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Keser vs. Kesher: What’s In A Name?

Keser vs. Kesher: What’s In A Name?[1]
 
I – The Puzzle
Kesher Israel (KI) Congregation has enhanced Jewish life in Pennsylvania’s capital of Harrisburg for almost 115 years. During that time, KI has been blessed with outstanding rabbinic leadership: The famed Rabbi Eliezer Silver[2] first headed the congregation from 1911-1925. He was followed by Rabbi Chaim Ben Zion Notelovitz who served KI from 1925-1932. Rabbi David L. Silver (a son of Rabbi Eliezer Silver) led the congregation from 1932-1983. Rabbi Dr. Chaim E. Schertz served KI as its rabbi from 1983-2008.
Soon after arriving in Harrisburg in 2007, I found myself intrigued by the synagogue’s name. Since the congregation is called Kesher Israel, I just assumed its Hebrew name was קשר ישראל (pronounced ‘Kesher Israel’, meaning Bond of Israel). However, I soon learned that upon being founded in 1902, the synagogue was in fact named כתר ישראל (pronounced ‘Keser Israel’ in classic Ashkenazis – which KI’s founders surely spoke – meaning Crown of Israel). I soon noticed that below the words ‘Kesher Israel Synagogue’ on the cornerstone of KI’s current building (pictured above), appears the Hebrew name כתר ישראל.
This seemingly minor detail puzzled me greatly. Why did a congregation whose proper Hebrew name was כתר ישראל choose to call itself Kesher Israel? Had anyone ever taken note of – or attempted to correct – this inconsistency? During the summer of 2015, I found time to research the matter, and I now have a theory to propose.
II – An Enigmatic Account
In 1997, KI honored its beloved Rabbi Emeritus – Rabbi David L. Silver (1907 – 2001)[3] – with a community-wide weekend celebration on the occasion of his 90th birthday. As part of that celebration, the congregation published “Silver Linings” – a 90 page book of Rabbi D. Silver’s memoirs. Those memoirs were excerpted from some 35 hours of taped interviews conducted from April, 1996 – April, 1997. On pages 43 – 44 of that book we find the following account:
When the shul was founded, it was called Keser . . . which means a crown. Some fellow who was a Hebrew teacher . . . spelled it as C-a-s-s-e-u-r. He should have put it down as K-e-s-e-r. Some people – Lithuanian Jews, I want you to know, because I am of that breed – pronounced and spelled it “sh”. Kesher means “the bond” . . .
My father came here in 1907. He was a good Hebraist and he didn’t like the name. He said, in the Bible when there is the term “kesher” it’s “kesher bodim”[4]. A bond of bodim means rebels, period[5]. My father said that’s no name for a shul and changed it from Kesher Israel to Keser Israel, a crown of Israel. I don’t know whether it happened on the first day he came here but that’s what it became.
Rabbi D. Silver’s eye-opening account of the history of KI’s name is quite enigmatic. In attempting to understand this explanation, the following questions must be answered:
1)      If the congregation’s original name was in fact ‘Keser Israel’ (כתר ישראל), why would Lithuanian Jews have pronounced it ‘Kesher Israel’?
2)      If the congregation’s original name actually was ‘Keser Israel’, what exactly did Rabbi Eliezer Silver change?
3)      As the synagogue is called ‘Kesher Israel’ to this very day, what did Rabbi D. Silver mean when he reported that his father had successfully changed its name from ‘Kesher Israel’ to ‘Keser Israel’?
III – Sabesdiker Losn
In the Book of Judges, we learn of a terrible civil war that flared up between the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh. As the beaten forces of Ephraim attempted to retreat across the Jordan River we read (Judges 12:5-6):
5 – And the Gileadites seized the crossings of the Jordan that belonged to Ephraim; and it was that when any of the survivors of Ephraim said, “Let me go over,” and the men of Gilead said to him, “Are you an Ephraimite?” and he said, “No.”
6 – And they said to him, “Say now ‘Shibboleth,’ ” and he said “Sibboleth,” and he was not able to pronounce it properly, and they grabbed him and slew him at the crossings of the Jordan; and there fell at that time of Ephriam, forty-two thousand.
At that point in Jewish history, the tribe of Ephraim was unable to correctly pronounce the hushing sound of the Hebrew letter “Shin” in the word “Shibboleth”. They instead pronounced the word with the hissing sound of the Hebrew letter “Sin”, and the word came out as “Sibboleth”.[6] With their identities compromised, many Ephraimites lost their lives.
In the course of my research, I learned that the inability of many Lithuanian Jews to properly distinguish between the hushing and hissing sounds of the Hebrew letters “Shin” and “Sin” was once common knowledge. Like the Ephraimites before them, many Lithuanian[7] Jews also pronounced the word ‘Shibboleth’ as ‘Sibboleth’.[8] As a result of their enunciation, other Yiddish speakers jokingly referred to the Lithuanian dialect of Yiddish as ‘Sabesdiker Losn’. In an often quoted article on Sabesdiker Losn, Prof. Uriel Weinreich writes:
One of the most intriguing instances of non-congruence involves a peculiar sound feature of the northeastern dialect of Yiddish: the confusion of the hushing series of phonemes (š, ž, č) with the hissing phonemes (s, z, c), which are distinguished in all other dialects . . . This dialect has come to be known as sábesdiker losn ‘solemn speech’ (literally ‘Sabbath language’), a phrase which in general Yiddish is šábesdiker lošn, with two š’s and an s. This mispronunciation of it immediately identifies those who are afflicted with the trait; to them the term litvak is commonly applied.[9]
Later in that same article Weinreich writes:[10]
The Ephraimites . . . paid with their lives for their inability to distinguish hissing and hushing phonemes in a crucial password. No litvak has ever been slain for his sábesdiker losn, but he has been the butt of innumerable jokes. The derision with which the feature was regarded by other Yiddish speakers sent it reeling back under the impact of “general Yiddish” dialects from  the south . . . In addition to dialectical pressure from the south, there were other influences tending to introduce the opposition, as it were, from within. There was for example, the growing need to learn foreign languages in which hissing and hushing phonemes are distinguished, and the promotion of Standard Yiddish by the schools, the theater, and political and educational organizations.[11]
As we have seen, many Lithuanian Jews were unable to distinguish between hushing and hissing sounds. While this led many to pronounce ‘Shibboleth’ as ‘Sibboleth’ (hence the term Sabesdiker Losn), this was not always the case. There is much evidence that in some locales, the inability of Lithuanian Jews to distinguish between the hushing and hissing sounds resulted in the exact opposite: they pronounced the word ‘Sibboleth’ as ‘Shibboleth’.[12]
In his article dealing with Sabesdiker Losn, Prof. Rakhmiel Peltz[13] quotes sources showing that many Lithuanian Jews mispronounced their words in the following manner:

. . . šuke ‘Sukkoth tabernacle’, šimkhe ‘joy, festivity’, šeykhl ‘reason, sense’, šider ‘prayer book’ . . .  [14]

A fascinating episode involving none other than Rabbi Eliezer Silver himself relates to this point, and can be found in the book “A Fire In His Soul”. A good part of that volume documents the activities of the Vaad Hatzala – the emergency rescue committee which worked so hard to save Jewish lives during the dark years of the Holocaust.[15] Soon after the fighting ended, the committee sent Rabbi E. Silver to the war-ravaged European continent to aid Jewish refugees and survivors. The following colorful incident is recorded:[16]
Rabbi Eliezer Silver, acting as a Vaad representative and president of the Agudas Harabonim, spent three months visiting Holland, Belgium, France, Czechoslovakia, Germany and Poland. Wearing a surplus American Army uniform purchased for this mission, he moved about freely, distributing funds to build mikvaos, yeshivas and kosher kitchens. He also located children who had been in hiding throughout the war.
This bearded rabbi in uniform did experience some awkward moments. When an allied soldier saluted him, Rabbi Silver did not respond in kind, causing the soldier to doubt his credentials. When Occupation officials asked to see his military identification – after all, he was a man in uniform – Rabbi Silver stared defiantly and proclaimed, “I don’t need papers. I am the Chief Rabbi of the United States and Canada!” (It came out “United Shtates” in Rabbi Silver’s characteristic accent.) Understandably, the American authorities did not believe him and were not inclined to let him go.
Chagrined, Rabbi Silver pointed to the telephone and barked, “Call Shenator Taft. Tell him Shilver’s here!” The officials looked at each other. They didn’t know that the small man, seething with almost comical anger, enjoyed a personal and political friendship with the powerful Ohio Senator Robert Taft.[17]
Rabbi Silver’s “characteristic accent” described above is a rare glimpse into how his Lithuanian upbringing and pronunciations affected his ability to articulate his words. Rabbi Eliezer Silver was born in the hamlet of Abel – in the Kovno province of Lithuania in 1881.[18] His pronunciation of “Shtates”, “Shenator”, and “Shilver” was most likely the result of his growing up in an environment where no distinction was made between hissing and hushing sounds in the Yiddish spoken all around him. In his case (and probably in the case of many others in his locale), words that should have been pronounced with a ‘hiss’, were instead pronounced with a ‘hush’.[19]
With this better understanding of how many Lithuanian Jews pronounced their words, I believe we can now solve the mystery of KI’s name.
IV – Solving the Puzzle: A Theory
Making use of KI’s historical records, I propose the following theory:
KI was founded in 1902. The congregation was officially named כתר ישראל in Hebrew, and was given the English name of ‘Casseur Israel’ – instead of the more straight-forward ‘Keser Israel’. This can be clearly seen from a document – dated January 1, 1903 – presented to Mr. Max Cohen (a founding member) which stated that he had purchased a pew in his new Harrisburg synagogue. This certificate was signed on behalf of “The Trustees of the Congregation – Casseur Israel, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania”. The document was also embossed with the new congregation’s official seal. In English, the stamp reads “Congregation Casseur Israel – Harrisburg, Pa.” In Hebrew it reads, “חברה כתר ישראל – האריסבורג פא”  [20]

Although KI was chartered as ‘Casseur Israel’ in October of 1902, the Lithuanian founders and members of this new synagogue pronounced its name as ‘Kesher Israel’. This was a result of the manner in which their version of Sabesdiker Losn Yiddish affected their enunciation of the hissing and hushing sounds.[21] As a result of the way in which the congregation’s members pronounced their own synagogue’s name, local newspaper articles began referring to the synagogue as ‘Kesher Israel’ – as early as 1903 (just months after the congregation was founded).[22]
Though Rabbi Eliezer Silver arrived in Harrisburg in 1907, he was not officially hired by KI to serve as their spiritual leader until February 11, 1911.[23] In 1908, shortly after Rabbi E. Silver arrived in Harrisburg – but still three years before he would become KI’s first rabbi – the six-year-old congregation hired a local Yiddish printer to write up its constitution.[24] The following detail on the constitution’s cover page[25] is striking: Although the synagogue’s official seal used in 1903 listed the new congregation’s Hebrew name as חברה כתר ישראל (Keser Israel Congregation), KI’s 1908 constitution records the Hebrew name of the synagogue as חברה קשר ישראל (Kesher Israel Congregation).[26] This was a result of either:
A)   The printer – unfamiliar with the congregation’s official Hebrew name of  כתר ישראל – published a document in which he spelled the congregation’s Hebrew name true to the way its own members all pronounced it – קשר ישראל – Kesher Israel.
B)   The version of Lithuanian Yiddish spoken by so many of the congregation’s founders and members caused them to refer to the synagogue as ‘Kesher Israel’ from the day it was founded. Perhaps by 1908 a movement arose within KI to have its Hebrew name officially changed from כתר ישראל (Keser Israel) to קשר ישראל (Kesher Israel). This proposed switch would enable the young congregation to have complete consistency between; 1) the synagogue’s Hebrew and English names, 2) what all of KI’s founders and members already called it, and 3) the name used by all the newspapers when referring to the congregation.

