Bobov, Satmar, and Lubavitch. There is also an introductory chapter on succession in Hasidism which itself is an important issue. I do not know if people in the hasidic world give it much thought, but for non-hasidim the whole matter of succession is somewhat strange, since by what right should a son (sometimes even a very young son) or son-in-law be able to take over religious leadership? Very few outsiders will be impressed with the hasidic concept of “holy seed,” as in the non-hasidic world, at least until recent years, it was understood that one rises to greatness based on one’s own achievements, not based on who one’s father was (though that always helps). It is thus interesting to learn that in the early years of Hasidism the concept of family succession did not exist.[2] Yet as we all know, for many years now succession has been based on lineage and in that way the hasidic court is just like the royal court.[3] (I was struck by Heilman’s use of the term “dowager” to describe the widow of the rebbe. I have never seen the term used in this way but is a good usage.) Of course, there have been times when there were disputes as to who should be the rightful successor, and this always had the potential to lead to a split in a hasidic group, a point we will return to.
Heilman was fortunate that he “was helped immensely by several rebbes who graciously consented to be interviewed and who for long hours and over many months and years opened their lives to me” (p. xv). Some readers might find it strange for a rebbe to be so open with an academic researcher, but it shows that at least some rebbes are interested that academic discussions about them be accurate, and that their perspectives be taken into account.[4]
Heilman’s chapter dealing with Munkács is riveting, and never before has the story been told in print. By “story,” I have in mind the life of R. Baruch (Boruchel) Rabinowitz, the rebbe of Munkács, who did what is almost unheard of, namely, giving up his “rebbeship.” Freed from this role, he was able to become more “modern” and publicly abandon the anti-Zionism so much associated with his father-in-law, R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, his predecessor as rebbe of Munkács. While living as a rabbi in Brazil (the “chief rabbi” of São Paulo), he even acceded to his new wife’s wishes to get a dog (which he himself walked). He read widely in secular literature, earned a university degree in philosophy and psychology, and taught philosophy at the University of São Paulo. (p. 51).
While some have seen the Holocaust as changing R. Baruch’s outlook, it appears that this is not entirely the case. As Heilman informs us (p. 44), during the Munkácser Rebbe’s famous 1930 trip to the Land of Israel, in which R. Baruch the future son-in-law accompanied him, R. Baruch snuck out at night to meet secretly with R. Yaakov Moshe Charlop, the leading follower of R. Kook. (Heilman refers to R. Charlop as head of Yeshivat Merkaz ha-Rav, but that would only happen after R. Kook’s death.) This shows that already in his youth he had a much broader perspective than his future father-in-law.
By the time his metamorphosis is complete, it appears that R. Baruch should be categorized as a Religious Zionist – or perhaps even a Modern Orthodox – rabbi. There is a picture in the book of him with Ben Gurion. Unfortunately, Heilman does not identify the other rabbi in the picture – R. Shlomo Goren. Here is another picture of R. Baruch in the Sinai desert after the 1967 war.[5]

Because R. Baruch had given up the role of rebbe, this meant that it was to pass to his son. Yet R. Baruch did not seem too happy about this and appears to have never regarded it as a real option, as he did not raise any of his sons to become a rebbe. Heilman does a wonderful job describing how it came to pass that the young Moshe Leib became the rebbe. The story he tells is also one of great sadness, of a deep human tragedy, as in the end there was a complete break between R. Baruch and three of his children from his first marriage (which includes the current Munkácser Rebbe), even to the extent of R. Baruch forbidding them to attend his funeral or to say Kaddish for him. (You can see R. Baruch’s letter here.)  Is there anything more tragic for a family than this?
While it is often stated that the hasidim rejected R. Baruch because he became a Zionist, the truth is that he rejected them, in that he chose not to continue as the rebbe. The bitter and public break with his children was a real family tragedy, but it is difficult to read the book and not conclude that the fault for this lay in R. Baruch’s unresolved issues – Heilman speaks of “Oedipal overtones” (p. 63) – seen most vividly in R. Baruch’s shocking behavior at R. Moshe Leib’s wedding. The result of all this is that R. Baruch has been completely erased from Munkács history and has no significance to the movement. When a book with his approbation is reprinted, such as R. Joseph Lustig’s Amudei Esh le-Veit Yosef, it is not surprising that the approbation is removed. Here is the title page of the edition with the approbation removed.