When KI hired Rabbi Eliezer Silver as its rabbi in 1911, he accepted the pulpit of a synagogue whose Hebrew name had begun as כתר ישראל (Keser Israel), but for one reason or another, was now given the Hebrew name of קשר ישראל (Kesher Israel) in its official constitution. Rabbi E. Silver could live with the fact that everyone pronounced the congregation’s name as ‘Kesher Israel’ (and from what we have seen above, he most probably pronounced it that way as well) – and did not even mind if they spelled it that way in English. However, seeing the synagogue’s name spelled in Hebrew as קשר ישראל was too much for Rabbi E. Silver to bear. Having mastered Biblical and rabbinic literature, he clearly knew the negative connotations of the word קשר . He associated that word with conspiracies and rebellions – concepts which he strongly believed had no place in a Jewish house of prayer that was to be loyal to G-d and Jewish tradition. As such, Rabbi E. Silver insisted that KI’s official Hebrew name should revert back to כתר ישראל (Keser Israel). He insisted on this Hebrew name for the synagogue despite the fact that (he and) his fellow Lithuanian Jews pronounced the congregation’s name as ‘Kesher Israel’ – and would continue spelling it that way in English as well.[27]
Rabbi E. Silver’s efforts to ensure that KI would retain its original Hebrew name of כתר ישראל (Keser Israel) can be seen in two early projects of his.
A)      Upon his arrival in Harrisburg, Rabbi E. Silver instituted a Hevra Shas – wherein he studied the Talmud together with members of Harrisburg’s Jewish community each morning and evening.[28] Rabbi Silver’s Hevra Shas moved into KI’s facility after he became its rabbi in February of 1911.[29] A large hand painted sign proudly displaying the names of the dedicated members (and supporters) of that Talmud study group was created – and still hangs in one of KI’s offices. At the top of that sign, the following Hebrew words appear: בית הכנסת כתר ישראל חברה ש”ס – האריסבורג, פא.  (Keser Israel Synagogue Hevra Shas – Harrisburg, PA.).[30] The wording of KI’s name on that sign reflects Rabbi E. Silver’s goal of reclaiming כתר ישראל as the congregation’s official Hebrew name.

B)      In 1917, KI commissioned an artisan to create a special ‘Pinkus HaZahav’ or Golden Book. This incredibly large and heavy leather-bound volume (hand-written in beautiful Hebrew calligraphy) contains a brief history of the congregation.[31] The bulk of the volume consists of a ledger listing the names of those who had made significant pledges towards the new building KI would soon move into. [32] On the book’s front cover, the congregation’s name is written in Hebrew as חברה כתר ישראל. Like the Hevra Shas sign, the wording of KI’s name on its special Golden Book reflects Rabbi E. Silver’s goal of reclaiming כתר ישראל (Keser Israel) as the congregation’s official Hebrew name.[33]

In addition to explaining Rabbi David L. Silver’s above-cited enigmatic account, I believe the puzzle of how a synagogue, with the Hebrew name of כתר ישראל (Keser Israel), ended up with the English name of ‘Kesher Israel’ has now been solved.
VI – Conclusion
Upon reflection I realize that the only time the membership of KI hears the congregation referred to as כתר ישראל (Keser Israel) is after the solemn Yizkor memorial prayers, which are recited during the holidays. At the conclusion of Yizkor, special collective Kel Maleh memorial prayers are recited on behalf of the deceased members and relatives of the congregation.[34]  Since my arrival in 2007, I listened closely as KI’s Cantor Seymour Rockoff would clearly enunciate the words קהילת כתר ישראל (Keser Israel Congregation) during that prayer – pronouncing the synagogue’s Hebrew name exactly as Rabbi Eliezer Silver would have wanted.
Following Cantor Rockoff’s sudden passing in the summer of 2015,[35] I recited those collective Kel Maleh prayers at KI this past Shemini Atzeret (5776). As I clearly pronounced the words קהילת כתר ישראל, I thought about all the history behind KI’s name. I also envisioned Rabbi Eliezer Silver grinning as he tipped his signature black silk top hat in my direction.
___________
רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, שְׁלשָׁה כְתָרִים הֵם, כֶּתֶר תּוֹרָה וְכֶתֶר כְּהֻנָּה וְכֶתֶר מַלְכוּת, וְכֶתֶר שֵׁם טוֹב עוֹלֶה עַל גַּבֵּיהֶן.
Rabbi Shimon would say: There are three crowns – the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty – but the crown of a good name is the most valuable of them all.
(Pirkei Avot 4:13)

                 
Rabbi Eliezer Silver in his younger and older years.

[1] This article is dedicated to the memory of Cantor Seymour Rockoff – Harav Eliyahu Shalom ben Harav Chaim Shmuel, z”l. With his melodious voice and meticulous attention to the details of prayer, Cantor Rockoff greatly enhanced Kesher Israel Congregation’s services from 1986 – 2015.
[2] (1882-1968). For an excellent biography of Rabbi E. Silver, see Rakeffet-Rothkoff, Aaron. The Silver Era: Rabbi Eliezer Silver and His Generation. Jerusalem: Feldheim Publishers, 1981. This out-of-print book was republished by the Orthodox Union and Yeshiva University Presses in 2014.
[3] Yeshiva University placed an obituary for Rabbi D. Silver – one of its oldest rabbinic alumni – in The New York Times on July 11, 2001. It can be viewed online here.
[4] I am confident that the word Rabbi D. Silver used in the interview from which this account was excerpted was “Bogdim” and not “Bodim”. The term “Kesher Bogdim” means a band of traitors, and can be found in Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah Hilkhot Sanhedrin 2:14, Shulhan Arukh Hoshen Mishpat 3:4, and according to the Vilna Gaon (note 22 there) the expression is based on the term “Kesher Reshaim” – a band of evil-doers – used by the Talmud in BT Sanhedrin 26a.
[5] For examples where the word ‘Kesher’ is used in describing conspiracies in the Bible see: I Samuel 15:12, I Kings 16:20, II Kings 11:14, II Kings 12:21, II Kings 14:19, II Kings 15:15, II Kings 15:30, and II Kings 17:4.
[6] In his commentary to Judges 12:6, Rabbi Dovid Kimhi (1160 – 1235) notes that in his day, many in France were also unable to properly pronounce the hushing sound of the letter “Shin”.
[7] The region which Jews historically referred to as “Lithuania” or “Lita” included the territory of present-day BelarusLatvia, and Lithuania – and even parts of EstoniaPolandRussia, and Ukraine.
[8] See Turei Zahav note 30 to Shulhan Arukh Orah Haim 128:33
[9] Weinreich, Uriel. (1952). Sábesdiker Losn in Yiddish: A Problem of Linguistic Affinity. Word, 8, page 58. I thank Vilnius-based Professor Dovid Katz for making me aware of this important article.
[10] Ibid, page 70.
[11] While researching this topic, I took note of the fact that while Sabesdiker Losn was such a new concept to me, many Yeshiva graduates in their sixties whom I interacted with instantly recognized this phenomenon. Several shared with me fond memories of their older Lithuanian-born and educated teachers who would refer to ‘Rasi’ instead of ‘Rashi’. (For one such light-hearted published account see page 40 in Rakeffet-Rothkoff, Aaron. From Washington Avenue to Washington Street. Jerusalem: Gefen Publishing House / OU Press, 2011.) Why then was the concept of Sabesdiker Losn so new to me? I soon realized that in addition to Prof. Weinreich’s explanations (above) regarding the disappearance of Sabesdiker Losn, there was another factor which he never could have foreseen: the utter decimation of Lithuanian Jewry during the Holocaust. As a child who only began his Jewish day school education in the late 1970’s, I simply never had the chance to interact with authentic Lithuanian-born and educated teachers like many Yeshiva graduates a generation or two older than me had.  
[12] As such, this version of Lithuanian Yiddish might be described as “Shabeshdiker Loshn”. I thank Dr. Edward Portnoy of Rutgers University’s Department of Jewish Studies and YIVO’s Academic Advisor, as well as Isaac Bleaman – a doctoral student in the Department of Linguistics at New York University – for clarifying this important point for me.
[13] Peltz, Rakhmiel. (2008). The Sibilants of Northeastern Yiddish: A Study in Linguistic Variation. In Kiefer, Ulrike and Neumann, Robert and Herzog, Marvin and Sunshine, Andrew and Putschke, Wolfgang (eds.), EYDES (Evidence of Yiddish Documented in European Societies), 241-274. Berlin, New York: Walter de Gruyter – Max Niemeyer Verlag. Page 255.
[14] Peltz also notes (page 255) that some Lithuanian Jews even confused the hissing and hushing sounds within the same term / phrase. For example, some might refer to a house of study / prayer as the bešmedres instead of besmedraš. One rabbi I communicated with told me he remembered hearing a highly-regarded Lithuanian-born and educated rabbi refer to his NY study hall as the bešmedres.
[15] For more information on Rabbi E. Silver’s work with the Vaad Hatzala, see Rakeffet-Rothkoff (ibid.) pages 186-250.
[16] Bunim, Amos. A Fire in His Soul: Irving M. Bunim, 1901-1980, the Man and His Impact on American Orthodox Jewry. Jerusalem: Feldheim Publishers, 1989. Pages 166-7.
[17] The story concludes with Senator Taft eventually being reached in Washington, DC. After vouching for Rabbi Silver, the rabbi was released and allowed to continue his mission on behalf of the Vaad Hatzala.
[18] Rakeffet-Rothkoff (ibid.) page 43.
[19] In addition, Rabbi Hershel Schachter of Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary related to me that he remembers hearing Rabbi Eliezer Silver pronounce Cincinnati – the city where he served as rabbi for close to 40 years – as “Shinshinati”.
[20] Pictures of this document and its accompanying stamp can be seen in KI’s 75th Anniversary Yearbook (1977) pages 5 – 6.
[21] i.e. they pronounced the word ‘Sibboleth’ as ‘Shibboleth’. In suggesting an explanation for KI’s name, someone already alluded to this point on the Shul’s Wikepedia page (here) with the following sentence: “One explanation is that the “s” and “sh” sounds were conflated in the Lithuanian Yiddish pronunciation of the time.” This was attributed to the following sentence on YIVO’s website (here):” . . . much traditional Lithuanian Yiddish collapses the hushing and hissing consonants (“confusion of sh and s sounds”), a feature most Litvaks have tried to overcome in recent generations.” See footnote 12.
[22] See for example, (1903, April 2). Jewish Synagogue Gets a Cemetery. Harrisburg Daily Independent, page 1, and (1903, April 9). Passover Services. HarrisburgTelegraph, page 3.
[23] See KI’s 75th Anniversary Yearbook (1977), page 4, and Rakeffet-Rothkoff (ibid.) page 53 which record that from 1907 – 1911, Rabbi E. Silver served the entire Orthodox Jewish community of Harrisburg – and was not employed by any one congregation exclusively.
[24] Interestingly, like Rabbi E. Silver, it seems that KI’s Lithuanian founders were also from the Kovno region. One finds the directive to follow the customs of Kovno at least twice in KI’s constitution (see KI constitution pages 8 and 22).
[25] A picture of this constitution’s cover page appears on page 5 of KI’s 75th Anniversary Yearbook. I thank Rabbi Ahron Silver (Rabbi David L. Silver’s son) of Jerusalem, Israel for e-mailing me photos he took of this important historical document. I also thank KI’s Dr. Sandy Silverstein and Dr. Mark Cohen for helping me obtain an original copy of this constitution.
[26] The congregation is referred to as קשר ישראל several times within the constitution as well – but never as  כתר ישראל.
[27] It seems that while Rabbi Eliezer Silver was quite concerned with the congregation’s Hebrew name, he did not concern himself in ensuring the congregation’s English name would be firmly registered as ‘Keser Israel’. I would suggest that the spelling of the synagogue’s English name was of little or no concern to Rabbi E. Silver. After all, it was the Hebrew word קשר which conjured up all sorts of negative connotations in his mind – not the English transliteration of that word.
[28] Rakeffet-Rothkoff (ibid.) page 54, and KI’s 75th Anniversary Yearbook (1977), page 4.
[29] Kesher Israel’s 1949 Dedication Book page 11. Interestingly, this book was published the same year it dedicated its new building. Just like the congregation’s new cornerstone, the Dedication Book records the Hebrew name of KI as  כתר ישראל, and its English name as ‘Kesher Israel Synagogue’.
[30] Just beneath the words:בית הכנסת כתר ישראל חברה ש”ס – האריסבורג, פא.  (Keser Israel Synagogue Hevra Shas – Harrisburg, PA.) on that sign, appear the words:  נתיסדה ע”י הרב מהר”א זילבער שליט”א, זאת חנוכה  התרס”ח (Established by the rabbi our teacher Rabbi Eliezer Silver, may he live for many good and long days, the 8th day of Hanukah, 5668). That date corresponds to December 8, 1907. While the Hevra Shas may have begun studying the Talmud together in Harrisburg on that date, KI would not have created this sign – which claimed the Hevra Shas as its own – until some time after February of 1911 when Rabbi E. Silver officially became KI’s rabbi.
[31] For a nice write-up on this special book, see here.
[32] Though the book contains several hundred pages, only the first 16 were ever used.
[33] On the book’s back cover, KI’s name is written in English as ‘Keser Israel Congregation’. That is the only example I could find where KI’s English name was ever officially recorded that way.
[34] While only those who have lost a parent remain in the sanctuary during the actual recitation of Yizkor, the entire congregation gathers again in KI’s sanctuary for the collective Kel Maleh prayers once Yizkor has been completed.
[35] For more on Cantor Rockoff, see here.