Despite the family tragedy, it must be said that R. Baruch’s son and successor, R. Moshe Leib, has been remarkably successful in leading a revival of the dynasty. He has also played a role in wider Jewish affairs, both publicly and behind the scenes, and is a fine example of what a successful rebbe can be.
Let me add a few more points about R. Baruch that are not mentioned in Heilman’s book. One might have assumed that as R. Baruch became more modern he would distance himself from his father-in-law, a man very much identified with extremism. But that did not happen. Until the end of his life he continued to display awe for R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira. In Binat Nevonim (2012 ed.) pp. 153-154, he defends R. Shapira against the accusation that he was a “ba’al machloket.” What about his well-known attacks against the Religious Zionists and those non-Zionist Orthodox who wished to go on aliyah intending to work the land?[6] R. Baruch explains, very unconvincingly, that R. Shapira reacted the way he did because he hoped that the Messiah would soon arrive and people would then be able to immigrate to the Land of Israel without confronting any irreligiosity. R. Baruch’s own opinion comes a few pages later, p. 157, where he writes that the ingathering of Jews, including non-religious, to the Land of Israel is a fulfillment of biblical prophecy. Only later will God send His Holy Spirit to purify the people from all of its sins, and then He will send the Messiah. Such a perspective is very much at odds with what R. Shapira advocated.
Interestingly, in dealing with the accusation that his father-in-law was a “ba’al machloket,” R. Baruch says nothing about R. Shapira’s battles against the Agudah and its rabbis,[7] or his battles against non-Agudah rabbis and rebbes, in particular the Spinka Rebbe, R. Isaac Eizik Weiss, and the Belzer Rebbe, R. Yissachar Dov Rokeah. In the latter case, R. Shapira’s actions were very extreme, and it was alleged that he even attempted to get the government to expel the Belzer Rebbe from the city.[8] He attacked the Belzer Rebbe personally and referred to his hasidim as חזירי בעלז.[9] His attacks on Belz did not stop even after the Belzer Rebbe’s death, and the Belzer community of Munkács decided to separate from the wider Orthodox community of the city which was controlled by R. Shapira.[10] Since they were not legally allowed to create another Orthodox community, they officially became the Neolog community of Munkács. Although they were as distant from the Neologs as their persecutor, R. Shapira, declaring themselves as Neolog was the only way for them to create their own community which would be recognized by the government.[11]
In Binat Nevonim, pp 173-174, we see very clearly R. Baruch’s Religious Zionist feelings. He reviews the modern growth of the Land of Israel beginning with the early immigrations, and mentions how Jews hoped that this growth was the beginning of the redemption. He even states that the British did not live up to their expected role when they removed a large part of biblical Israel from the Jewish homeland. Could anything be further from the old Munkács approach than the following words from R. Baruch, after summarizing the various nineteenth-century attempts to build up the Land of Israel (p. 174)?
הארץ השוממה מתחילה לנשום ולהחיות מחדש. היא מתחילה להעלות תקווה בלב יושבי הארץ ובלב העם היהודי כולו, שהנה הגיע הזמן של שיבת ציון של חזון הגאולה לעם ישראל ולחזון הגאולה לכל העמים שעם יהודי נשא בקרבו מאז אברהם אבינו דרך הנביאים עד היום הזה.
He recognizes that we have not yet reached the end of the road, but like any Religious Zionist he is confident that the time is coming when the State of Israel will live up to its promise (p. 176):
עם ישראל, זה הנולד לגדולות ולנצורות, לא בדור הזה שהוא כדורו של דוד המלך ייהפך לאור לגויים, לא בדור הזה יהפוך את מדינתו למדינה לדוגמא. אבל יבוא הדור, דור שיהיה דומה לדורו של שלמה, דור שידע מנוחה, דור שלא יצטרך לנהל מלחמות, דור שידע להעמיד את כח החכמה לפני כח הגבורה – והדור הזה יקים את המדינה לדוגמא, מדינה שבה מדע התורה, המוסר, והצדק, והשוויון ישמשו תשתית לחיי האנושות, ואז יבוא משיח צדקנו, נצר דוד מלכנו ומציון תצא תורה ודבר ה’ מירושלים.
In discussing the Holocaust, R. Baruch states that we cannot ask why God was silent and did not hear the cries of the millions of victims (p. 158). He strongly rejects the notion that the Holocaust, which was an unparalleled national suffering, can be explained as due to any particular sins (p. 198). Regarding the Holocaust, it is also important to mention that R. Baruch was very involved in the efforts to save Hungarian Jewry.[12]
Returning to Heilman, the story of Boyan, which he tells with great skill, did not have the conflict and tragic aspects that were described in the chapter on Munkács. Yet here too we find the same theme, namely, a dynasty without an obvious successor. And again, we see that with the right man, and with proper guidance from the hasidic elders, he can grow into the role. As with Munkács, the Boyaner Rebbe has blossomed into a respected rebbe, either overcoming his more modern background (as some would say), or using this background to allow him to better understand the Jewish people as a whole.
For those interested in conflict in religious life, the chapters on Bobov and Satmar, focusing on the split in these movements, provide plenty of that. In fact, even before the dispute over who would be the current Satmar rebbe, conflict was a basic feature of Satmar life already in Europe. Heilman writes, “For Satmar hasidim conflicts served as a form of socialization and identity formation. . . . [T]his relish for conflict, framed as a steadfast ideological purity, would become the essential identity of Satmar Hasidism.” (pp. 163, 164)
In addition to discussing the conflicts over succession, Heilman also provides the necessary background to understand matters. Thus, in the chapter on Bobov, long before we get to the conflict that led to the split in the movement, Heilman reviews the history of Bobov, its fate during the Holocaust, and its rebirth after the war. Heilman does the same in all of the chapters, allowing readers to appreciate the unique aspects of each of the different Hasidic groups. In his chapter on Satmar, here is how Heilman summarizes what defined this group for its rebbe, R. Joel Teitelbaum.
The struggle to remain apart as well as distinctive and to argue that these positions were the only and authentic way of being Jewish not only made Yoelish’s followers feel that they were part of a great cause and the true defenders of Jewry and Judaism but made Satmarism and its inventor a kind of model for what steadfast Orthodox Judaism was meant to be, a vanguard of contra-acculturation and authenticity. Second, he had to make sure that his educational system did not provide his hasidim with the skills that would make leaving the enclave easy. Third, he had to demonize the world outside so that his followers would either be afraid of entering it or be confident that their own ways were infinitely superior. (p. 173)
I would like to add a few final comments and corrections.
I am not sure why Heilman includes a chapter on Chabad. While obviously the story here is not the fight over succession but the fact that there has not been a succession, for those who read Heilman’s and Menachem Friedman’s biography of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the material in Who Will Lead Us? focusing on R. Menachem Mendel is not new. The first half of the chapter deals with prior Lubavitcher rebbes, not really the focus of the book which deals with the American scene, but helpful to understanding later events.[13]
It seems that spending so much time among the hasidim has led some of their hagiography to rub off on Heilman. How else to explain his statements that R. Baruch knew Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed by heart (p. 42) and R. Joel Teitelbaum “was able to review a folio of Talmud at age five” (p. 156)? Both of these men were scholars, and thus the hagiography focuses on their scholarship. I would be interested to know if in the hagiography about current rebbes, and in particular the ones discussed by Heilman, is scholarship even mentioned. Do current hasidim even assume that their rebbes are great Torah scholars?
In the preface, p. xiv, Heilman tells us that he will look at five different successions. In Munkács and Boyan a successor was lacking. In Bobov and Satmar two individuals claimed the throne. In Habad, the “hasidim denied a need for a successor at all, claiming that their rebbe had never really died.” While it is true that the Habad hasidim have no interest in a successor, there is only a very small number who claim that the Rebbe did not die (and thus they do not go to his grave). The mainstream messianist view is that the Rebbe indeed died and will be resurrected as the Messiah.[14] Even those who do not write זצ”ל or זי”ע do not deny that the Rebbe died and was buried. Yet they assume that his soul is still involved in this world and as such they do not want to treat him as someone who has passed from the scene.
P. 58. Heilman writes that the Lubavitcher Rebbe “claimed to have attended the Sorbonne and other European universities.” (p. 58) I do not understand the use of the word “claimed,” as it appears to cast doubt on what the Rebbe said. Yet in Heilman’s book, The Rebbe, he himself mentions that the Rebbe was a registered student at both the University of Berlin and the Sorbonne.
Pp. 85-86. Heilman states that R. Yerucham Gorelick “came from Slutzk, Belarus, and had studied in the famous non-Hasidic yeshiva there.” This is incorrect as R. Gorelick studied in Lomza, Radin, and also in Brisk, but not in Slutzk. In fact, in 1923 (when R. Gorelick was twelve years old) the Slutzk yeshiva moved to Kletzk.
P. 169. In discussing the Kasztner train and the inclusion in it of the Satmar Rebbe, Heilman writes: “Kasztner was persuaded, after someone paid a ‘huge sum,’ to include Yoelish and some of those connected to him among the 1670 in the train.” Why the leading anti-Zionist, R. Joel Teitelbaum, was included on the Kasztner train is a question that has never been convincingly answered. A popular legend is that Kasztner’s mother appeared to him in a dream and requested that he include the Rebbe. Yet even if this explains why the Rebbe was included, there were also other anti-Zionist rabbis who were on the train, which was a microcosm of larger Hungarian Jewish society.[15]
Before reading Heilman’s book, I had never heard that it was only money that enabled the Rebbe to be rescued. The source Heilman provides for this is a Satmar biography of the Rebbe that relied on an item that appeared in the Satmar paper Der Yid. These are precisely the sorts of sources that have to be used very carefully, and in many cases are simply useless if one is trying to find out the truth. At the very least, Heilman should have written that it is “alleged” that someone paid a huge sum, rather than state it as fact. One of the “problems” of the Satmar Rebbe’s biography is that despite being saved by the Zionist Kasztner, there is no evidence of the Rebbe ever having expressed any gratitude towards Kasztner or the Zionists as a whole for saving his life, something that has often troubled people. However, if the only reason the Rebbe was on the train was because of a simple monetary transaction, then he would have no reason to feel grateful to Kasztner or the Zionists. To put it another way, there is good reason for Satmar writers to portray the event this way in order to burnish the reputation of the Rebbe. As such, the unsubstantiated report Heilman relies on here must be treated with a great deal of suspicion.
The hasidic world is obviously of great significance in Orthodoxy. There are so many different hasidic groups that just when I think I know them all, I see an article about another rebbe whom I have never heard of. In fact, some years ago someone produced a “yellow pages” of all the hasidic rebbes. There are 554 listed, and by now no doubt a few more need to be added. Here is the first page.
There are significantly more rebbes now than a hundred years ago. Marcin Wodzinski has written that “there were approximately three hundred tsaddikim active in 1900.”[16]
What I know from friends in the hasidic world is that there are also people who should be regarded as “independent hasidim.” I first heard this expression a few years ago in Budapest where I became friendly with a visiting American hasid. When I asked him which group he was part of, he replied, “independent.”
Here was a man who looked like a hasid, who considered himself a hasid, who valued the hasidic way of life, and yet he did not have a rebbe. Since then I have met other “independent hasidim,” and their story is pretty much the same. They grew up as hasidim and love Hasidut, but they do not find any of the rebbes appealing. Some of them have also seen things that caused them to be disillusioned with the contemporary rebbes. They do not deny the value of a rebbe, and believe that great rebbes existed in the past. It is just that today they do not see such figures.
I would love to see an article dealing with the phenomenon of the independent hasidim. Is this something that can continue in a family over generations, or is it a one generation event, with the children brought up in such a family generally joining a hasidic group or linking up with the yeshiva world? Interestingly, Wodzinski notes the existence of independent hasidim around the time of World War I, and I wonder when they first appeared. In Wodzinski’s words: “During the war and after it, shtiblekh sprang up, gathering the half-rejects and half-deserts from the Hasidic world, shtiblekh unaffiliated with any court.”[17]
The independent hasidim should be distinguished from what Wodzinski has termed “à la carte Hasidism.” This is a phenomenon that also existed in the early twentieth century, and consisted of “young Hasidim who sampled different courts, picking various festivals with different tsaddikim depending on individual taste or indeed on the way different tsaddikim enacted different elements of Hasidic ritual.”[18]
Another point of interest which has not yet been analyzed is the position of the rebbe when he was still a child and teenager. Heilman’s book discusses this with regard to the current Munkácser Rebbe, but when he was young there was not yet an expectation that he would become the rebbe. What about those who knew that they would become rebbe. What type of childhood did they have? Did they have friends like other children, or were they regarded as too special to mix with the masses? And how about when they were teenagers and realized the significance of their fathers, who served as rebbes? It would be fascinating to hear from current rebbes about how they experienced childhood and young adulthood. People often forget that even the most important figures were once young and enjoyed the same sort of fun that all young people do. I actually have a photo of a young Shlomo Halberstam (1907-2000) in his bathing suit having fun in a lake. Heilman discusses in detail his experiences during the war and how after the war he rebuilt the Bobov dynasty, a task that fell to him as his father, R. Ben Zion, was murdered by the Nazis.[19] Yet the photo I just mentioned reminds us that even future rebbes were able to enjoy themselves like everyone else.
* * * * * *
Since this post deals with Hasidism, it is a good place to call attention to an unfortunate example of censorship in the writings of the Hatam Sofer. Here is the title page of volume 2 of the Derashot of the Hatam Sofer, first published by R. Joseph Naphtali Stern in 1929. R. Stern’s edition is based on the Hatam Sofer’s own manuscripts.

Beginning on p. 371a one can find the eulogy for the Hatam Sofer’s teacher, R. Nathan Adler. On p. 373a, in speaking of the great piety of R. Adler, the Hatam Sofer writes: ולא כחסידי הזמן ח”ו.


Now take a look at the Pressburg 1881 edition of Torat Moshe, Va-Yikra, p. 41b. You can see that the words ולא כחסידי הזמן ח”ו do not appear. It is not known if the publisher was responsible for this censorship, as he informs us in the introduction to volume 1 that some of what appears in the book was copied from the Hatam Sofer’s manuscripts and sent to him.

And while on the topic of censorship, here is another example dealing with a leading student of the Hatam Sofer, R. Moses Schick. Here is Derashot Maharam Schick, p. 30b, published in Cluj around 1936.[20]

You can see that he mentions Wessely’s Yein Levanon. Now take a look at the Derashot Maharam Schick published in Jerusalem, 2003.

As you can see, the reference to Yein Levanon has been removed. R. Moses Schick believed that Yein Levanon was a fine book, worthy of being quoted. However, the publisher thought differently. Ironically, the new edition was published by Makhon Maharam Schick. Here is the title page

So we have a publishing institute named after R. Moses Schick, and the people who run it would no doubt insist that they have the greatest respect for R. Schick. Yet this respect does not include respecting the sanctity of what he actually wrote.

R. Moses Schick refers to Wessely’s comment to Avot 1:1. In the new edition of Yein Levanon (Rishon le-Tzion, 2003), p. 44, the editor points out that R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary to Avot 1:1, also cites Wessely by name. While this comment appears uncensored in the English translation of Hirsch’s commentary, in the Hebrew translation Wessely’s name has been replaced by “one of the commentators.” The editor adds: “The translators think that they are wiser  and more understanding than R. Samson Raphael Hirsch.”

* * * * * *
In Changing the Immutable, p. 211, I write that R. Hayyim Vital “records” and “mentions” certain negative information about Israel Najara. Yitzy Weinberg commented to me that I neglected to state a very important point, namely, the source of R Vital’s information. Weinberg feels, and others probably do as well, that knowing the source is important, since if R. Vital recorded information that he had personal knowledge of it would have more significance than if it came from another source.