An Unknown Picture

An Unknown Picture
Marc B. Shapiro
In the post that went up earlier today, I mention that in the future I plan to share an unknown picture of R. Moshe Feinstein and R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. My intention was to include this picture in a future post, but that could be awhile, so here it is.

 

It was taken at the wedding of R. Moshe Dovid Tendler’s daughter, Rivka, to R. Shabtai Rappaport. The man on the left is R. Isaac Tendler, R. Moshe Dovid’s father. The wedding took place at the Pioneer Country Club, Greenfield Park, N.Y., on June 17, 1971. I thank Jack Prince who was at the wedding for allowing me to make a copy of the picture in his possession.



Open Orthodoxy and Its Main Critic, part 1

Open Orthodoxy and Its Main Critic, part 1
Marc B. Shapiro

Please note: The conversation in the comments, while of importance, does not fit the focus of the Seforim Blog. Anyone who wishes to continue can email Dr. Shapiro or the conversation can be continued on a different website.
1. Those who follow Jewish debates on the internet have probably heard of Rabbi Avrohom Gordimer, who has assumed the mantle of defender of the faith. He sees his goal as exposing the non-Orthodox nature of Open Orthodoxy, and has spent many hundreds of hours reading everything written by Open Orthodox figures (and their spouses), looking for a problematic sentence in order to pounce on them. He not only attacks the Open Orthodox rabbis but also shows his contempt for them by generally refusing to even mention their names. Instead, he refers to an unnamed Open Orthodox rosh yeshiva or rabbi and you don’t know who he is speaking about until you click on the link. I realize he doesn’t respect these figures, but to even deny them the simple courtesy of mentioning their names, as if to do so is muktzeh mehamat mius, is in my opinion simply disgraceful (albeit a common writing style in the haredi world).
This obsession with the Open Orthodox reminds me of how in earlier centuries Christian zealots “could declare themselves ‘crusaders’, join a company of St. Peter Martyr, and assume a special responsibility for denouncing suspicious behaviour to the Holy Office.”[1] It also reminds me of how in previous years the right wing would constantly attack YU and Modern Orthodoxy. Now that the Open Orthodox are under attack, YU and Modern Orthodoxy re getting a pass. But make no mistake about it, if there wasn’t an Open Orthodoxy to kick around, YU and Modern Orthodoxy would once again be the focus. It appears to me, and many others, that all of Rabbi Gordimer’s attacks are pretty meaningless by now, as we get it, he doesn’t like Open Orthodoxy and he thinks that they are not “Orthodox” (a Christian term which perhaps it is time to jettison). Simply drumming this point continuously is not going to make it any clearer.[2]
R. Kook famously said that the righteous do not complain about heresy but add faith.[3] In other words, they always focus on the positive. Now the truth is that this quote, taken by itself, is problematic, as we have examples where R. Kook himself complained about heresy. I think that the passage therefore must be speaking in generalities. In other words, he doesn’t mean that the righteous never complain, but that their essential nature does not focus on the negative and finding the flaws in others. Rather, they are focused on adding faith in order to show the truth of their own position.
Rabbi Gordimer gives us a continuing list of controversial statements from people identified with Open Orthodoxy. As mentioned, he will spend hours and hours reading their material until he finally hits pay dirt. We are never told about any of the good things he sees in the writers he so often attacks, and how 99% of what he reads in their writings is not objectionable. I also find it most curious (but not unexpected) that it is only the left who are subjected to this type of detailed examination, all in order to find material with which to attack them. What about people on the right who also say objectionable things? Why are they not subjected to the same criticisms? How come he criticizes Open Orthodox figures for their liberal Zionism, but never says a word of criticism about the anti-Zionism found in Satmar and other haredi groups? The question is rhetorical.
Another problem is that while Rabbi Gordimer himself tries to stick to the issues, the comments to his posts, which have to be approved before being posted, sometimes do contain derogatory and insulting remarks about individuals. How can anyone view this as appropriate?
I have no difficulty if someone wants to criticize, even sharply, Open Orthodox writers, as long as there are no personal attacks. In fact, if the criticisms of Rabbi Gordimer and others were offered on a basis of friendship and common purpose, I can tell you without hesitation that the Open Orthodox writers would be grateful for the criticism and dialogue, as they want nothing more than to engage with all segments of the Jewish world, including the more right wing elements.
As mentioned above, I find it most objectionable that all of Rabbi Gordimer’s (and others’) criticism is of the left, never the right. I have made this point in a number of lectures. Occasionally, individuals have replied to me that it is unfair to compare Open Orthodox ideas with actions of people identified with the haredi world, as these actions are simply the result of people making mistakes and say nothing about haredi Judaism itself. Thus, they claim, if a criminal is haredi, this has nothing to do with the ideals or teachings of haredi society.
While there is some truth to this argument, it is not entirely true. For example, the widespread cover-ups of sexual abuse in haredi society, and the reluctance to go to the authorities, are directly related to haredi ideology. Yet Rabbi Gordimer has never commented on this. I also have no doubt that some financial crimes in the haredi world, including by institutions such as yeshivot, are often related to both the structure of haredi society, which leads many into poverty, and also haredi teachings that may downplay or even deny the halakhic prohibition of certain white collar criminal activity. And you don’t need me to say this. Haredim say the same thing all the time. I mention this only to stress that just as I would be the first to say that there is plenty to criticize in Open Orthodox thought, there is also plenty to criticize in haredi thought (and also in Centrist thought). In fact, as we shall soon see, one can find things written by those on the right that I think many readers, including haredim, would find even more objectionable than what Rabbi Gordimer has written about.
Before going further, let me note that there is much that Rabbi Gordimer criticizes that I don’t find at all objectionable, and I will give an example of this below. By the same token, there are aspects of the Open Orthodox critique of haredism and Centrism that I do not share, and I don’t expect either the haredim or the Open Orthodox to agree with everything I write either. But that is OK, as no one can expect everyone to agree on everything. Well-founded criticism is a vital part of any society and must be appreciated. Just as there is what to criticize in all camps, there is also a great deal to praise in all camps (and in some areas, in particular Torah study and respect for Torah scholarship, the haredi world is far superior to what is found among non-haredim in the United States).
As noted already, Rabbi Gordimer is an avid reader of Open Orthodox writings. In fact, I think he has read more such writings than anyone else (even more than the Open Orthodox!), and yet he is not able to come up with anything positive that they say or do. This shows me that he is not being fair, as I can give a long list of great things that Open Orthodox rabbis have done across the country, things that even the most right wing would applaud. I can do the same with haredi rabbis and I guarantee you that Open Orthodox rabbis would applaud. Contrary to the mean caricatures one finds online, the Open Orthodox are some of the most genuine and giving people I have ever met, and I say this as one who has never been an adherent of Open Orthodoxy. The Open Orthodox leadership and its rabbis show respect not only for those on their left (which leads Rabbi Gordimer and others to criticize them) but also for those on their right, as I can attest from many years of personal interaction. (When I speak of respect for those on their right, I am not referring to people like myself, but of Torah scholars firmly ensconced in the haredi world who do not reciprocate this respect.) In short, we must recognize there is a lot of good in all camps and we should support positive developments no matter where they originate.
Furthermore, it is important for the halakhic community to understand that there needs to be different paths for different people as not everyone has the same spiritual make-up. It is therefore important to have responsible halakhic authorities who can speak to the different communities. Rather than engaging in constant criticism, Rabbi Gordimer should be happy that the communities on the left are able to turn to an outstanding talmid chacham such as R. Dov Linzer, as he understands their situation and can provide proper guidance. I encourage people to examine some of R. Linzer’s recent halakhic writings here.
Returning to an earlier comment I made, if the point of all the criticism of Open Orthodoxy is the protection of authentic Judaism by countering the distortions on the left, then shouldn’t the distortions on the right also be countered? Aren’t these also dangerous, even more dangerous as they reach a wider range of people and are regarded as authentic Torah teachings by many? Since Rabbi Gordimer and others only look to criticize those to their left, never those to their right, they must ask themselves if the protection of Judaism is really their only goal, or if, unconsciously perhaps, their crusade against Open Orthodoxy also has other motivations.
When I have mentioned these points to various people, they always ask me to provide examples of what I am talking about, i.e., of writings from the haredi world that should be criticized by Rabbi Gordimer in the same way he criticizes what Open Orthodox writers are saying. There are lots of examples I could give (and readers can find some of them in previous posts), but let me choose a book that was actually removed from a synagogue library because of the views expressed in it.[4]
In 2007 Rabbi Dovid Kaplan published Major Impact.[5]
It has a chapter entitled “Jews and Goyim”. The chapter begins as follows:
Every Shabbos in Kiddush we declare that HaKadosh Baruch Hu chose us from all the nations. At every Havdalah we declare that we’re as different from them as day is from night. It’s always interesting to see examples of just how different we are. So read this chapter and then enjoy your next Kiddush and Havdalah.
Here are some examples from the chapter:

We once took our kids on a trip to the United States. A goy on the plane asked me how many children we have. I told him five. “How old are they,” he asked. “The oldest is eight, and the youngest is three months.” “Wow,” he said with a look of disbelief, “you have twins?”

COMMENT: The idea of bringing children into the world on a regular basis was utterly foreign to his way of thinking. 