Before coming to this point, I must note from a modern perspective, it is hard not to conclude that R. Vital was overly credulous. He was ready to believe the most far-fetched tales of angels, demons, magic, spirit possession, and exorcisms, and has no reticence in describing personal experiences with some of these things. He himself was even possessed by a powerful evil spirit. Morris M. Faierstein has recently discussed this episode and reaches the following striking conclusion: “Within the universe of Lurianic Kabbalah and the stories found in Vital’s mystical diary, the Book of Visions [Sefer Hezyonot], it can only be Jesus of Nazareth who was the evil spirit that possessed Hayyim Vital.”[21] 

Knowing all this, I do not believe that the information about Najara quoted by R. Vital should be accepted at face value,[22] especially when the charges made (homosexual behavior and sexual relations with a non-Jewish woman) are so serious. I would say this even if the ultimate source of this information was R. Vital himself.[23] 
Nevertheless, I agree that I should have mentioned that the information recorded by R. Vital came from a spirit that had entered a woman (a phenomenon that only after R. Vital’s time came to be known as a dybbuk[24]). Furthermore, in the book I noted: “Because of this, Vital wrote that ‘the hymns that he has composed are themselves good, but whoever speaks to him and whatever leaves his mouth is forbidden, because he always used foul languages and was a drunkard his whole life.’” This too is a statement from the spirit.
Among the information revealed by the spirit was that “between the fast days,” Najara “prepared a meal at that hour at the house of Jacob Monides, put his hat on the ground, sang songs in a loud voice, ate meat, drank wine, and even became drunk.”[25] R. Vital writes that Najara admitted that this incident occurred, meaning that in this case R. Vital wants us to know that the spirit spoke the truth. R. Vital does not record asking Najara about the spirit’s more serious accusations, and he would have told us if he had.[26]
Despite what I have just written, some seem to assume that everything that appears in R. Vital’s Sefer ha-Hezyonot must be attributed to himself, even if he attributes it to a spirit. Thus, Lawrence Fine writes: “In his dream diary, Vital alleges that Israel Najara engaged in homosexual behavior in his drunkenness, and contends, in connection with Damascus, that ‘there is much homosexuality . . . in this land.’”[27] As you can see, Fine does not mention the spirit but states that “Vital alleges.”
Another example is that Israel Zinberg writes that “Vital declares,” and then cites the passage I quoted in my book, which first appeared in Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital.[28] “The hymns that he has composed are themselves good, but whoever speaks to him and whatever leaves his mouth is forbidden, because he always used foul language and was a drunkard his whole life.” Zinberg does not mention the spirit.
Avraham Amazleg writes as follows (emphasis added)[29]:
שם רח”ו גם בפי הרוח דברי גנאי וביקורת על נג’ארה. רח”ו או הרוח אמנם מודים שהפזמונים שהוא חיבר הם טובים, אבל אסור לאומרם או לדבר עם המחבר, כי פיו דובר נבלה, וממילא הוא שיכור כל ימיו.
Almog Behar writes[30]:
המקובל רבי חיים ויטאל, תלמיד האר”י, בן תקופתו, כתב עליו ב”ספר החזיונות” שלו.
I could bring a number of additional examples where the words of the spirit are attributed to R. Vital, but I think readers get the point.
Although in all texts of Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital Najara’s name was deleted – it first appeared in the 1954 edition of R. Vital’s Sefer ha-Hezyonot – it was not too difficult for Zinberg and others to figure out who was being referred to. R. Moses Sofer appears to have also been aware of the passage in Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital, or perhaps there even was an oral tradition about the more serious charges against Najara that only appeared in print in 1954. I say this because when asked by his son why he did not sing Najara’s spiritually moving Y-ah Ribon, the Hatam Sofer replied: “Rather than telling you why I do not sing it, it is better to sing it.” From that point on he sang Y-ah Ribon.[31]
* * * * * *
R. Yechiel Goldhaber is well known as an outstanding scholar, whose many publications are always enlightening.[32] Not many know that he also offers tours of the Old City of Jerusalem. Having had the pleasure of participating in one of his tours, I highly recommend it to all who are interested in the history of Jerusalem (which I believe includes all Seforim Blog readers).
My own Torah in Motion tours to Europe in summer 2018 have also been announced. You can read about them here.

The young scholars R. Yisachar Dov Hoffman and R. Ovadiah Hoffman are known to many Seforim Blog readers. R. Yisachar has authored Avodat Ovadiah which focuses on practices of R. Ovadiah Yosef. R. Ovadiah Hoffman is a Seforim Blog contributor, and both of them have published three volumes of Ha-Mashbir, dedicated to studies on R. Ovadiah Yosef. I think readers will be interested to know about an event they are organizing to commemorate the yahrzeit of R. Ovadiah Yosef. It is to take place on Sunday, October 22, 2017, from 6:25pm-9pm (refreshments available), followed by maariv. It will be an evening of shiurim dealing with contemporary halakhic issues and reflections on the legacy of R. Ovadiah Yosef. It will be held at Beis Midrash Kerem Shlomo, 1880 East 27th Street (between Ave. R and S), in Brooklyn. The scheduled speakers are R. Herschel Schachter, R. Aryeh Ralbag, R. Yitzchok Yisraeli, and R. Betzalel Rudinsky. It promises to be a fascinating evening.

[1] See Heilman, Who Will Lead Us, p. 193, where he mentions that in 1984, under the leadership of R. Moshe Teitelbaum, the Satmar were officially designated by the government as a “disadvantaged minority, which allowed them access to various government benefits.”
[2] R. Hayyim Halberstam, Divrei Hayyim,vol. 2,  Hoshen Mishpat. no. 32, writes against the practice of family succession when it comes to the Rebbe, and contrasts this with the position of town rav where there is such a concept:
ועל דבר ירושת הכבוד הנה במח”ת כ”ת הבוררים הרבנים וכי רבני החסידים שליטתם בתורת משרה כמו רב שבנו קודם הלא ידוע שהקדוש ר”א ואביו הק’ זלה”ה לא היו רבנים ורק מחמת גודל קדושתם ויראתם נשמעו דבריהם לכל הגליל וינהו אחריהם ללמוד תורה ויראה מהם גם נתנו להם נדבות לכבד יראי השם כמותם ירבו בישראל ושאלו עצות כאשר ישאל איש בדבר אלקים כי היו בעלי רוח הקודש ותפלתם ודיבורם בקדושה עשו פרי ומה נעשה אם הבאים אחריהם אין בהם קדושה זו. מה ירשו לשאול עצה דעת אין בהם. אם להתפלל מי יודע העולה למעלה לא ידעתי שום צד ירושה בזה. והנה מצינו למופת כגון הרב הקדוש איש אלקים רשכבה”ג מו”ה דוב בער זלה”ה ממעזריטש השאיר הגדולה לתלמידיו הרב הק’ מברדישטוב ומאור עינים ואור המאיר זלה”ה, וכן רבו הבעש”ט הניח המשרה זו לתלמידיו לא לבנו שהי’ קדוש ה’ וכן רבינו הקדוש בעהמ”ח נועם אלימלך הניח המשרה לתלמידיו לא לבנו הגם שהיו קדושים למאד כידוע לכן אין בזה שום ירושה ורק מעשיו יקרבוהו ומעשיו ירחקוהו.
[3] In R. Zvi Yehudah Kook’s recently published Sihot R. Zvi Yehudah: Emunah, ed. S. Aviner (Jerusalem, 2017), p. 200, Berdyczewski is quoted explaining what led him to abandon traditional Judaism. In short, it was seeing how his learned grandfather had to humble himself before a young rebbe. While Hasidism and attachment to a (worthy) rebbe are wonderful things, one should always remember what R. Kook states in Orot, p. 146, about the possible dangers:

הדבקות בצדיקים, כדי שיתערב כח המציאות שבנשמתם עם הנשמה הבלתי-נשלמת, היא דבר נכבד מאד במהלך התפתחות הנפשות, אבל צריך שמירה גדולה, שאם יטעה בצדיק אחד, וידבק בו דבקות פנימים הויתית, וידבק ג”כ בחסרונותיו, הם יפעלו לפעמים על הדבק במדה גרועה הרבה ממה שהם פועלים על האיש המקורי. אשריהם ישראל שהם דבקים בנשמת האומה, שהיא טוב מוחלט, לשאוב על ידה אור ד’ הטוב

[4] Heilman never mentions a rebbe by name as his source, but on p. 53, in quoting the recollections of an unnamed family member, it is the Munkácser Rebbe who is being quoted. There were only two family members who were present at the event discussed, the Rebbe (R. Moshe Leib) and his brother, Chaim Elazar. Since Chaim Elazar spoke on the record and on numerous occasions is mentioned by name as the source for information, the “unnamed family member” must be the Rebbe himself. The Rebbe must also be the source for the information on pp. 57-58, where Heilman records what R. Baruch told the young Moshe Leib, including his recommendation that Moshe Leib attend university. Heilman also mentions what Moshe Leib told his father: “Today, if someone puts a college diploma on his wall, his rebistve is finished.”
[5] The picture comes from this article. For a bar mitzvah video made by one of R. Baruch’s grandsons, see here.
[6] See Yitzhak Alfasi, Ha-Hasidut ve-Eretz Yisrael (Jerusalem, 2010), pp. 175-176; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The Case of Hungary 1868-1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (October 2016), 8pp. 232-233.
[7] As part of his battle against the Agudah, he also took on Daf Yomi which in his mind was simply ridiculous:

טפשות וצחוק מכאיב
“For how can one learn a page every day when the pages almost always end in the middle of a subject.” Divrei Torah (Brooklyn, 1998), vol. 6, no. 82. Elsewhere he explained that the great danger in joining a Daf Yomi group is that one might be led to adopt the Agudat Israel ideology, “and Heaven forbid to join with them.” Iggerot Shapirin (Brooklyn, 1983), p. 319. He also accused the Agudah of initiating the Daf Yomi in order to have at its disposal ready-made groups that could be used to colonize the Land of Israel. See Sha’ar Yisaschar (Brooklyn, 1992), p. 382.
For other examples of rabbinic opposition to Daf Yomi, due to its association with Agudat Israel, see Tikun Olam (Munkács, 1936), p. 106; Aharon Rosenberg, ed., Mishkenot ha-Ro’im (New York, 1987), vol. 3, pp. 901-902; Nitzotzei Or 3 (Elul, 5758), pp. 33-41. While I do not think that R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik can be called an opponent of Daf Yomi, I was present at a shiur in the summer of 1985 where he expressed his dismay that due to the growing popularity of Daf Yomi, people were no longer studying all six orders of the Mishnah, much of which has no Talmud and is thus not included in the Daf Yomi cycle. (For reasons that are unclear, Middot and Kinnim are the only tractates of Mishnah included in Daf Yomi.)
[8] See Yeshayahu A. Jelinek, The Carpathian Diaspora: The Jews of Subcarpathian Rus’ and Mukavchevo, 1848-1948 (New York, 2007), p. 172; Shmuel ha-Kohen Weingarten, “Pulmus Munkács-Belz,” in Yehudah Erez, ed., Entziklopedyah shel Galuyot: Karpatoros (Jerusalem-Tel Aviv, 1959), p. 230; and my Changing the Immutable (Oxford, 2015), p. 229.
[9] See Weingarten, “Pulmus Munkács-Belz,” p. 230.
[10] Not surprisingly, this dispute led to violence. The topic of violence, which has been a part of certain hasidic courts, is worthy of a study. Let me offer a few relevant sources. There is a report of hasidim murdering a mitnaged. See Mordechai Wilensky, Hasidim u-Mitnagdim (Jerusalem, 1970), vol. 2, p. 178. This report, contained in the early anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im, includes names and places and was written not long after the event described. Nevertheless, I would not accept the story as historically accurate without confirmation from other sources, which as far as I know has not been found. See also S.’s post here which discusses another alleged murder by hasidim. (I do not believe there is any truth to this story.)
There are, unfortunately, hasidic stories that present violence as an acceptable option to settle disputes. It is safe to assume that such teachings have an impact on some impressionable minds (think New Square). For example, in Sippurei Niflaot mi-Gedolei Yisrael (Tel Aviv, 1969), p. 279, it reports that R. Menahem Mendel of Kotzk thought that R. Shmelke of Nikolsburg made a mistake when he forced his “enlightened” opponents to leave the city. What he should have done, according to the Kotzker, is have them killed.
Some relevant material is found in the book Zikhron Asher (1980) by R. Asher Edelstein. This book is not found on Otzar ha-Chochmah or hebrewbooks.org. I learnt about it from R. Nahum Abraham, Darkhei ha-Ma’amarim (n.p., 2017), section Peti Ya’amin le-Khol Davar, pp. 113-114 (who cites the stories I mention). Here is the title page.
Here is pp. 14-15 where we are told that the Kosover Rebbe tried to drown the follower of another rebbe. Following this it mentions how each of the rebbes discussed would bring punishments upon the followers of the other rebbe.
Here is pp. 31-32 where it records that the Kosover Rebbe was angry that one of his hasidim went to the Belzer Rebbe, and this anger caused the man’s factory to burn down. It also tells a story of violence that took place at the wedding of one of the Ruzhiner Rebbe’s sons. This story ends with the death of the man who during the wedding had stabbed the Kosover Rebbe with a needle. 
Here is pp. 63-64 where it describes how the rebbe R. Yissoschar Berish Eichenstein once removed a fly from his plate on Shabbat, in violation of the halakhah. When this was mentioned to him by R. Menahem Mendel Stern, the rav of Sighet, R. Eichenstein replied that a man had been reincarnated in this fly, and he had to be metaken it. R. Stern replied that he does not seen any tikunim but only regular Shabbat violation. The story ends that R. Eichenstein’s brother cursed R. Stern and R. Stern returned the curse, leading to the brother’s early death and R. Stern not having any “nachas” from his descendants. 
None of the pages I have reproduced are found in the 2004 edition of Zikhron Asher. Here is the title page.
Yitzhak Even, Mahloket Sanz ve-Sadegura (New York, 1916), has a lot to see about violence between the Sanzer and Sadegura hasidim. On p. 68, he tells how some Sanzer hasidim murdered a Sadegura hasid. On pp. 79-80, he discusses the stabbing of a Sanzer hasid and further violence against Sanzer hasidim. He also mentions a report that in response to being attacked, the Sanzers murdered an elderly Sadegura hasid. See also pp. 83, 86-87. I do not know how reliable Even’s information is.
[11] See here. This action led to R. Shapira issuing the following statement in 1929, declaring that the Belz community is to be regarded as no different than the Reform community:
הן כבר הודענו כי אותן שמחזיקים בבית התפלה של הנעאלאגים דפה – דינם כמו שאר הנעאלאגים האוכלים נבילות וטריפות – ופשוט שאין להם נאמנות וחזקת כשרות כלל.
See Weingarten, “Pulmus Munkács-Belz,” col. 230 n. 2. See also ibid., col. 232, that originally the Belzers wished to be recognized as a Status Quo community. Only when the government did not agree to this, did they then request, and receive, government recognition as a Neolog community. Weingarten’s father was the secretary of the Munkács community. See Weingarten, “Ha-Admor Mi- Munkács, Rabbi Hayyim Eleazar Shapira,” Shanah be-Shanah (1980), p. 447. Even though Weingarten was a Zionist, he still had a very good relationship with R. Shapira. See Weingarten, Perurim mi-Shulhanam shel Gedolei Yisrael (Jerusalem, 2004), pp. 17-37.
[12] Regarding this, see Binat Nevonim.
[13] On p. 216, Heilman mentions that already the Tzemach Tzedek sent out shluchim to the wider Jewish world. Apropos of this, I know that some have wondered why Chabad calls its emissaries שלוחים and not  ,שליחי which any Hebrew dictionary will tell you is the plural of שליח. Yet as R. Meir Mazuz points out, in rabbinic Hebrew the plural is indeed שלוחים. Thus, we find in Rosh ha-Shanah 18a: על ששה חדשים השלוחין יוצאים. Also, Maimonides has a section in the Mishneh Torah that is called הלכות שלוחין ושותפין. See R. Mazuz’s note to Hannah Peretz, Patish he-Hazak (Bnei Brak, 2013), vol. 2, p. 384 n. 26, and his recently published Mi-Gedolei ha-Dor, vol. 3, p. 129 n. 2. R. Mazuz thinks that the term שליחים originates in Christian circles, and that it was perhaps because of this that Jews used the term שלוחים. Yet as far as I know there is no evidence that Christians used the term שליחים in the days of the Mishnah. 

I do not believe that the term  שלוחappears in classic rabbinic literature, but we do have it with a suffix. E.g., Mishnah Berakhot 5:5: ששלוחו של אדם כמותו. See Ben Yehudah’s dictionary, s.v. שלוח, שליח. Ben Yehudah, s.v. שלוח, explains the difference between שלוח and שליח as follows:

[שלוח] זה שנשלח, בהבדל מה מן שליח, שתפקידו הקבוע הוא לשמש כנשלח בשליחות.
In s.v. שליח he writes:
ואפשר שבא שליח בעקר כצורה ארמית שליח, שליחא במק’ שלוח בעבר.
[14] The only time I have ever had contact with a Chabad group that apparently denies the Rebbe’s death was in New Delhi. Here is a picture of the sign in front of the Chabad House and the stamp that is found in its siddurim and seforim.


ללא שינוי דגניזה means that the Rebbe’s soul continues to function in his body as there was no death.
[15] R. Jacob Elimelech Panet, the rav of Dej, Hungary, was on Kasztner’s list as one of the rabbis to be saved. However, R. Panet refused to leave the Dej ghetto and was later murdered in Auschwitz. See Shlomo Spitzer, Kehilot Hungaryah (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 111.
[16] “War and Religion; or, How the First World War Changed Hasidism,” Jewish Quarterly Review 106 (Summer 2016), p. 289 n. 20.
[17] Wodzinski, “War and Religion,” p. 305.
[18] Wodzinski, “War and Religion,” p. 299.
[19] In the recently published English translation of R. Pinchas Hirschprung’s Holocaust memoir, The Vale of Tears, trans. Vivian Felsen (Toronto, 2016), pp. 152-153, he discusses the Shabbat he spent with R. Ben Zion in Lemberg shortly after the start of the war. This memoir originally appeared in Yiddish in 1944. Fortunately, it was not translated by ArtScroll or one of the other haredi publishing houses as I am certain they would have deleted some of R. Hirschprung’s wonderfully honest comments. See e.g., p. 222, where he confesses that he thought of suicide. On p. 156, he writes, “I slept well, woke up past noon and recited the morning prayers far too late.” P. 160: “I was envious of this woman’s profound belief in divine providence.” P. 166: “I stealthily took some water from the town ritual bath.” On p. 221, he writes that R. Chaim Ozer Grodzinski told him that he was not worried about Lithuania losing its independence, a view that was soon shown to be incorrect. On pp. 246-247, he writes about how R. Chaim Ozer told him that he and his yeshiva should not take the visas for Curacao that were available, but should remain in Vilna. Had R. Hirschprung and his colleagues listened to R. Chaim Ozer it would have meant their deaths. I do not think that a haredi publication would ever record such an error in Daas Torah. R. Hirschprung also mentions how a hasid who was with him argued that precisely because R. Chaim Ozer, the misnaged, said not to get the visas, that this was a sign from heaven to do the exact opposite.
Regarding R. Hirschprung, in 1985 I was present at a siyum ha-shas where R. Shlomo Goren said that R. Hirschprung was the only person alive who knew the entire Talmud by heart. I found two talmudic notes published by R. Hirschprung when he was only fourteen years old. See Or Torah )Lvov) 1 (1926), p. 18, Beit Va’ad le-Hakhamim )Satmar), Adar 5686 (1926), p. 67. See also ibid., Kislev 5687 (1927), pp. 37-38. When he was sixteen he began to edit the Cracow Torah journal Ohel Torah. Regarding R. Hirschprung’s book Peri Menahem, which was written when he was apparently only thirteen years old, see Gedulat Pinhas (Brooklyn, 1999), p. 14; Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri: Be-Sha’arei ha-Defus (Jerusalem, 2014), p. 65.
At a future time I can discuss the rabbis who told people to remain in Europe even after World War II had begun. Since in this post I have discussed the Satmar Rebbe, I will only mention that R. Asher Anshil Yehudah Miller reports that during the Holocaust the Rebbe told his followers to remain in Hungary, which in hindsight was clearly a wrong decision. See Miller, Olamo shel Abba (Jerusalem, 1984), p. 309. R. Miller writes:
בשעה שהיהודים עמדו במבוכה ולא ידעו להחליט האם כדאי לברוח, מכיון שלא הכירו את מזימתם ואכזריותם של הגרמנים, עשו הוראותיו של האדמ”ר מסאטמער רושם עצום על כל יהודי חרדי “לא להבהל ולא להמלט, כי קרובה הישועה לבוא”. לדאבונינו לא כך היו פני הדברים – אלפי נפשות של יהודים טובים עם בני משפחותיהם הגיעו למחנות השמדה, למרות שהתגוררו בקרבות הגבול.
[20] There is no publication date on the title page, but the introduction is dated 1936.
[21] See Faierstein, “The Possession of Rabbi Hayyim Vital by Jesus of Nazareth,” Kabbalah 37 (2017), p. 36.
[22] In his introduction to Jewish Mystical Autobiographies (New York, 1999), p. 12, Morris M. Faierstein writes:
A related question is how are we to deal with Vital’s assertions when he cites the dreams and visions of others that were supposedly told to him, or when he recounts various “omens” that foretold his greatness in his childhood or youth. Similarly, when he ascribes certain thoughts or actions to others, should we assume that he is a reliable reporter or that these are his own invention? Data that cannot be verified from external sources, and this includes most of the contents of the Book of Visions, must be treated as Vital’s perception or belief. It would not be helpful to use judgmental terms like fantasy or invention or say that Vital “alleges” this or that. It is obvious that we are dealing with a “visionary” document and it should be approached from that perspective.