The Polish maid brought her fiancé to meet her employer, Rebbetzin Ruchama Shain. “You have to treat your wife with respect,” she said. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll only beat her if she disobeys me,” responded the big shaigetz.

COMMENT: And he’ll only steal if he doesn’t have enough money. And he’ll only kill if he’s upset. And he’ll only . . . 

Shechitah houses often employ goyim, big strong ones, to help with the animals. A friend related the following incident to me. A cow had just been shechted. One of the goyim walked over with an empty cup, filled it with blood that was oozing from the neck, and then drank it down.

COMMENT: For him there’s no issue. For us it’s unimaginable. 

I once saw a young boy sitting on a fence at the zoo. A little old goyish lady wearing a zoo maintenance outfit approached him. “Come on down off that fence honey,” she said, “cuz I don’t want you to fall.” Wow, I thought to myself. It’s nice of her to be so concerned. I was really impressed, but only briefly. “cuz if you fall there’ll be brains all over the place, and I don’t wanna hafta clean up no brains.”

COMMENT: Can you imagine a Jewish bubby ever talking like that? 

Dr. Jacobs was making his rounds through the ward accompanied by Dr. Obama [!], an African-American. “What’s happening with Mr. O’Neill?” he asked Dr. Obama. 

“Her blood pressure is up and she has a little edema. Other than that she’s fairly stable.”

“I asked about Mr. O’Neill.”

“And I answered. ”

“But why did you refer to him as ‘she’?”

“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know. Mr. O’Neill is eighty-eight years old. Back in Africa our native tribe has a custom. Once a man passes eighty-five and can’t do much, he’s referred to as ‘she.’”

COMMENT: We place older people on a pedestal and make every effort to make them feel important. Anything that may even remotely reduce their dignity is by definition pasul. And them? Yuch![6]

I realize that most of these stories are made up in order to make non-Jews look bad, but this last one is really stupid, even as a racist story, since when was the last time you heard an African-American referring to the customs of his native tribe? Also, in case anyone missed it, the name “Obama” is probably not an accident.
I don’t think there is any need for me to elaborate on how offensive this material is. Everyone understands how we would react if the focus was Jews and if one were to extrapolate from a (phony) story with one Jew to the entire Jewish people. The ideology expressed in this book (and others like it) is in direct opposition to everything I was taught about how Torah is supposed to make one a more refined individual. I also wonder, how many potential baalei teshuvah who picked up this book were turned off to Judaism after reading what I have quoted?[7]
I have no doubt that Rabbi Gordimer agrees with me that the views expressed in this book are not in line with what we should stand for as a people. So will we see a condemnation of this book and of ones that express similar views, or do they get a pass because they emanate from the haredi world?
Despite my great opposition to this book, I am willing to acknowledge that other things the author has written can be valuable. Why can’t Rabbi Gordimer, despite his criticism of Open Orthodox writers, admit that even if he disagrees with them about certain things, they can still make valuable contributions in areas where he would agree with them? In sum, when Rabbi Gordimer begins criticizing the problems in the haredi and centrist worlds with the same enthusiasm (or even half the enthusiasm) as he takes on writers in the Open Orthodox world, then I and many others might begin to take him seriously as someone who can offer a valuable perspective.
I should note that R. Yitzchok Adlerstein has made some comments relevant to the matter I have just discussed:

Mean-spirited and racist remarks made on comboxes on websites catering to the Chassidic community turn up quoted on anti-Semitic and anti-Israel websites. . . . Enough material exists to make it easy for intelligent outsiders to get beyond the posturing of spokespeople and learn about attitudes often expressed by the masses. For decades, observant Jews of all persuasions could go about their business flying under the radar of their neighbors. If they stayed out of trouble with the law (or did a good enough job at keeping malefactors out of the headlines), they were more than tolerated by other Americans. There are no longer any secrets. Every small group is the subject of inquiry, and the free sharing of information means that outside investigators quickly learn what people speak about behind closed doors. 

Agudath Israel undertook an impressive program of community education to parts of its membership regarding dina demalchuta[8] and chillul Hashem[9] in the aftermath of too many high-profile scandals. It will not be enough. The next exposés (they have already begun) will not deal so much with criminal behavior as with rejection and contempt. Many Americans who are not anti-Semitic will still not take kindly to the thought that large numbers of people, albeit minorities even within their own communities, have little or no regard for them as human beings, and no concern for their welfare. Those who take the policy of hen am levadad yishkon to the limit will soon learn that there are minimum expectations placed upon citizens not by law but by popular sentiment. If they wish to live as equals in the United States, they will have to come to some sort of modus vivendi with other Jewish values like darkhei shalom and genuine regard for the tzelem Elokim in all people.[10]