Regarding the larger question of how seriously we should take accusations found in written works, especially when we know that the author had negative feelings about the person he was writing about, I saw something relevant in Pawel Maciejko’s new book, Sabbatian Heresy. This is a very helpful book, which includes translations of a number of important texts. In the introduction, p. xxiv, Maciejko writes as follows:

While Sabbatians did not always display a positive or even tolerant attitude toward non-Jews, they never ignored other religions and traditions. They studied them with an intensity that sometimes bordered on obsession (according to contemporary testimony, Rabbi Jonathan Eibeschuetz developed an “uncontrolled urge to read books of the priests”). 

What is the source for the information about R. Eibeschuetz? None other than R. Jacob Emden, who said all sorts of negative things about R. Eibeschuetz. Thus, I do not feel it is appropriate to refer to such a source as “contemporary testimony.” 
[23] Israel Zinberg, who died before the most serious accusations against Najara were published, wrote as follows:

To be sure, Hayyim Vital is not a completely reliable witness. Apparently, he had some personal scores to settle with the poet. Furthermore, the vain and arrogant Vital envied Najara, because Isaac Luria was so enchanted by his verses. Luria used to say that even among the “family on high” Najara’s hymns are received with great enthusiasm, and that his soul is a “spark” of no less a soul than that of King David, the godly poet of the Psalms. (A History of Jewish Literature, trans. B. Martin [Cincinnati and New York, 1975], vol. 5, p. 95)
It is one thing to say that R. Vital believed in all sorts of superstitions, but Zinberg crosses the scholarly line by casting aspersions on R. Vital’s character. See also Meir Benayahu, “Rabbi Yisrael Najara,” Asupot 4 (1990), pp. 234-235, who defends Najara against the attacks on him, in particular by R. Menahem Lonzano. He writes:
ואולי דווקא משום הדרשות לתשובה שהיה ר’ ישראל נאגארה דורש ורבים חסידים וישרים נלקטו אליו בג’ובאר, שכל מעיינם היה בתיקון עצמם וקירוב זמן הגאולה, קינאו בו וטפלו עליו דברים שלא כן?
In his criticism of Najara, R. Lonzano pointed to what he regarded as the totally inappropriate erotic language used by Najara in describing the loving relationship between man and God. See Benayahu, “Rabbi Yisrael Najara,”, pp. 223ff. One example of such erotic language is found in Najara’s poem ידד שנת עיני  (Shirim, ed. Tova Beeri [Tel Aviv, 2015], pp. 126-127):
לו אהיה יונק ואתה אומני
אינק שדי יופיך צמאי אשברה
דוד נעלה חמדת מהללי . . .
לו אהיה אהל ואתה שוכני
נתעלסה אהב בגיל נתאזרה
דוד נעלה חמדת מהללי
לו אהיה לשון ואתה מעני
אשקיט יקוד חשקך בשיר ואזמרה
דוד נעלה חמדת מהללי
Here is my attempt at a translation:
If I were a suckling infant and You my wet nurse
I would suckle at Your beautiful breasts, quenching my thirst
My beloved, exalted and praiseworthy . . .
If I were a tent and You dwelled within
We would revel in love, gird ourselves in joy
My beloved, exalted and praiseworthy
If I were a tongue and You my response
I would calm my flaming desire for You with song
My beloved, exalted and praiseworthy
The first line of the last stanza is difficult. I have followed Prof. Joseph Yahalom’s suggestion. Prof. Tova Beeri in her note to the passage believes that the translation should be, “If I were a tongue and You the enabler of my speech,” based on Prov. 16:1. See also here s.v. פירוש. At this time, let me thank the incomparable Peter Cole for his e-mails to me discussing some of the problems of translations of poetry.
Najara would no doubt defend himself against R. Lonzano’s criticism by stating that he was following in the path of Song of Songs. Cf. Andreas Tietze and Joseph Yahalom, Ottoman Melodies Hebrew Hymns (Budapest, 1995), p. 19.
[24] See Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. Dibbuk.
[25] Faierstein, Jewish Mystical Autobiographies, p. 71.
[26] Sefer ha-Hezyonot, p. 34. Benayahu, “Rabbi Yisrael Najara,” p. 231, quotes all the bad things the spirit said about Najara and writes (emphasis added):
הרח”ו ראה בכך אשמה כבדה ולכן סיפר לנאג’ארה על כל אשר נאמר עליו, והוא כותב: “והודה לי שכן היה”.
Yet this is incorrect. As I indicated in the text, R. Vital did not speak with Najara about the more serious accusations.
[27] Physician of the Soul, Healer of the Cosmos: Isaac Luria and His Kabbalistic Fellowship (Stanford, 2003), p. 176.
[28] A History of Jewish Literature, vol. 5, p. 95.
[29] Ha-Moreshet ha-Musikalit shel Kehilot Yisrael, vols. 7-8 (Tel Aviv, 1986), p. 76.
[30] See here.
[31] Minhagei Ba’al Hatam Sofer, ch. 5:14 n. 1; Zemirot le-Shabbat Beit Soferim (London, 2015), p. 57. See also here.
[32] A recent video of a lecture of his on “Mesoros of Esrogim” can be seen here.



The Mysteries of Hoshana Rabbah

THE MYSTERIES OF HOSHANA RABBAH

By Eliezer Brodt


This article originally appeared last year in Ami Magazine (2016) This version has a many updates and corrections. I hope to revisit this subject shortly.


The sources of our Yomim Tovim are relatively easy to find, as one simply locates the relevant pesukim or Gemara and starts from there. However, one Yom Tov does not have such a starting point: Hoshana Rabbah. Its roots and numerous customs are shrouded in mystery. This article is an attempt to shed a bit of light on some of the early sources and customs behind this special day.[1]


A very early mention is in an anonymous attack against Yiddishkeit apparently written around the year 1500, where we already find Hoshana Rabbah under attack.[1a] At a later date we find in a work which records a debate about Kabbalah, written in 1825 that the origins of Hoshana Rabbah were also dealt with harshly.[1b]


The Name


Today we know this special day as Hoshana Rabbah, but it wasn’t always called by this name. In earlier sources, such as the Mishnah and Gemara, the Yom Tov is never called Hoshana Rabbah but “Yom Aravah” or “Yom Hoshana.” In a recent article, Rabbi Yaakov Stahl traces mentions of these names through numerous Geonim, Paytanim and Rishonim and concludes that the earliest known mention of the name “Hoshana Rabbah” is in the piyyutim of Rav Yosef Avitur, who passed away in 1024. However, it took a long time for the name to become popular.[2]


The Chayei Adam writes that the name Hoshana Rabbah references the many tefillos recited on this day that begin with the word “hoshana.”[3] This idea can be found as early as 1599 in the Seder Hayom. Rav Eliyahu Bachur writes in his Sefer HaTishbi that the aravos we take on Sukkos are called hoshanos because we call out hoshana, a contraction of the words hoshia na (please save), while holding them.[4]


YOM ARAVAH


In the fourth perek of Maseches Sukkah (42b-45a), the mishnayos and Gemara discuss the extra aravah that was used in the Beis Hamikdash in addition to the one included in the daled minim. Each day the kohanim would circle the mizbei’ach one time, and on the seventh day they would do so seven times. Rishonim differ as to whether they went around with both the aravah and the daled minim, or with the daled minim alone, as well as if the Yisraelim went around as well.[5]


On the seventh day, they would do chavatah on the ground with the aravos. Rashi (ibid. 44b) understands this to mean shaking the aravos, whereas the Rambam writes that it means to bang them two or three times on the floor or on a utensil[6] without making a brachah, in keeping with a minhag hanevi’im.[7] Since the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, we go around with daled minim only, and not with the aravah, since it is not mentioned in the Torah.[8] The Rambam writes that nowadays we go around the bimah as a zecher l’Mikdash, where they circled the mizbei’ach.[9]


These mishnayos are the earliest sources for the hakafos we do once each day on Sukkos and seven times on Hoshana Rabbah. There are numerous sources from the Geonim onward about this.


It’s worth mentioning the powerful words of Rav Yosef Hahn Norlingen (1570-1637) in Yosef Ometz, first printed in 1723. He writes that one should make a great effort to go around each day with the lulav, to the extent that it’s worthwhile to spend a lot of money on the daled minim for this aspect of the mitzvah alone. He writes sharply against those who leave early and avoid hakafos and describes how he completed the circuit every day, even when there was a lot of pushing, especially on Hoshana Rabbah when the children pushed a lot.[10] A similar point is made by the anonymous work Chemdas Yomim.[11]


We see from this the great significance of completing a circuit around the bimah each day, which ties into zecher l’Mikdash, a concept that stands behind numerous halachos.[12]


But what else—besides for circling the bimah seven times and banging the aravos—is done differently on Hoshana Rabbah than the other days of Chol Hamoed Sukkos?


MISHNEH TORAH[13]


Many have the custom to hear Mishneh Torah, or Sefer Devarim, on Hoshana Rabbah night.[14]


Where did this custom originate?


Avudraham writes that in his time, a few people had the custom to read the whole Torah on the night of Hoshana Rabbah in case they didn’t complete shnayim mikra that year. He personally does not endorse this minhag and feels one should make up any missed shnayim mikra over Sukkos, or better yet, during the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah.[15] Tashbetz, a talmid of the Maharam MiRotenburg, is also wary of this custom, giving the strong opinion that it doesn’t help for anything.[16] However, the Shibolei Haleket writes that it is a worthy practice, and the Magen Avraham mentions it as well. The Shibolei Haleket links this custom to the fact that it is the yom hadin for water, and though the Gemara says one should really finish shnayim mikra before Yom Kippur, if one does not, now is a good time.[17]


The anonymous early Italian work Minhag Tov also describes this custom and says he has seen people practice it. His reasoning for it is interesting: on Rosh Hashanah, we are judged for life and death. In case death was decreed upon him, he will have reviewed his learning.[18] Agudas Eizov adds that through learning, one will be reminded to do teshuvah.[19]


Rav Yaakov Emden suggests that the reason for this custom is to remember the king’s Torah reading at Hakhel, but says that this may be a bit farfetched. He also points out that chumash is not generally to be learned at night.[20] However, he concludes “I bend my head to a custom that is already accepted.” However, he is discussing the Mishneh Torah, not the reading of the entire Torah mentioned by the Rishonim.[21] Rabbi Yosef Ginsburg also writes that the custom is to read only the Mishneh Torah.[22] What’s the source for this?


Shulchan Aruch HaArizal, first printed around 1660, writes that on the night of Hoshana Rabbah one should read Mishneh Torah.[23] Basically, the earliest source for the custom is the Arizal.[24]


The minhagim of the Arizal became widespread through various “bestseller” sefarim. [25] To point to just three “bestsellers,” that helped spread this minhag, one was the Tikunei Shabbos, first printed in 1613,[26] and another the Shaarei Tzion by Rav Nassan Hanover, first printed in 1662.[27] These two works saw dozens of editions and were extremely popular and widespread. Both contain a full Hoshana Rabbah learning seder, famously known as the Tikun Leil Hoshana Rabbah. These works inspired other versions based on Kabbalah.[28] A third work that also helped spread this seder was the very popular (and anonymous) Chemdas Yamim, first printed in 1731.


What was farfetched to Rav Yaakov Emden was fact for the Aderes, who writes in his anonymous[29] work on Hakhel that the reason behind the minhag of Mishneh Torah is for a remembrance of Hakhel.[30] Elsewhere, he writes that he himself would lein Mishneh Torah each year in his sukkah from his own sefer Torah.[31]


Rav Charlop did the same.[32] Many gedolim would also say this tikkun. For example, the Chida records this in his autobiography many times.[33] The Chasam Sofer would say tikkun and then go to sleep.[34]


Interestingly, Rabbi Chaim Benveniste (1603-1673) in Shiurei Knesses Hagedolah[35] and others[36] bring down that many have a minhag to say selichos on Hoshana Rabbah night.[37] Others say selichos during the hakafos in the morning and even blow shofar after each circuit of the bimah.[38]


By contrast, in Vilna it appears there were those who said selichos on Hoshana Rabbah night and the Gra wanted to abolish it because of Simchas Yom Tov. It’s even recorded that on Hoshana Rabbah night the Gra was noheg Simchas Beis Hashoeivah like the rest of the nights of Chol Hamoed but he stopped it after one  Hoshana Rabbah night someone died.[39a]


TEHILLIM


Other early sources, such as Rav Avraham Galante write that one should say the whole Sefer Tehillim on Hoshana Rabbah.[39] Rav Moshe Machir, in his classic Seder Hayom, cites such a custom, as does Rav Yuzpeh Shamash (1604-1678) of Worms[40] and Rav Yosef Hahn Norlingen. The Chasam Sofer would say the whole Sefer Tehillim and go to sleep,[41] as did R’ Shlomo Zalman Auerbach.[41a] Rabbi Hertz Scheir would pay people to say Tehillim the whole night.[42]


Rav Chaim Stein, Rosh Yeshivah of Telz, in his incredible World War II diary chronicling his great mesiras nefesh for whatever mitzvos he was able to do during that time, also writes that he and his friends stayed up saying all of Tehillim.[43]


The Butchasher Rav (1771-1841) gives an additional interesting reason for doing so: because Hoshana Rabbah is the ushpizin night of Dovid Hamelech. Dovid was known not to sleep for longer than sixty horse breadths,[44] and we try to emulate that.[45]


CHECKING SHADOWS[46]


Avudraham also records an elaborate Hoshana Rabbah custom: at night, some wrap themselves in sheets and go out to the shade of the moon. If they find their shadow complete, they are happy; if the head is missing, they assume they will die during the coming year. Depending on the appearance of the shadow, one can tell if other family members will survive the year. (A possible similarity can be found in Maseches Horayos.)


However, the Avudraham concludes not to do it.[47] This custom is found in numerous Rishonim—Ramban, Rav Yehudah Hachasid, Rokei’ach, Rikanati,[48] Tzioni, and Rav Aharon Hakohen Miluneil, to list a few. At the end of a manuscript written by Rav Eliyahu Bachur in 1515, he notes, “I completed this sefer on Hoshana Rabbah, when I saw my head in the shadows of the moon, so I know that I will not die this year.”[49] Rav Chaim Benveniste writes that the purpose of this custom is to do teshuvah, for if one sees that the shadows are not in his favor, he will daven for the decree to be abolished.[50]


Interestingly, Rav Yosef Karo makes no mention of this minhag, but the Rama in Darchei Moshe cites the Avudraham without giving his own opinion about it. However, in his glosses on Shulchan Aruch, he stresses not to do it,[51] writing that we do not understand exactly how to do it and in general it is not advisable to look into the future. Rav Yosef Hahn Norlingen and the Mateh Moshe[52] write the same. (It’s worth pointing out, though, that the Arizal was an adherent of this custom.)[53]


Returning to the previously mentioned minhag, that of reading the whole Torah throughout the night of Hoshana Rabbah, the Agudas Eizov adds that another reason to learn is to amass zechusim so that one’s shadow will be complete on Hoshana Rabbah. What lies behind this unique custom?


There are many more minhagim of Hoshana Rabbah, almost all for the same reason.


ECHOES OF YOM KIPPUR[54]


The Tur and numerous other Rishonim mention the lighting of candles. Leket Yosher writes that his rebbe, the Terumas Hadeshen, would use in part leftover candles from Yom Kippur.[55] Rav Zalman of St. Goar, in his work Sefer Maharil, writes that he observed his rebbe, the Maharil, doing the same.[56] Rav Isaac Tirna describes the same in his Sefer Minhagim.[57]


Another minhag echoing Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is mentioned by Rav Zalman of St. Goar, who writes that he observed the Maharil wearing a kittel on Hoshana Rabbah.[58] The Rama cites a similar practice in Darchei Moshe and the Mapah. The Magen Avraham does the same, but says that the minhag in Poland is to wear Shabbos clothes, but not a kittel.[59] Rabbi Henkin writes that the minhag is only for the chazan to wear a kittel.[60]


Rav Isaac Tirna in his Sefer Minhaghim,[61] the Rama, Rav Yosef Hahn Norlingen and others bring that some go to the mikvah on the morning of Hoshana Rabbah.[62] Rav Chaim Benveniste writes in Shiurei Knesses Hagedolah that it’s better to do so in the evening. The Mateh Moshe,[63] Rabbi Yuzpeh Shamash (1604-1678) of Worms and others[64] write that it’s one of the five days of the year on which one should wake up early.[65]


The Tur and other Rishonim write that the minhag is to daven as on the morning of a Yom Tov, with a longer Pesukei Dezimrah.[66] However, it is unclear if they mean to include Nishmas. Numerous sources describe that the custom was to say it, such as in the French Work on Minhaghim written between 1360-1390 [66a], In the Zecher Yosef from 1467,[67] the Kabbalistic work Agudas Eizov,[68] Rav Chaim Benveniste’s description of Izmir, Turkey, in Shiurei Knesses Hagedolah, the Kaf Naki’s,[69] description of Morocco, and other descriptions of Italy.[70] However, the Rama says not to say Nishmas.


The Kitzur Shibolei Haleket writes that he heard some say Zachreinu L’chayim. Rav Chaim Benveniste cites others who had such a minhag.The Maharam would say Hamelech Hakadosh and Hamelech Hamishpat,[71] and in some early manuscripts, the tefillah of Unesaneh Tokef includes the words “Ub’Hoshana Rabbah yeichaseimun.”[72]


What is the common denominator of all these minhagim? The answer is simple. Hoshana Rabbah is a day of judgement. The question is, for what?


According to the Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 16a), it is a day of judgment for water. As the Taz[73] and Gra[74] point out, water is one of the most important human needs. The aravah grows by the water, says the Rokeach, so we take it up on this day. Of course it is well-known in Kabbalistic literature that this day marks the chasimah of the din handed down on Rosh Hashanah, but it is clear that sources who were not familiar with the Zohar also knew this. For example, the Manhig writes that the reason for lighting candles as on Yom Kippur, among other minhagim, is because on this day the judgment is sealed.[75] Some manuscripts of the Machzor Vitri write that we say Hashem hu haElokim seven times on Hoshana Rabbah, like we do on Yom Kippur, to symbolize the completion of judgment.[76] Others point to a cryptic line in the Yerushalmi in Rosh Hashanah to claim it as a final day of judgment.[77]


Based on these sources, it makes sense that all the many different minhagim are due to Hoshana Rabbah being a final day of judgment.[78] The question, though, is in the secrecy of it. Why are Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur openly discussed by Chazal as a day of judgment, while Hoshana Rabbah goes unmentioned? If it were such an important day, one would expect Chazal to let us in on the secret.[79]


Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky answers[80] this with an interesting idea, similar to one proposed by Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach.[81] They explain that Chazal felt that if the concept ever “got out,” it would disrupt simchas Yom Tov. At that time, the secret was only told to special people, but due to yeridas hadoros, it soon became clear that Hoshana Rabbah’s judgment would not affect simchah all that much. So the secret of the day’s tremendous significance was let out to the masses.
It is worth noting a similarly interesting statement from Rav Yehoshua Ibn Shuaib, talmid of the Rashba, that one of the reasons we do not find an open discussion of Rosh Hashanah’s judgment in the Torah is because such concepts are very hard to comprehend and discuss openly.[82]


STRANGE CUSTOM


In a letter in 1488, Rav Ovadiah miBartenura writes that in Italy, on Yom Kippur and Hoshana Rabbah nights, the aron was opened after davening and women would line up to kiss the Torah the whole night.[83] Rav Yehoshua Falk describes a similar practice in Pressburg. He links these customs, once again, to the fact of the final din.[84]


CHALLAH IN THE SHAPE OF A BIRD


Related to all of this, we find in a 19th-century Lithuanian memoir that white bread for Hoshana Rabbah was baked in the shape of a bird, because on this day, a final decision is made as to who will live or die that year. In folk tradition, this bird would fly to heaven and bring the determination on a scrap of paper.[85]  In Mattersdorf, the challahs of the Yomim Nora’im were baked in a round pan and stamped with a picture of a bird, probably for a similar reason.[86]


BANGING OF ARAVOS


After saying the hoshanos, we bang the bundle of aravos on the floor five times. The Chayei Adam[87] writes that children bang it until there are no leaves left, because of their exuberance for the mitzvah.[88] Rav Yair Chaim Bachrach of Worms (1638-1702) writes in the Mekor Chaim that fools bang it until no leaves are left. We bang it a few times, but why?


Rabbi Alexander Moshe Lapidos answers this question,[89] but to illustrate it clearly, some background is helpful. On Rosh Hashanah, we have a custom to eat various fruits and say accompanying tefillos. Numerous Acharonim [90] explain this minhag by pointing to a Ramban[91] that states that when an action is done in this world, it has an effect in shamayim, which in turn causes something to happen down here.[92] For instance, there is a custom among some to keep their hands open when reciting the words “Posei’ach es yadecha,” as though waiting to receive the parnasah.[93] This reasoning is in part what is behind the banging of the aravos.


THE FATE OF ARAVOS AFTER WE FINISH BANGING THEM


After we finish banging the aravos, what do we do with them? Many are noheg to place them on top of the aron kodesh, but it is not clear how far back this minhag can be traced, or if it is even permissible to do so.