Let me now turn to the reason I have been discussing Rabbi Gordimer in the first place, and that is his attack on R. Ysoscher Katz found here. Rabbi Gordimer claims that there is no such thing as Modern Orthodox pesak, and that decisions by Modern Orthodox poskim “should look no different than if [they] were adjudicated by a chareidi posek; process (research) and product (conclusion) should be indistinguishable.” This is simply false, as anyone who knows the writings of Modern Orthodox poskim can attest. A posek is not a computer. All sorts of meta-halakhic considerations go into his rulings and this explains why a Modern Orthodox posek will come to different conclusions than haredi poskim on many issues. I am not referring to whether a tea bag can be used on Shabbat, as in this sort of case there shouldn’t be any differences between haredi and Modern Orthodox poskim, but in matters concerning which the two camps differ (e.g., the role of women) there will obviously be differences among the poskim.
For Rabbi Gordimer, all poskim share the same “process”. Not only is this historically incorrect, it isn’t even “doctrine”. Does he really think that there are any haredim who believe that Modern Orthodox poskim operate the same way as haredi poskim? Of course they don’t, which is precisely the reason why they reject Modern Orthodox halakhists, because they know that their meta-halakhic values influence their halakhic decisions. The haredim don’t oppose meta-halakhic values per se. Meta-halakhah has a very prominent place in haredi halakhah. It is the particular Modern Orthodox meta-halakhic values that they see as problematic.
I realize that for people reading this post what I have just said is neither new or even controversial. Many of you are probably wondering why I am even wasting my time in making an obvious point. So let me mention some important sources that you might have been unaware of that illustrate what I have been saying.
In 1951 R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik was asked if it was permitted to volunteer to serve as a chaplain in the U.S. armed forces, as this might lead to various halakhic problems, in particular with regard to Shabbat. Before analyzing the halakhic sources, R. Soloveitchik gives us an insight into the meta-halakhic factors that are operating within him. He confesses his lack of objectivity in a way that directly contradicts his portrayal of how Halakhic Man operates. A haredi posek who did not see any value in participating in larger American society could never have penned the following words, which stand as a complete rejection of Rabbi Gordimer’s point:
I have undertaken the research into the halakhic phase of this problem, which is fraught with grave political and social implications on the highest level of public relations, with utmost care and seriousness. Yet, I cannot lay claim to objectivity if the latter should signify the absence of axiological premises and a completely emotionally detached attitude. The halakhic inquiry, like any other cognitive theoretical performance, does not start out from the point of absolute zero as to sentimental attitudes and value judgments. There always exists in the mind of the researcher an ethico-axiological background against which the contours of the subject matter in question stand out more clearly. In all fields of human intellectual endeavor there is always an intuitive approach which determines the course and method of the analysis. Not even in exact sciences (particularly in their interpretive phase) is it possible to divorce the human element from the formal aspect. Hence this investigation was also undertaken in a similar subjective mood. From the very outset I was prejudiced in favor of the project of the Rabbinical Council of America and I could not imagine any halakhic authority rendering a decision against it. My inquiry consisted only in translating a vague intuitive feeling into fixed terms of halakhic discursive thinking.[11]
R. Soloveitchik’s description does not only apply to himself, but is how all poskim operate, although, with the possible exception of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, none of them have been as self-reflective as R. Soloveitchik. It would actually be a good project to interview different poskim and see how each of them formulate the role of intuition and their own “ethico-axiological background” in the formation of halakhic decisions. In R. Nachum Rabinovitch’s recently published Mesilot bi-Levavam,[12] he states that a posek who is not guided by broad ethical considerations, a pesak of his “is not worth the paper it is written on.” These ethical considerations will of course vary, depending on whether the posek is haredi or Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist.
Here are two examples of what I am talking about from R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, and which shows how wrong Rabbi Gordimer is in his assumption that one’s ideology doesn’t affect one’s halakhic decisions. R. Weinberg was asked about the halakhic permissibility of autopsies in the State of Israel. He wrote as follows (Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 42):
והנה זה דבר ברור, שלעולם לא יגיעו בארץ ישראל לדעה אחת . . . ופתרון השאלה תלוי הרבה בהערכת המצב בעולם הרפואה, וביחס אל המדינה ומוסדותיה; וגם בהבנת המצב במחקר מדע הרפואי, וביחס אל החכמים העוסקים במדע זה, הן במחקר והן בשמוש למעשה.
R. Weinberg explicitly tells us that how one decides the halakhah depends on how one evaluates a series of non-halakhic matters. One of these is how one relates to the State of Israel. Obviously, a haredi posek who sees no real significance to the State of Israel will be inclined to rule one way, while a posek who regards Jewish self-rule as being of momentous significance will be inclined to rule differently. None of what I am saying is at all radical or controversial. It is simply obvious to anyone who studies halakhic literature.
Elsewhere, as we have seen in previous posts, R. Weinberg states that if there is a dispute among halakhic authorities we must reject the view that will bring the Torah into disrepute in people’s eyes (Kitvei ha-Gaon Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, vol. 1, p. 60):
ואגלה להדר”ג [הגרא”י אונטרמן] מה שבלבי: שמקום שיש מחלוקת הראשונים צריכים הרבנים להכריע נגד אותה הדעה, שהיא רחוקה מדעת הבריות וגורמת לזלזול וללעג נגד תוה”ק.
Obviously, a posek from a closed haredi society is going to have a different view regarding whether a halakhic decision will bring the Torah into disrepute in people’s eyes. In fact, I would assume that such a posek would reject R. Weinberg’s statement completely, seeing it as giving in to modern values even when in opposition to Torah sources.
Although I can cite numerous other texts to support what I am saying, let me just add one more. The late R. Aharon Felder, She’elat Aharon, vol. 1, no. 12, responded to someone who claimed that R. Moshe Feinstein’s halakhic decisions were not at all influenced by his nature or surroundings. R. Felder completely rejects this claim and adds[13]:
לא נתנה תורה למלאכי השרת וזהו כלל גדול אף בקשר למנהיגי ופוסקי הדור.
I mention R. Felder since I have very fond memories of a Shabbat I spent as scholar-in-residence in his shul not long before his untimely passing. I was fortunate to be able to spend hours talking with him over that Shabbat, and by telephone afterwards. While people generally knew him as a posek, he was also full of information about great rabbis, many of whom he knew personally, and he was happy to share this information. Here is a picture of us together.
One of the interesting things I learnt from speaking to him was that he had semichah from R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin. I think this is very unusual as I have never met anyone else who received semichah from R. Zevin. This connection to R. Zevin probably explained something else that happened over the Shabbat which was also very unusual. On Shabbat morning R. Felder spoke. Usually, when there is a scholar-in-residence the rabbi does not speak, but R. Felder had something he wanted to say. He devoted most of the derashah, which dealt with the importance of truth, to my post here on ArtScroll’s censorship of R. Zevin’s Ha-Moadim ba-Halakhah. Having a derashah focus on a Seforim Blog post was certainly a new one for me. In the derashah, R. Felder mentioned that when he first learnt of the censorship years ago, he told Rabbi Meir Zlotowitz that what ArtScroll did was completely wrong, and that while they are entitled to disagree with what R. Zevin wrote, they had no right alter his words.
To Be Continued
2. This past year we were told that it was Agudath Israel of America’s 93rd convention. This convention was significant as the Agudah finally threw in the towel and accepted the internet, setting up a website for the convention and broadcasting live. See here. The Agudah now has its own website here.
This new policy came in through the back door, with no explanation as to why something that until now has been forbidden is now permitted. This was typical for the Agudah, and years from now we will probably be able to read in the official history of Agudath Israel of America how the Agudah was among the first to recognize the great value of the internet for spreading Torah, and how the Agudah immediately seized this opportunity. Also of interest is that although the website just mentioned is the official Agudah website, and reports on all that is going on with Agudath Israel of America, it is called the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative. Yet as anyone who examines the website can see, the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative is only a small part of the website. Apparently, there is still a problem with calling the Agudah website by its proper name so they had to use a bit of false advertising by referring to it as the Lefkowitz Leadership Initiative.
What about the “93rd convention”? This would mean that the first Agudath Israel of America convention was in 1923 (as we are speaking about annual conventions). How is this possible if Agudath Israel in America was not formed until 1939 and its first convention was held on July 9-11, 1939?[14] See here for a 1950 news report which speaks of the 28th annual convention. This would mean that the first convention was indeed in 1923. Yet see here for a 1947 news report that speaks of Agudah’s 9th annual convention. This would mean that the first convention was in 1939, which is indeed correct. In years prior to 1947 the reports of the Agudah conventions also give 1939 as the year of the first convention.
So what happened between 1947 and 1950 and how did the Agudah start portraying itself as having conventions before Agudath Israel of America even existed? Rabbi Moshe Kolodny, the Agudah archivist, informed me that the 93rd year is a commemoration of the founding of the American branch of the World Agudat Israel on July 20, 1921. (As already mentioned, Agudah Israel of America was itself not founded until 1939). The problem with this explanation is that the 2015 convention should then be the 95th convention, not the 93rd. This is quite apart from the fact that I don’t understand how the Agudah can speak of 93 conventions when until 1939 there weren’t any annual conventions for Agudath Israel of America.
1923 as a year is significant in Agudah history, as it is the year when the first World Agudath Israel convention took place in Vienna. This is the convention from which we have the recently discovered video of the Chafetz Chaim. What I think happened is that between 1947 and 1950 some Agudah functionary decided that the annual Agudath Israel of America convention should be tied to 1923, and that is why this year’s convention was called the 93rd convention. The problem with this is, as mentioned, not only that Agudah Israel of America has not had 93 conventions, but that even if you date the conventions to 1923, you still don’t get 93 conventions. I say this because while the first world Agudah convention was held in 1923, this was not a yearly event. The next world convention was not held until 1929.
I have told this to a number of people and they are all surprised. Yet I find it hard to believe that I am the first person to point out that there have not been 93 annual conventions. Maybe some of the readers who attended the convention can weigh in. Can it really be that no one in attendance realized the problem involved in advertising it as the 93rd convention?
I realize that next year when the Agudah announces its 94th convention, opponents of the Agudah will, based on this post, write about how 94 is an incorrect number. But the more important point is that the Agudah actually has an annual convention. Mizrachi used to have an annual convention, but it is no more. Isn’t it significant that the Modern Orthodox have nothing to equal the annual Agudah convention?
3. A couple of months ago I was speaking to two people and one of them asked me why, if the right wing is so opposed to Open Orthodoxy, that they don’t just put its leaders in herem. I replied that in today’s day and age we don’t find anyone being put in herem. They will put books in herem but not individuals, as we saw with R. Nathan Kamenetsky and R. Natan Slifkin. Why don’t they put people in herem anymore? The answer usually given is that no one will pay attention to the herem.[15] Yet people don’t pay attention to the herems on books either, and that hasn’t stopped them from banning books.
In the discussion one of the people said that if they would put a herem on the leaders of Open Orthodoxy, they would have to also to put a herem on some women, and this would never work.  As he put it, the negative publicity would be too much, as the rabbis would be portrayed as big bullies coming after defenseless women. I have no idea if this is the reason why they haven’t put a herem on the Open Orthodox leadership, but I have to confess that I had never thought of the female angle. It probably is the case that putting women in herem would create a public relations nightmare that would equal what we have seen with the sexual abuse cover-ups and the declarations that basic historical and scientific knowledge is to be regarded as heresy. (In fact, I think that even putting men in herem in this day and age would lead to a big backlash.) That then got me thinking, how often in Jewish history have women been put in herem? I am only aware of the following cases: one in the Talmud,[16] two others discussed by R. David Ibn Zimra[17] and R. Meir Katzenellenbogen[18] respectively, and another two separate cases that involved many Italian rabbis.[19] Yet there must be others.
4. As I write this post, Yosef Mizrachi is in the news. It began with his unbelievably ignorant comments about the Holocaust and soon moved into other outrageous things he said, both about the Holocaust and in general.[20] Years ago I found another really offensive comment about the Holocaust, yet in this case the author was actually a well-known posek. In seeking to explain why the Holocaust occurred, R. Ovadiah Hadaya writes as follows, in words that sound like they could have been said by Mizrachi:[21]
לפעמים יש הרבה ממזרים בישראל שלא ידועים ואז הקב”ה מוכרח למחותם וכדי שלא יתביישו משפחתם אז הקב”ה נותן רשות למשחית להרוג גם טובים עמהם בכדי שלא יורגשו מי הם הממזרים.
Just think about the implications of this statement. 6 million pure Jewish souls, including 1 million children, are destroyed, and R. Hadaya suggests this was done to get rid of the mamzerim. Furthermore, in order not to embarrass the families of the mamzerim all the rest had to be killed as well, as if the omnipotent God couldn’t come up with some other way to take care of this. I don’t think that this passage can even be called “theodicy”, as theodicy is the defense of God’s goodness and omnipotence in the face of evil. The theology of this passage, if accepted as true, would actually lead people to doubt God’s goodness and omnipotence.
One day, not long after I found this passage, I was in the National Library of Israel reading room, and there, as usual, was Prof. David Weiss Halivni. I was very comfortable talking with him, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about what R. Hadaya said. I thought it might really unsettle him, seeing how a rabbi could give this explanation as to why all his loved ones were slaughtered in the most cruel way. In the end, I decided to share it with him. All Prof. Halivni said, and this is applicable to Mizrachi as well, is that when it comes to the Holocaust Sephardim simply don’t get it. What he meant was that not having the personal connection to the Holocaust, their discussions of it are without the emotional intensity one finds in the Ashkenazic world. In the Ashkenazic world, detached explanations of the sort offered by R. Hadaya and Mizrachi would be too offensive to even consider.
[1] Brian Pullan, The Jews of Europe and the Inquisition of Venice, 1550-1670 (London, 1997),  p. 100.
[2] If one looks at the attacks that have been made on Open Orthodoxy by Rabbi Gordimer and others, you will find the Open Orthodox placed together with Early Christians, Sadducees, Reform, and Conservative Jews. A friend commented that it is a wonder that they aren’t also compared to Sabbateans. I replied that this is probably only because the attackers are unaware of the fact that Shabbetai Zvi gave women aliyot, a step that Gershom Scholem describes as the “substitution of a messianic Judaism for the traditional and imperfect one.” See Sabbatai Zvi, p. 403.
[3] Shemonah Kevatzim 2:99.          
[4] It would be interesting to create a list of books removed from synagogue libraries for heresy or other reasons. When I was in yeshiva in Israel (and some of my classmates will probably remember this episode), Rabbi Alfred Kolatch’s Second Jewish Book of Why popped up in the beit midrash. This volume, and the others in Kolatch’s series, were extremely popular and sold more than 1.5 million copies. See here. Kolatch was a Yeshiva College graduate but he was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary. One of the teachers at the yeshiva insisted on having the book removed because the author was a Conservative rabbi. This teacher also wanted to show that Kolatch was an ignoramus. He pointed to a passage, p. 294, where Kolatch discusses why women are not obligated in tzitzit. Kolatch mentions that most assume that it is a mitzvat aseh she-ha-zeman gerama. He also offers another option, that in ancient times the four-cornered type of garment to which tzitzit were attached was a male garment, so women never adopted the practice of tzitzit. The teacher mocked the notion that tzitzit had anything to do with a male garment, and was adamant that the only reason women do not wear tzitzit is because it is a time-bound positive commandment. Unbeknownst to the teacher, and I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning it to him at the time as I thought he might not take it well after making such a public case against Kolatch, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan includes tzitzit (and tefillin) as male garments which women are forbidden to wear. See Targum Ps. Jonathan, Deut. 22:5.
[5] This book was called to my attention by Michael Steel.
[6] It is true that observant Jews place older people on a pedestal. Sometimes they may even go too far. R. Solomon Kluger, one of the most outstanding nineteenth-century poskim, has a passage that is very difficult to understand. It appears in his commentary on the Shulhan Arukh, Hokhmat Shlomo, Hoshen Mishpat 426.
According to R. Kluger, if one has to put oneself in a degrading situation or if it requires too much effort to save the life of another, then one doesn’t have to do it. In giving an example of טרחה יתרה he mentions an old person, who according to R. Kluger would not be obligated to trouble himself excessively to save the life of another. Many have discussed this strange passage (and surprisingly, a number of the discussions do not note that at the end R. Kluger appears to backtrack from his hiddush). R. Moshe Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah 2, p. 290, uses the following very strong language regarding R. Kluger’s suggestion:
הוא טעות גמור ושרי להו מרייהו, דדברי חכמת שלמה הא ודאי ח”ו לאומרם.
As we have come to expect, at least one scholar questioned the authenticity of R. Kluger’s words, a phenomenon we find whenever a radical position is expressed. But in this case the scholar I am referring to is the great R. Reuven Margaliyot who should have known better. He writes (Nefesh Hayah, 13:3):
והנה על כגון דא בוודאי אמרו דחדש אסור מן התורה ותמה אני אם יצאו דברים הללו מפיו הקדוש.
When I first saw R. Kluger’s words, I thought of R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 251:9:
ואפילו חכם לכסות ועם הארץ להחיות [החכם קודם] ואשת חבירו כחבר.
Many understand להחיות to mean literally to save from death. I think most will offer a sigh of relief that the Shakh writes:
בזמן הזה שאין תלמיד חכם . . . כל שכן דאין לדחות פקוח נפש מפניו.
[7] Contrast what appears in Kaplan’s book with what R. Ahron Soloveichik wrote:

Every human being, regardless of religion, race, origin, or creed, is endowed with divine dignity. Consequently all people are to be treated with equal respect and dignity.  

Anyone who fails to apply a uniform standard of mishpat, justice, tzedek, righteousness, to all human beings regardless of origin, color or creed is deemed barbaric.  

People who refuse to grant any human being the same respect that they offer to their own race or nationality are adopting a barbaric attitude.