Interestingly The Chayei Adam writes (153:3) one should burn the Aravos afterwards as does the Aruch Hashulchan (664:6).


The Munkatcher did not hold of throwing it onto the aron kodesh. However the Marsham points to a Malbushei Yom Tov which mentions that they did do so in his time. This work was written by the Tosfos Yom Tov (1579-1654) on the Levush, but was only first printed from manuscript in 1895.[94] However, this piece is already brought down by the Eliyhau Raba who had this work in manuscript and quotes from it often. [94a]


The sefer Tanya Rabbasi by Rav Yechiel HaRofei (1240-1289) records that “The custom we received from our fathers is that after we finish the mitzvah of aravah on Hoshana Rabbah, we take it home with us and put it next to our beds to show the love for mitzvos, and this is a kosher minhag.”[95] It is clear that in his time, the aravos were brought back home. The Mekor Chaim quotes the Tanya Rabbasi as saying that he heard that this practice serves as a protection when traveling.
We find segulos in numerous sefarim relating to saving a piece of the aravos, beginning with Derech Hayashar, written in Krakow in 1646. From there, it is also found in Uber Orach, Sefer Zechirah,[96] and Tzeidah Lederech, first printed in 1760.[97] It became famous in its Sefer Zechirah printing, as Rav Zechariah Simnar’s work was extremely popular in its time.[98] The custom is also found in the Chemdas Yomim.[99] All these sefarim write that one should use some of the candles of Yom Kippur for this practice to work, and that it saves one from robbery. Sefer Zechirah adds that you don’t need to carry the aravah on you for it to work, as long as you know where it is in your house.[100]


Numerous Rishonim and Acharonim advise that the aravos be saved and burned with the chametz,[101] because it is good to do mitzvos with objects already used for a mitzvah. None of these many sources mention throwing the aravos on top of the aron kodesh, even in passing.


SEGULAH WITH THE ESROG


One last famous Hoshana Rabbah segulah is the custom of women who are expecting to bite off the pitum of an esrog, daven that the birth not be painful, and then give tzedakah. The earliest source for this can be found in Rav Yaakov MiYanev’s classic Tz’ena Ur’ena.[102] This sefer, first printed around 1622, was reprinted over 200 times,[103] which explains why the minhag is so famous and popular. This practice is also cited by Rav Zechariah Simnar in Sefer Zechirah [104].


The reason for this minhag, as given by the Tz’ena Ur’ena, is because the fruit of the Eitz Hadaas that Chavah gave to Adam was an esrog. This caused the curse of painful childbirth. Since they did not pasel the esrog or eat from it all Sukkos, and do not do so even now that Sukkos is over, the tefillah of women is that they should not suffer because of Chavah’s sin, and instead have an easy labor.


May we all be zocheh to be inscribed in the sefer hachayim.