The quotations all come from R. Soloveichik’s Logic of the Heart, Logic of the Mind (Jerusalem, 1991), and are discussed in Meir Soloveichik’s recent essay, “Founding Brothers”: The Rav, Rav Ahron, and the American Idea,” in Soloveichik, et al., eds., Torah and Western Thought: Intellectual Portraits of Orthodoxy and Modernity (New Milford, CT, 2015), pp. 96ff.
Torah and Western Thought is quite an interesting book and I highly recommend it. It also contains essays on R. Kook, R. Isaac Herzog, Nehama Leibowitz, R. Immanuel Jakobovits, R. Yehuda Amital, R. Aharon Lichtenstein, R. Norman Lamm, and Prof. Isadore Twersky. For obvious reasons the essay on Twersky, written by Carmi Horowitz, was of particular interest to me, and I was very happy to read, p. 258 n. 26, that Rabbi David Shapiro “is now editing and preparing for publication more than twenty years of Rabbi Twersky’s divrei Torah delivered at the Talner Beit Midrash.”
[8] As long ago as 1819, Leopold Zunz wrote about “the persistent delusion, contrary to law, that it is permissible to cheat non-Jews.” See Amos Elon, The Pity of It All: A Portrait of the Germany-Jewish Epoch, 1743-1933 (New York, 2002),  p. 113. In an earlier post here I wrote:

Isn’t all the stress on following dina de-malchuta revealing? Why can’t people simply be told to do the right thing because it is the right thing? Why does it have to be anchored in halakhah, and especially in dina de-malchuta? Once this sort of thing becomes a requirement because of halakhah, instead of arising from basic ethics, then there are 101 loopholes that people can find, and all sorts of heterim.

After writing this I heard R. Jeremy Wieder’s shiur on the topic of dina de-malchuta dina (available here) and he makes some very similar points.

[9] This is a mistake. It is not Hashem (with a capital “H”, implying “God”) but hashem (or ha-shem). I.e., it is not a desecration of God but of His name. Thus, one should writeחילול השם  not חילול ה’. See Lev. 22:32: ולא תחללו את שם קדשי. Nissim Dana titled his 1989 translation of one of R. Abraham Maimonides’ works ספר המספיק לעובדי השם. Yet the last two words should be ‘לעובדי ה.
Regarding the use the “Hashem”, I found something very confusing in the ArtScroll Stone Chumash. In place of the Tetragrammaton, ArtScroll does not use the word “Lord” but “HASHEM”, as this is how people pronounce the Tetragrammaton. While ArtScroll is the first translation to adopt this approach, it does have a certain logic. However, this logic breaks down a few times on p. 319 when the ArtScroll commentary attempts to explain what occurs at the beginning of parashat Va-Era. For example, “Or HaChaim comments that God’s essence is represented by the name HASHEM.” This makes no sense, as there is no name HASHEM. The commentary should have written that “God’s essence is represented by the four letter name of God.”
[10] “Digital Orthodoxy: The Making and Unmaking of a Lifestyle,” in Yehuda Sarna, ed., Developing a Jewish Perspective on Culture (New York, 2014), pp. 280-281.
[11] Community, Covenant and Commitment, ed. N. Helfgot (Jersey City, 2005), pp. 24-25. See also The Rav Speaks (Brooklyn, 2002), pp. 49-50: “I once said that there exists problems for which one cannot find a clear-cut decision in the Shulchan Aruch (code of Jewish law); one has to decide intuitively.” For another example where we see that R. Soloveitchik did not operate as Halakhic Man, see R. Menachem Genack, “My First Year in the Rav’s Shiur,” in Zev Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations (Jersey City, 2008), p. 171:

I went to be menachem avel [console the mourner] at his home on Hancock Road in Brookline on Shushan Purim. His aveilus on Shushan Purim itself was something of a chiddush: although the Mechaber writes that one should sit shivah on Shushan Purim, the Remah rules that one should not. And Rav Soloveitchik said that, should he be asked to pasken the question, he would follow the opinion of the Remah. But he himself could not do otherwise than sit shivah on that day. Sitting shivah was the only way he could express himself that day – psychologically he could not do otherwise.

It is impossible to imagine that the Rav’s uncle, R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik, would have ever consciously allowed his emotions to influence how he decided halakhah. See e.g., here where I write: “Another such example of this is the report that when one of R. Velvel’s sons died shortly after birth, and the family was crying, he was insistent that they stop their tears, since there is no avelut before thirty days.”

[12] (Ma’aleh Adumim, 2015), p. 512.                                                           
[13] R. Menahem Azariah of Fano even states that one can ignore a conclusion of R. Samuel Di Medina as he was angry when he wrote a particular responsum. See She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rama mi-Fano, no. 109.
                                                                                              
ואין לחוש לדברי הר”ש די מדינה שכתב ההפך מזה, כי נראין הדברים מתוך התשובה שבא לכלל כעס עם אחד העם שהיה מנהיג כך והוא מוחזק בעיניו שהיה עושה כן להתיהר ושלא לש”ש.
On the other hand, see here for the following story told by R. Eliezer Melamed in which R. Zvi Yehudah Kook turns his father into a religious robot, completely lacking any natural emotion.
פעם ליווה אבי מורי את הרצי”ה בלכתו מהישיבה לביתו, ואז סיפר לו הרצי”ה שלאחר פטירת הרב חיים עוזר גרודז’ינסקי מוילנא, קיימו לזכרו אזכרה בירושלים. אחד הספדנים אמר בתוך דבריו, שאצל רבי חיים עוזר האהבה לישראל לא קלקלה את השורה, והוא אהב את מי שצריך לאהוב. ומתוך דבריו נרמזה ביקורת על מרן הרב קוק, שנפטר שנים ספורות לפני כן, שכביכול אצלו האהבה קלקלה את השורה. דברים אלו ציערו וקוממו את הרצי”ה. זמן לא רב אח”כ התקיימה האזכרה השנתית של מרן הרב קוק, ואז הזכיר הרצי”ה את המשנה בברכות (לג, ב): “האומר על קן ציפור יגיעו רחמיך . . . משתקין אותו”. וזאת משום שהוא תופס את מידותיו של הקב”ה כאילו יש בהן חולשה אנושית של רחמנות שחורגת ממידת הדין והצדק, ואילו האמת היא שגם רחמיו של הקב”ה הם גזרות מדויקות. וכך הוסיף הרצי”ה: הצדיקים הגדולים ההולכים בדרכי ה’, הרחמים שלהם ואהבת ישראל שלהם אינם רגש אנושי שסובל מחולשה וטעות, אלא הם גזרות הנובעות מעומקה של תורה. וכל מי שאומר על הצדיקים שמידותיהם רחמים – “משתקין אותו”! וכך חזר כמה פעמים ואמר כלפי אותו ספדן “משתקין אותו”!
[14] For the founding of Agudath Israel of America and its first convention, see Aharon Rakeffet-Rothkoff, The Silver Era in American Jewish Orthodoxy (Jerusalem/New York, 2000), pp. 162-163.
[15] If they started putting individuals in herem, one of the questions that would be raised is does the banned person’s spouse and children also have to abide by the herem. It is hard to see how a couple could remain married if that was the case. This matter is actually discussed by R. Solomon ben Adret, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rashba ha-Meyuhasot le-Ramban, no. 266. He informs us that R. Abraham ben David (Rabad) did not think that a wife has to observe the herem (we don’t know what he thought about the children). However, the Rashba disagrees and states the wife is indeed obligated to observe the herem.
[16] Nedarim 50b.
[17] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Radbaz, vol. 7, no. 50.
[18] See She’elot u-Teshuvot Maharam mi-Padua, no. 73.
[19] See Yakob Boksenboim, ed., Parashiyot me-Havai Yehudei Italyah ba-Meah ha-16 (Tel Aviv, 1986), pp. 29ff.; Nahum Rakover, “Shikulim be-Anishah: Hatalat Ones ke-she-ha-Avaryan Alul la-Tzet le-Tarbut Ra’ah o le-Hishtamed,” in Yitzhak Alfasi, ed., Ha-Ma’a lot li-Shelomo (n.p., 1995), pp. 367ff.
[20] R. Amnon Yitzhak actually spoke about Mizrachi’s statement before anyone else (someone obviously fed it to him). This youtube video was put up on October 25, 2015, two months before Mizrachi’s statement became an international scandal.

After the controversy broke, I looked around a bit and found that from a religious standpoint, Mizrachi has said something regarding the Holocaust that is much worse than what he was called to task over, as his comment defames many great rabbis. In the video below he has the chutzpah to think that he knows why so many tzadikim were killed in the Holocaust. He explains – I hope you are sitting down –  that they were not really complete tzadikim, and he identifies their supposed flaw. On the other hand, he states that the complete tzadikim were saved (and he makes the ridiculous statement that R. Aaron Kotler was a kiruv activist in Europe). Has anyone before Mizrachi ever made the appalling statement that survival of the Holocaust is proof that Rabbi X was more righteous than Rabbi Y who was murdered?

Contrast what Mizrachi said with what R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, a survivor of the Holocaust, said (Seridei Esh, vol. 1, p. 1):
רעדה תאחזני ובושה תכסה את פני לבוא ולספר על הנסים והנפלאות שנעשו עם אזוב קטן כמוני, אשר לא אדע במה לתלות נס-הצלתי, בוודאי לא מזכות יתירה, אלא ממיעוט זכות להמנות בין מקדשי השם הגדול והנורא
The only explanation R. Weinberg could give as to why he was miraculously saved was that he was not worthy enough to die al kiddush ha-shem.
In my Torah in Motion classes on R. Elchanan Wasserman I discuss the false claim that R. Elchanan returned to Europe “to die with his students.” I don’t know how this yeshiva myth arose. R. Elchanan left the United States in March 1939, more than five months before the German invasion of Poland. He didn’t know what was coming and would never have returned to Poland if he did. (R. Elchanan’s son, R. Simcha Wasserman, is reported to have made this exact point. See R. Ari Kahn’s post here.)

[21] Yaskil Avdi, vol. 8, p. 200. R. Hadaya was also a kabbalist but surprisingly he makes an obvious mistake, ibid., p. 97, as pointed out by R. Meir Mazuz in his just published Darkhei ha-Limud, p. 7. R. Chaim Vital, Sha’ar ha-Gilgulim, hakdamah 34, states:
והנה משה תחילה היה הבל בן אדם הראשון ואח”כ נתגלגל בשת ואח”כ בנח ואח”כ בשם בן נח
R. Hadaya writes:
הרי לך דעם שמשה היה אחרי כמה מאות שנים, מזמן הבל ושת ונח ובנו שם, עכ”ז נתגלגל בהם
According to R. Hadaya, what R. Vital is saying is that Moses was reincarnated into Abel, and then into Seth, Noah, and Shem, even though Moses lived many years after them. This would be a great mystery if R. Vital had said it, since how could a person be reincarnated into someone who lived before him? Yet this is not what R. Vital said. If you look at the quotation from Sha’ar ha-Gilgulim you can see that its point is that Abel was reincarnated as Seth, and then Noah, and then Shem, and in the end came Moses.