[1] For useful collections on this topic see; A. Berliner, Kesavim Nivcharim, 2, pp. 100-103; L. Zunz, Minhagei Tefah Upiut BiKhilot Yisrael, pp. 95-96,284- 288; R. Shlomo Y. Zevin, Moadim Bahalachah, pp. 142-149; Encyclopedia Talmudit, 8, pp. 527-535; Daniel Goldshmidt–Yonah Frankel, Machzor Sukkos, pp. 20-22; Daniel Goldshmidt, Mechkarei Tefillah Upiyut, pp. 392- 394; R’ Mordechai Spielman, Tiferes Tzvi, 3 pp.335-349; R’ Betzalel Landau, Machanayim 74 (1963), pp. 30-39; R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot 2, pp. 136- 146; R’ Ovadiah Yosef, Chazon Ovadiah (Sukkos), pp. 438-450; R’ Ben Ish Chai, HaModiah (1999), pp. 14-15 [Thanks to R’ Menachem Silber for this source]; R’ Deblitsky, Kitzur Hilchos HaMoadim (Sukkos), pp. 224-237; R’ Tchezner, Sharei Chag HaSukkos, pp. 249-256, 450-458; Rabbi Tuviah Freund, Moadim L’Simchah,1, pp. 422- 451; Pardes Eliezer, Sukkos, pp. 227 and onwards; Luach HaHalachos Uminhaghim, pp. 102-111.I hope to return to all this more extensively in the near future in a hebrew work.
[1a] Bechinas haKabbalah, p. 50. See T. Fishman, Shaking the Pillars of Exile, 1997, p. 140; R’ Eliyahu Benamozegh, Tam LiShad, p.12, 29.
[1b] Shadal, Vikuach Al Chochmas Hakabbalah, introduction. On this work see Jordan Penkower, The Dates of Composition of the Zohar, pp.75-116.
[2] Yerushaseinu 9 (2016), pp. 155-201.
[3] 153:2.
[4] Sefer HaTishbi, Erech Hoshana.
[5] See Biur Hagra, 660;1, 664;12; R’ Shimon Horowitz, Biur Marsha (on Sefer Tanya Rabbasi), p. 198; R’ Elyukim Horowitz, Zichron Yerushalayim p. 50.
[6] See R’ Eliyahu Posek, Ki Ha’adam Eitz Hasadeh, p. 136.
[7] Hilchos Lulav 7:22. See also R’ Eliyahu Posek, Ki Ha’adam Eitz Hasadeh, p.136.
[8] See Beis Yosef, 664. See also Rama, 664:7. However the Taz (5) concludes one should hold both as does the Eliyhau Raba (11). See also R’ Henkin in Shut Gevurat Eliyahu, p.299.
[9] Hilchos Lulav 7:23. See R’ Yosef Dubovick, ‘MiTorat Rav Shmuel Ben Chafni Gaon: Inyanei Aravah Beyom Shvi’i Shel Sukkos,’Asifat Chachamim Boyan 12 (2013) pp. 13-22 R. Shlomo Y. Zevin, Moadim Bahalacha, pp. 142-146; Yosef Tabori, Moadei Yisrael Bitkufat HaMishnah V’haTalmud, 2000, pp. 190-194; R’ Shlomo Pick, Ilana D’Chaye Sarah (1986), pp. 51-61; Otzar Mefarshei Hoshanos (Machon Yerushalayim) 2003, pp. 19-34.
[10] Yosef Ometz, Siman 1048.
[11] Chemdas Yomim, 83b.
[12] See the work from the Aderet called Zecher L’mikdash, and Zichron Yerushalayim from R’ Elyakim Horowitz both devoted to this topic. See especially pp. 50-52 in Zichron Yerushalayim.
[13] R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot, 2, pp. 136-137. See also R’ Weiss Binah L’itim, Tishrei, pp. 525-527 (staying up); see ibid, 527-530 (on finishing Chumash); Herman Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648-1806), p.173; J. Lauterbach, Rabbinical Essays, pp. 328-329. For a very interesting article connecting this minhag to Coffee, see Elliott Horowitz, “Coffee, Coffeehouses, and the Nocturnal Rituals of Early Modern Jewry,” AJS Review 14:1 (Spring 1989), pp. 17-46; Assaf Nabarro, Tikkun from Lurianic Kabbalah to popular culture, Phd Ben Gurion University 2006, p. 87. See also R’ Aron Felder, Sh’eilot Aron, Siman 16 [Thanks to Menachem Butler for this source].
[14] It’s interesting that R’ Moshe Machir in Seder Hayom brings this minhag and the problems mentioned here for Simchas Torah at night. R’ Dovid Sasso writes in Masot Bavel (p. 197) that in Baghdad they would lein the whole Torah on Shmini Atzeres.
[15] Avudraham, Hoshana Rabbah.
[16] Tashbetz (Schneerson edition), siman 410.
[18] Shibolei Haleket, Siman 371.
[19] Minhag Tov, #76. On the dating of this work see Y. Ta Shema, Collected Writings 3, p. 248.
[20] p. 263
[21] R’ Henkin also raises this issue in Shut Gevurat Eliyahu, p.298
[22] Siddur R’ Yaakov Emden 2, p. 407
[23] Itim LeBinah, p. 220.
[24] The importance of this work was that it was one of the main sources for the Magen Avraham when quoting the Arizal. See Eliezer Brodt, Halachic Commentaries to the Shulchan Aruch on Orach Chayim from Ashkenaz and Poland in the Seventeenth Century, PhD, Bar Ian University) July 2015. pp. 191-198.
[25] See for example Sefer Kavanos HaYashan, Jerusalem 2014, p. 285.
[26] See also R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot, 2, pp. 137-142.
[27] On the Significance and editions of this work see Eliezer Brodt, Halachic Commentaries to the Shulchan Aruch on Orach Chayim from Ashkenaz and Poland in the Seventeenth Century, PhD, Bar Ian University) July 2015, pp. 265-266. 29. [See the Appendix here]. See Assaf Nabarro, Tikkun from Lurianic Kabbalah to popular culture, PhD, Ben Gurion University, 2006, pp. 88-121. I hope to deal with this work in an article in the near future, iyH.
[28] See for example E. Landshuth, Amudei Ha’avodah pp. 218-220. See also Yosef Yahalom, Alei Ayin, pp. 130-143.
[29] He even gave a haskamah to his own work. See Yaakov Spiegel, Amudim Betoldot Hasefer Haivri, BiSharei Defus, pp. 35-36.
[30] Zecher L’mikdash, p. 19. See also Seder Eliyahu, Nefesh Dovid, p. 139.
[31] Seder Eliyahu, Nefesh Dovid, p. 139. R’ Moshe Feinstein was against leining from a Sefer Torah for Mishna Torah (Mesorat Moshe 2, p. 151).
[32] R’ Deblitsky, Binu Shnos Dor Vador, p. 63, 70
[33] Meir Benayahu, Ha-Chida, p. 533.
[34] See Zichronos Umesoros al HaChasam Sofer, pp. 205-206; Minhagei Raboseinu V’hilchosam, p. 170.
[35] He brings this from the Arizal, which is one of the only times he quotes him in his sefarim on Orach Chaim.
[36] R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot, 2, pp. 138-139.
[37] See Avraham Yari, Toldos Chag Simchas Hatorah, pp. 292-295, about those who thought there was a custom to say Selichos on the night of Simchas Torah, when in reality they got confused and it was really on the night of Hoshana Rabbah. See Kaf Naki, Lud 2014, p. 108 who writes he could not find early sources for this minhag.
[38] See for example R’ Moshe Machir in Seder Hayom; R’ Meir Soloveitchick, Ha-Meir La’aretz, p. 104.
[38a] Aliyot Eliyahu, Maylot HaSulum 13, pp. 32-33.
[39] S. Schechter, Studies in Judaism, Philadelphia 1908, 2, p. 296. About this see Moshe Chalamish, HaKabbalah Betefillah Uminhag, pp. 332-355. See also Meir Benayahu, Dor Echad Ba’aretz, p. 268.
[40] Minhaghim D’Kehal Vermeiza, (1988), pp. 214
[41] See his own testimony in Sefer Zikaron, p.3 about a dream he had.
[41a] Halichos Shlomo (Tishrei), p. 241. See About R’ Moshe Feinstein, in Mesorat Moshe 1, p. 119 that he would “say” Mishnah Torah at night and finish Tehilim during the day. See also Mesorat Moshe 2, p. 151; R’ Henkin in Shut Gevurat Eliyahu, p.298.
[42] Turei Zahav, p. 16 (introduction).
[43] Mi-Telz Ad Telz, p. 276.
[44] See my Bein Kesseh LeAssur, pp. 173-215.
[45] Peninim Yekarim # 8 (printed in back of Da’as Kedoshim on Yoreh Deah, Tel Aviv 1959). Thanks to R’ Yehuda Spitz for this source.
[46] A. Berliner, Kesavim Nivcharim, 2, p. 101; R’ Eliyahu Benamozegh, Tam LiShad, p. 59, 217; Y. Weinstock, B’Maagalei Haniglah V’hanistar, pp. 245-269; Dov Sadan, Gilgul Moadim, pp. 163-178; R’ Lipshitz, Iyunim B’-Rabbeinu Bechaye, pp.327-331; Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, 6, pp. 173-182; Daniel Speber, The Jewish Life Cycle, pp. 373-383; Ibid, Sefer Zikaron Heichal Hanefesh, pp. 369-376; Y. Ta-Shema, Ha-Niglah She-Benistar, pp. 30-31,120; R’ Yaakov Stahl, Sefer Gimatriyos, 2, Appendix pp. 866-874; Yisroel Ta-Shema, Kneset Mechkarim 4, p. 234. See this recent post.
[47] Avudraham, Hoshana Rabbah.
[48] He even mentions some trying to do it on a bird. The Mateh Moshe brings this down, but Mekor Chaim comments on this that it’s strange.
[49] About this passage see Y. Weinstock, B’Maagalei Haniglah V’hanistar, p.259; Dov Sadan, Gilgul Moadim, p.165. About R’ Eliyahu Bachur and Kabbalah see my Likutei Eliezer, pp. 71-72.
[50] Shiurei Knesses Hagedolah, 664. See also Sha’arei Tzion from R’ Nassan Hanover, p. 142. [51] See the Gilyon of the Magen Avraham here.
[52] Mateh Moshe, 957 (at the end). See the comments of R’ Chaim Ulma on Yosef Ometz (Mechon Yerushalayim ed.), p. 294.
[53] Sefer Kavanos HaYashan, Jerusalem 2014 pp. 286-287.
[54] See Herman Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648-1806), p. 173; R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot, 2, p.96,135.
[55] Leket Yosher,(2010), p. 334.
[56] Maharil, p.381.
[57] p. 125.
[58] Maharil, p. 381. See Yerushaseinu 3 (2009), pp. 90-93 about wearing a Kittel and saying Nishmas.
[59] Magen Avraham, 664;3. See Halichos Shlomo (Tishrei), p. 241 about what R’ Shlomo Zalman Auerach did.
[60] Shut Gevurat Eliyahu, p.298. See also R’ Deblitsky, Kitzur Hilchos HaMoadim (Sukkos), p. 229 Ftnt, 23 from Shar Mayim Rabim, p. 611. See also R’ Nosson Kamentsky, Making of a Godol, p. 131.
[61] p. 125.
[62] See what the Leket Yosher writes about his Rebbe the Terumas Hadeshen, p. 333.
[63] Matteh Moshe, 958.
[64] See for example the early collection of Minhagim in Genuzot 2 (1985), p. 14.
[65] Minhagim D’Kehal Vermeiza, (1988), pp. 214
[66] See Likutei Chaim (talmid of Minchas Chinuch), pp. 329-330. See also R’ Yitzchak Weiss, Shut Siach Yitzchak, Siman 318; Eishel Avraham (Butchatch) 664:1; Orchos Chaim (Spinka), about saying Mizmor Shir L’Yom HaShabbos.
[66 a] See the recent article from R’ Stahl, Yeshrun 37 (2017), p.185 where he printed parts of this manuscript for the first time. See also the additional early source from manuscript in footnote 47.
[67] Manuscript printed by Yaakov Spiegel, Moriah 30 (2011) 10-12 (358-360) p. 18. See also L. Zunz, Minhagei Tefah Upiut B’kehilot Yisrael, p. 285; Nevei Shalom, p. 27a.
[68] p. 264.
[69] Lud 2014, p. 108.
[70] Megilas Sedarim, (2002), p.85
[71] See Tiferes Shmuel end of Brachos (quoted by Da’as Torah, 664:1)
[72] A. Berliner, Kesavim Nivcharim, 2, p. 102. See the manuscript from 1560-1590 in  the recent article from R’ Stahl, Yeshrun 37 (2017), p.187 and Footnote 56.
[73] 664;1.
[74] 664:5. See R’ Dovid Cohen, Zeman Simchaseinu, pp. 87-97
[75] Sefer Hamanhig, 2, pp. 402-403.
[76] Machzor Vitri 3 (Goldsmidt ed,) , p. 876
[77] See Yerushalmi Rosh Hashanah 4:4. See also Yefeh Mareh; Mareh Panim. See R’ Meir Soloveitchik, Ha-Meir La’aretz, p. 104; R’ Zevin (above note 1), p. 147; R’ Reuven Margolis, Nefesh Chayah, 664; R’ Yissachar Tamar, Alei Tamar, Moed 2, pp. 226-227,128-129, 310; Y. Brand in B’Rosh Hashanah Yikaseivun (2003), p. 37-39 [Thanks to R’ Yakov Stahl for this source]. For more sources on it being the Gemar Din see: R’ Yaakov Emden, Shut Sh’eilat Yaavetz, 1, 33 (end); R’ Meir Don Polotzky (letter in back of Toldos HaRama Mifano, p. 87; R’ Eliyahu Posek, Shut Mor Oheles, p. 35a; R’ Dovid Hanazir, Kol HaNevuah, pp. 251-252. See also the recent article of R’ Urile Biner, HaOtzar 8, pp. 155-167; R’ Stahl, Yeshrun 37 (2017), p.184-185 footnote 44; See also his forthcoming work Minhag Avos where he deals with this at length tracing sources for this concept in early Paytanyim.
[78] See R’ Yitzchak Weiss, Shut Siach Yitzchak, Siman 315 who deals with why we say hallel if it’s a Yom Hadin.
[79] See R’ Eliyahu Nissim, Aderet Eliyahu, p. 29-30; R’ Eliyahu Benamozegh, Tam LiShad, pp. 19-21, 5; R’ Schick, Shut Rashban, Siman 252.
[80] Emes LeYaakov, pp.398-399. R’ Yaakov Kamenetsky writes an interesting language about the person who asked this question to him
הרגשתי בקושיא זו קושיא של קנטור כנגד דברי הזוהר
I once speculated that perhaps the reason for this comment was that R’ Yaakov had read the work of Shadal, VeKuach Al Chochomas Kabalah which begins with a debate between two people on Hoshana Rabba debating the origins of the Day and via this lead to a full fledged discussion of the origins of Kabbalah. However I have no evidence for the speculation that R’ Yaakov read or was familiar with this work.
[81] Halichos Shlomo (Tishrei), pp. 241, 428-435 See also Shalmei Moed, pp.169-170.
[82] Drasha L’Rosh Hashanah.
[83] Igrot Eretz Yisrael, p. 106. See also A. Grossman, Chasidus Umorodot, p. 302.
[84] Choshvei Machshavos, p. 71.
[85] Pauline Wengeroff, Memoirs of a Grandmother, 2010, p. 166. See also Herman Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648-1806), p. 276 note 47.
[86] R’ Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei Hakehilot, 2, p. 28. See also R’ Yaakov Stahl, Yerushaseinu 9 (2016), p. 177.
[87] 153:3.
[88] See the Sefer Hakundos from 1824 in the 1997 edition, p. 66.
[89] See R’ Hirshevitz, Minhagei Yeshurun, p. 112; Toras Hagaon R’ Alexander Moshe Lapidos, p.430.
[90] See for example R’ Margolis in his Shut Machlos Hamachanayim, pp. 27b-28a
[91] Breishis, 12:6; 48:22
[92] See Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, 3, pp. 113-172
[93] R’ Yosef ben Naim, Noheg BiChachmah, pp. 167-168. See Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, 3, pp. 113-172.
[94] See Eliyhau Rabbah, 664:11: Darchei Chaim VeSholom, p. 292; Orchos Chaim (Spinka) 664:6; Luach HaHalachos Uminhaghim p. 109 – quoting Shut Marsham, 4:57 who mentions that they did this. See also  R’ Moshe Harari, Mikraei Kodesh, (Daled Minim), 2017 pp. 828-829.
[94a] This was one of many manuscripts used by the Eliyhau Rabba see R’ Tzi Leher, Yeshurn 35 (2106), pp.729-730.
[95] Siman 86, Brought in the Eliyhau Rabbah (13). See this recent article of R’ Yaakov Stal about this Minhag.
[96] p. 270-271.
[97] In 2001 edition p. 7.
[98] Sefer Zechira, p. 271. On this work see my Likutei Eliezer, pp. 13-25.
[99] Chemdas Yomim, p. 90b.
[100] See also R; Chaim Palagi, Ruach Chaim; Yifah LiLev; Segulot Yisroel, Erech Eyen, 61-62; Orchas Chaim (Spinka) 664:8; R’ Eliyahu Posek, Kie Hadem Etz haSudeh, p.139a.
[101] See for example sources brought in the Beis Yosef and Darchei Moshe here. See also my article in Yerushaseinu 2 (2008), p. 219.
[102] Bershis Jerusalem 1975, p. 34.
[103] See Introduction to Old Yiddish Literature, Jean Baumgarten, Oxford 2005, pp. 113-121; C. Shmeruk, Safrut Yiddish BePolin, pp. 147-164.

[104] Sefer Zechirah, p. 241; See also R’ Eliyahu Posek, Ki Ha’adam Eitz Hasadeh, p. 127b, 138b ; Chaim Uberachah, 228. See the extensive article from R’ Daniel Racah, Or Yisrael 41 (2006), pp. 167-188. On eating esrogim see A. Shemesh, Plants, Nourishments and ways of eating in Blessing Literature 1492-2000 (heb.) (2014), pp. 240-243.