Bridging the Kabbalistic Gap Nefesh HaTzimtzum by Avinoam Fraenkel reviewed by Bezalel Naor

Bridging the Kabbalistic Gap
Nefesh HaTzimtzum by Avinoam Fraenkel
Vol. 1: Rabbi Chaim Volozhin’s Nefesh HaChaim with Translation and Commentary
Volume 2: Understanding Nefesh HaChaim through the Key Concept of Tzimtzum and Related Writings
(Jerusalem: Urim, 2015)
Reviewed by Bezalel Naor
Recently there has been a spate of English translations of the classic of Mitnagdic philosophy, Nefesh ha-Hayyim by Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin (1749-1821), eminent disciple of the Vilna Gaon. This is perhaps the most glorious—certainly the lengthiest—of the translations, one that attempts to rewrite the debate between Hasidim and Mitnagdim.
The present edition, the most extensive to date, is divided in two volumes. Volume One consists of a Hebrew-English edition of the entire book with the exception of the famous note by the author’s son, Rabbi Isaac (Itzeleh) of Volozhin, known as “Ma’amar Be-Tzelem.” That note and other related writings of Rabbi Hayyim have been translated in Volume Two. In a unique typesetting innovation, the translator divides the complex Hebrew sentences into phrases, easing the English reading.
In the lengthy introduction to Volume Two, entitled “Tzimtzum—The Key to Nefesh HaChaim,” Avinoam Fraenkel has carved out for himself a most ambitious goal: to tackle the perennial problem of latter-day Kabbalah, namely the Lurianic doctrine of Tzimtzum or divine self-contraction. Traditionally, there have been two schools of thought on the matter: those who hold “tzimtzum ki-peshuto,” i.e. the doctrine is to be taken literally; and those convinced that “tzimtzum she-lo ki-peshuto,” i.e. Tzimtzum is not to be taken literally. As Fraenkel points out, this terminology first gained currency in the debate between two Italian kabbalists, Rabbi Joseph Ergas (author Shomer Emunim) and Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi (author Yosher Levav) back in 1736-7.[1]
Fraenkel’s thesis is that even when things are “pashut” (simple), they truly are not so “pashut” (simple). Even when a kabbalist such as Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv (author Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah) writes boldly that he understands the doctrine literally as did the author of Yosher Levav—that requires complexification.
You might ask of what concern is this rarefied debate to the masses of Jews living in the twenty-first century. Ah! It just so happens that many if not most historians have assumed that this debate, which translates into transcendentalist versus immanentist theology, was at the heart of the terrible controversy between the Mitnagdim and Hasidim that tore apart East European Jewry in the late eighteenth century. At that time, the Vilna Gaon issued a herem, an official rabbinic ban excommunicating the followers of the Ba’al Shem Tov.
If it can be proven that there is essentially no difference of theology between the Tanya (the “Bible” of Hasidism), written by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Habad school of Hasidism, and the Nefesh ha-Hayyim (the “Shulhan ‘Arukh” of Mitnagdic ideology), then we will have dissolved any continuing animus between Hasidim and Mitnagdim, and “Shalom ‘al Yisrael” (Peace to Israel). This is the fondest wish of the author.
The truth is—as the author makes us aware—this is not the first attempt to smooth over theological differences between the Tanya and Nefesh ha-Hayyim. On the eve of World War Two, Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler—a preeminent master of the Mussar school, Mashgi’ah Ruhani of Gateshead and later of the Ponevezh Yeshivah in B’nei Berak—then residing in London, wished to issue a proclamation to the effect that there is essentially no mahloket, no difference of opinion between Rabbi Shneur Zalman and Rabbi Hayyim regarding the correct interpretation of Tzimtzum. Rabbi Dessler’s distinguished houseguest at the time was Rabbi Yitzhak Horowitz (known in Lubavitch as “Reb Itche Der Masmid,” on account of his legendary “hatmadah,” or devotion to learning), who acted as fundraiser on behalf of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Joseph Isaac Schneersohn. Rabbi Dessler asked Rabbi Horowitz to sign on the proclamation.
To make a long story short, eventually Rabbi Dessler’s overtures were forwarded to the son-in-law of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (eventual successor to his father-in-law as Rebbe of Lubavitch), who penned a formal reply. For the life of him, Rabbi M.M. Schneerson could not fathom how someone with competence in Kabbalah (which Rabbi Dessler certainly did possess) could fail to see the obvious differences between the Habad and Volozhin understandings of Tzimtzum. (Rabbi Schneerson further outlined that there was a difference between the Vilna Gaon and his student Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin regarding Tzimtzum, a point in the letter which continues to rile Mitnagdim to this day. In fact, Rabbi Yosef Zussman of Jerusalem, eminent disciple of Rabbi Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap, wrote several unanswered letters to the Lubavitcher Rebbe remonstrating how absurd it is to entertain the notion that Rabbi Hayyim, who adored his master the Gaon, disagreed with him on so basic an issue.)
Left without a “partner in peace” of the opposite camp, Rabbi Dessler’s proclamation was buried. Where titans such as Rabbis Dessler and Schneerson could not see eye to eye, Avinoam Fraenkel certainly has his work cut out for him. Before we proceed further to the “nuts and bolts” of the Tanya—Nefesh ha-Hayyim debate, the reader may wish to listen to some music pleasing to the ear:

·         When Rabbi Abraham Mordechai Alter, Rebbe of Gur (“Imrei Emet”) asked Rav Kook how he knew so much Hasidut, Rav Kook responded that he had studied Nefesh ha-Hayyim.
·         Rabbi Michael Eliezer Forshlager of Baltimore, a foremost student of Rabbi Avraham Bornstein, Rebbe of Sokhatchov (author Responsa Avnei Nezer) carried in his tallit bag a volume which consisted of Tanya and Nefesh ha-Hayyim bound together at Rabbi Forshlager’s special request.
·         Once around the family table in Brooklyn, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (by then Lubavitcher Rebbe) spoke so enthusiastically of Nefesh ha-Hayyim that his brother-in-law Rabbi Shemariah Gurary said in jest: “Then perhaps we Hasidim should take to studying Nefesh ha-Hayyim.”

Back to the mahloket. What are the cold facts concerning the debate?
It is incontrovertible that Rabbi Hayyim has stood the Zohar’s terms “memale kol ‘almin” (“filling all worlds”) and “sovev kol ‘almin” (“surrounding all worlds”) on their heads. What for the Tanya is “memale kol ‘almin,” is for Nefesh ha-Hayyim, “sovev kol ‘almin,” and vice versa. Rabbi Shelomo Fisher of Jerusalem has written that this is merely semantics.[2] Others read into the shift of terminology a substantive controversy as to Weltanschauung. What for Hasidism is common experience, namely the immanence, the immediate presence of God, is for Mitnagdism a recondite mystery reserved for the elite.
In the words of Rabbi Eizik of Homel, a major disciple of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi and of his son, Rabbi Dov Baer of Lubavitch (Mitteler Rebbe):

This belief is possessed by all the Hasidim, but the Mitnagdim, even those who are not etc. [the word etc. occurs in the original], do not have this faith, only in a very, very concealed manner, as Israel were in Egypt…They have no room for this faith that Altz iz Gott (All is God).[3]

Fraenkel observes that much of the “poisoning of the waters” was done by publication of a spurious letter attributed to the “Alter Rebbe,” Rabbi Shneur Zalman, in the anonymous Matzref ha-‘Avodah (Koenigsberg, 1858). Later the letter was incorporated in Heilman’s more responsible Beit Rebbi (Berdichev, 1902). In the forged epistle, Rabbi Shneur Zalman writes that it has come to his awareness that the Vilna Gaon understands Tzimtzum literally.
This letter contributed to Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson’s formulation concerning the Vilna Gaon’s view of Tzimtzum. One might mistakenly assume that once the letter is exposed as a forgery, Habad should have no problem accepting that there truly was no disagreement between the two rival camps concerning Tzimtzum. But Fraenkel knows that this is not the end of his troubles.
There is the matter of the passage in the second part of Tanya (titled Sha‘ar ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah) which reserves some pretty harsh language for the literalists:

…the error of some wise men in their own eyes, may the Lord forgive them, who erred and were mistaken in their study of the writings of the Ari, of blessed memory, and understood the doctrine of Tzimtzum mentioned there literally, that the Holy One, blessed be He, withdrew Himself and His essence, God forbid, from this world, only that He supervises from above.[4]

Who are the unnamed villains of this passage? To endeavor to answer this question, we would do well to research the printing history of the Tanya. The passage in question was missing from all editions of the Tanya printed before the year 1900. In that year, the passage surfaced in the Romm edition printed in Vilna at the behest of Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schneersohn of Lubavitch. Until that time, it had been preserved in manuscript in the keeping of the heirs of the Ba‘al ha-Tanya. That means that for over a century since the Tanya was first printed in Slavuta in 1796, this sensitive piece—a sort of J’accuse, if you will—was suppressed. Why was it ever suppressed to begin with, and why was it finally revealed in 1900?
An obvious solution would be that the passage obliquely lambasted the Vilna Gaon, and it was not until a century later that a direct descendant of the author felt that times had changed and that the sociological “climate” had warmed sufficiently to allow for an unexpurgated version of the Tanya to appear in print. This time, no herem would be issued in Vilna.
And for the record, Rabbi Menachem Mendel was not the first Schneerson to assume that the Gaon understood Tzimtzum literally. Earlier, the Rebbe of Kopyst, Rabbi Shelomo Zalman Schneerson (1830-1900), author Magen Avot, wrote in a letter to Rabbi Don Tumarkin: “This is the entire subject of Tzimtzum, and this is the Hasidism of the Ba‘al Shem Tov and the Maggid, may they rest in peace, that the Tzimtzum is not to be taken literally, as opposed to the opinion of the Mishnat Hasidim [i.e. Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi] and the Gaon Rabbi Elijah, of blessed memory.”[5]
Fraenkel is not willing to accept that the passage in Tanya is directed at the Vilna Gaon or earlier Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi. He stands in good company. Upon receipt of Hayyim Yitzhak Bunin’s Mishneh Habad II (Warsaw, 1933), Rav Kook wrote back to the author requesting that he retract his statement that the pejorative “wise men in their own eyes” refers to the author of Mishnat Hasidim and the Gaon of Vilna.[6]
But then the question remains. Who are the “bad guys” of the Tanya? Fraenkel would have us believe that the reference is to the likes of the crypto-Sabbatian Nehemiah Hiyya Hayyon, against whom Ergas inveighed in his polemical works Tokhahat Megulah and Ha-Tzad Nahash (London, 1715).[7]
If that were the case, the language of the Tanya is too mild and reserved. Sabbatians (believers in pseudo-Messiah Shabtai Tzevi) are usually treated to much more invective, such as “blasted be their bones.” There is a parallel passage in the work of Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz of Starosselje, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah. There the language is even more compassionate and conciliatory. It is hard to imagine that the Ba‘al ha-Tanya and his prime pupil Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz would show such empathy towards a Sabbatian heresiarch. With very few exceptions, members of the rabbinate were not “melamed zekhut” when it came to deviants of the Sabbatian persuasion. The passage reads:

…As it occurred to some latter-day kabbalists who attempt to be wise (mithakmim)…to understand Tzimtzum literally, as if He contracted Himself, and this is a crime, and their sin is too great to forbear, but their merit is that they have not spoken all these things with premeditation, God forbid, but rather from lack of understanding. May the Lord forgive them, “for in respect of all the people it was done in error” (Numbers 15:26).[8]

Tzimtzum-literalism is not a characteristically Sabbatian posture, nor is it the exclusive domain of Sabbatians. Rabbi Jacob Emden, the arch-nemesis of the Sabbatians, took Tzimtzum literally, drawing an analogy to the vacuum created by a pump.[9] In fact, Emden excoriated Ricchi for belaboring the point, when “certainly, absolutely, it is not to be construed other than literally, and it is one of the a priori assumptions for the believer in our holy religion, if not for anti-religious apikorsim who do not concede the creation of the world.”[10]
There is another problem with deflecting the Tanya’s critique away from the Gaon of Vilna toward Sabbatian kabbalists. If Sabbatians were being targeted, then why did the passage need to be suppressed at all? The Vilna Gaon and his disciples were certainly condemnatory of Sabbatianism in all its guises, so there would have been nothing in the passage to give offense to the Mitnagdim, the opponents of Hasidism.
Fraenkel’s work is much more difficult than that of Rabbi Dessler, for Fraenkel has tasked himself with harmonizing the view of Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv (1841-1926), author of Leshem, as well. Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv wrote—both in his Helek ha-Bi’urim and in his recently published correspondence with fellow Mitnagdic kabbalist Rabbi Naftali Herz Halevi Weidenbaum—that he subscribes to the literalist interpretation of Tzimtzum as described in Ricchi’s Yosher Levav.[11] The Leshem went so far as to cast aspersions on the Likkutim printed at the conclusion of Bi’ur ha-Gra to Sifra di-Tzeni‘uta, which present a non-literal reading of Tzimtzum.[12]
Professor Mordechai Pachter was struck by the most incongruous dovetailing of the perspectives of Lubavitch and Leshem concerning the Vilna Gaon’s interpretation of Tzimtzum. Both ascribe to the Gaon a literalist interpretation.[13]
“To cut to the chase,” Fraenkel’s strategy for reconciling what appear glaring differences of opinion involves invoking the kabbalistic theory of relativity, namely the distinction between the divine perspective and the human perspective. The Aramaic expressions that convey this thought are “le-gabei dideh” versus “le-gabei didan.”[14] (In Nefesh ha-Hayyim, the Hebrew terms “mi-tzido”/”mi-tzidenu” serve the same purpose.)[15] This distinction is certainly a valuable tool but it should not be overused. It strikes this reader as overly simplistic to assume that all writers (with the exception of Sabbatians) who grasp Tzimtzum literally are necessarily writing from the human perspective, while writers who understand Tzimtzum non-literally are necessarily writing from the divine perspective. And if the distinction should not be overused, a fortiori it should not be misused. To ascribe the human perspective (as opposed to divine perspective) to Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi when he clearly writes the opposite, is to do violence to his words. A key passage in his Yosher Levav (quoted in fact by Fraenkel) reads:

Therefore relative to us (le-gabei didan), it is as if there was no Tzimtzum and we can say that the Tzimtzum is not literal. However, relative to the Ein Sof (le-gabei ha-Ein Sof) itself, it is literal.[16]

How it is then possible to flip around the author’s mindset and reverse his stated position, is beyond me.
At day’s end, the warring factions within Knesset Yisrael may have to make peace with their differences of opinion intact, even in the matter of Tzimtzum.

[1] Prof. Menachem Kallus confided to the writer that in his estimation the earliest discussion whether Tzimtzum was intended literally or not, is to be found in the notes to Vital’s ‘Ets Hayyim penned by Rabbi Meir Poppers (ca. 1624-1662). Poppers writes that it sounds to him as if Luria’s disciples Rabbi Hayyim Vital and Rabbi Yosef ibn Tabul understood from the Rav [Isaac Luria] that “the Tzimtzum is literal” (“ha-tzimtzum ke-mishma‘o”). See Rabbi Meir Poppers, ’Or Zaru‘a, ed. Safrin and Sofer (Jerusalem: Hevrat Ahavat Shalom, 1986), Sha‘ar ha-‘Iggulim ve-ha-Yosher, chap. 2 (p. 29).
[2] See “Derush ha-Tefillin” in Rabbi Shelomo Fisher, Beit Yishai—Derashot (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 355.
[3] Rabbi Eizik of Homel, “Igeret Kodesh” (Holy Epistle) printed at the conclusion of Hannah Ariel—Amarot Tehorot (Ma’amar ha-Shabbat, etc.) (Berdichev: Sheftel, 1912), 4b.
[4] Tanya II, 7 (83a).
[5] Published in M.M. Laufer, Ha-Melekh bi-Mesibo II (Kefar Habad: Kehot, 1993), p. 286.
[6] Rav Kook’s manuscript was published in Haskamot ha-Rayah (Jerusalem: Makhon RZYH Kook, 1988).
Ironically, Rav Kook’s maternal grandfather Raphael Felman was a Hasid of the Rebbe of Kopyst.
Fraenkel dismisses out of hand the notion that the Tanya pilloried Ricchi because of the fact that references to Ricchi’s Mishnat Hasidim figure prominently in the Tanya. See Nefesh HaTzimtzum, vol. 2, p. 79, n. 89. This argument is unconvincing. It is quite conceivable that the Ba‘al ha-Tanya was fond of Mishnat Hasidim, a popular digest of Lurianic Kabbalah, while viewing Ricchi’s other work Yosher Levav as being outside the pale. And for the very reason that such a venerable Kabbalist erred in his judgment concerning Tzimtzum, he was worthy of compassion. Cf. Rabbi Tzadok Hakohen Rabinowitz:
There were already found many great men, authors among the Mekubbalim, who stumbled in this, including the author of Yosher Levav, who explained the matter of Tzimtzum and similarly many matters of Kabbalah in [terms recognizable] to the understanding [as] total corporealization. I have spelled out his name, for some authors published after him already publicized him in order to clarify his errors in this respect. Behold he was a great and holy man, as is known, and erred only in his faith. Though this too is a great error and requires atonement (as explained above), nonetheless it is not such a grievous sin, as explained in the words of the Rabad…”
(Sefer ha-Zikhronot in Divrei Soferim [Lublin, 1913], 32d)
The reference is to Rabad’s animadversion to Maimonides’ statement in MT, Hil. Teshuvah 3:7 that one who professes belief in a corporeal deity has the halakhic status of a “min.”
[7] Fraenkel’s “Shabbetian Tzimtzum Kipshuto” (as opposed to the “Acceptable Tzimtzum Kipshuto”) strikes this writer as a “straw man” contrived for purposes of pilpul.
[8] Rabbi Aaron Halevi, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah (Shklov, 1820), Part 1, Gate 1, chap. 21, note (f.51).
[9] Rabbi Jacob Emden, Mitpahat Sefarim (Altona, 1768), 35b-36a (i.e. 45b-46a).
[10] Mitpahat Sefarim 35b (i.e. 45b).
To the question of whether Ricchi himself was a crypto-Sabbatian, I devoted an entire chapter of my book Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (1999): “Immanuel Hai Ricchi—Literalist among Kabbalists.”
[11] Rabbi Shelomo Elyashiv, Helek ha-Bi’urim (Jerusalem, 1935), 3a-b. The letters of Rabbi Elyashiv to Rabbi N.H. Halevi Weidenbaum were published in Rabbi Moshe Schatz, Ma‘ayan Moshe (Jerusalem, 2011).
[12] Helek ha-Bi’urim, 5b.
[13] Mordechi Pachter, “The Gaon’s Kabbalah from the Perspective of Two Traditions” (Hebrew), in The Vilna Gaon and his Disciples (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2003), pp. 119-136.
[14] See Rabbi Menahem Azariah da Fano, Ma’amar ha-Nefesh, Part 2, chap. 4 in Ma’amrei ha-Rama mi-Fano (Jerusalem: Yismah Lev, 1997), p. 339; Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi, Yosher Levav (Amsterdam, 1737), chap. 15 (10a), Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto, Kalah Pithei Hokhmah (Koretz, 1785), petah 27 (31b); idem, Peirush Arimat Yadai in  Adir ba-Marom II, ed. Spinner (Jerusalem, 1988), p. 74; Rabbi Aaron Halevi Horowitz, Sha‘arei ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah (Shklov, 1820), Part 1, Gate 1, note to chap. 21 (43b-44a); Rabbi Isaac of Volozhin, “Ma’amar Be-Tzelem” (note to Nefesh ha-Hayyim, Gate 1, chap. 1) in Avinoam Fraenkel, Nefesh HaTzimtzum, vol. 2, p. 397; Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook, Shemonah Kevatzim (Jerusalem, 2004), 2:120 (vol. 1, p. 284).
[15] Nefesh ha-Hayyim III, 6.
[16] Rabbi Immanuel Hai Ricchi, Yosher Levav (Amsterdam, 1737), chap. 15 (10a). Quoted in Nefesh ha-Tzimtzum, vol. 2, pp. 260-261. See also Fraenkel’s discussion of Ricchi’s position on pp. 63-71.



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

A Picture and its One Thousand Words: The Old Jewish Cemetery of Vilna Revisited*
by Shnayer Leiman
A. The Photograph.
            Recently, I had occasion to publish the above photograph – a treasure that offers a glimpse of what the old Jewish cemetery of Vilna looked like in the inter-war period.[1] Indeed, it captures the oldest portion of the rabbinic section of the old Jewish cemetery. The purpose of this essay is to identify the persons buried here and – where possible – to reconstruct and print the epitaphs on their tombstones. Seven partially legible inscriptions can be seen by the naked eye, as one moves from left to right across the photograph. An empty frame that once held a tombstone can be seen in the center of the photograph, as well. With the aid of a magnifying glass, as well as literary evidence, we shall attempt to identify all those buried here and to restore the full texts of their epitaphs. In effect, we shall engage in a virtual tour of a Jewish cemetery that – sadly — exists today almost entirely underground.
            Briefly, the old Jewish cemetery was the first Jewish cemetery established in Vilna. According to Vilna Jewish tradition, it was founded in 1487. Modern scholars, based on extant documentary evidence, date the founding of the cemetery to 1593, but admit than an earlier date for its founding cannot be ruled out.[2] The cemetery, still standing today (but denuded of its tombstones), lies just north of the center of the city of Vilna, across the Neris (formerly: the Vilia) River, in the section of Vilna called Shnipishkes (Yiddish: Shnipishok). It is across the river from, and just opposite , one of Vilna’s most significant landmarks, Castle Hill with its Gediminas Tower. The cemetery was known as the Piramont[3] cemetery, also (in Yiddish) as der alter feld or der alter beys eylam [so in Lithuanian Yiddish; in Ashkenazic Yiddish: beys oylom]. It was in use from the year it was founded until 1831, when it was officially closed by the municipal authorities. Although burials no longer were possible in the old Jewish cemetery, it became a pilgrimage site, and thousands of Jews visited annually the graves of the many righteous heroes and rabbis buried there, especially the graves of the Ger Tzedek (Avraham b. Avraham, also known as Graf Potocki, d. 1749), the Gaon of Vilna (R. Eliyahu b. Shlomo, d. 1797), and the Hayye Adam (R. Avraham Danzig, d. 1820). Such visits still took place even after World War II.[4]
            The cemetery, more or less rectangular in shape, was spread over a narrow portion of a sloped hill, the bottom of the hill almost bordering on the Neris River.[5] The photograph captures some of the oldest mausoleums and graves at exactly that spot, i.e. at the bottom of the hill almost bordering on the Neris River. The tombstone inscriptions face north, toward the top of the hill. As one moves from  left to right across the photograph, one is in effect moving uphill toward the entrance of the cemetery, a gate built into the northern portion of the cemetery fence.[6] We shall move from left to right, and begin with the first tombstone inscription.
1. R. Menahem Manes Chajes (1560-1636).
R. Menahem Manes was among the earliest Chief Rabbis of Vilna. Indeed, his grave was the oldest extant grave in the Jewish cemetery, when Jewish historians first began to record its epitaphs in the nineteenth century.[7] R. Menahem Manes’ father, R. Yitzchok Chajes (d. 1615), was a prolific author who served as Chief Rabbi of Prague. Like his father, R. Menahem Manes published several works in his lifetime, including a dirge entitled סליחה על שני קדושים  (Lublin, 1596)[8]; a treatise in rhyme encompassing all the laws of ערב שבת, entitled קבלת שבת (Lublin, 1621)[9]; and left still other works in manuscript form (e.g., a commentary on פרשת בלק, entitled דרך תמימים, now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford University).[10] His epitaph reads:[11]
2. R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (ca. 1770-1825).

 

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

 

This is simply an informational sign (almost certainly of early 20th century origin) that indicates to the visitor that R. Shaul was buried in this mausoleum. In fact, he was buried between R. Menahem Manes Chajes (d. 1636) and R. Moshe Rivkes (d. 1672), author of באר הגולה, and ancestor of the Vilna Gaon. His tombstone inscription, not visible in the photograph, reads:[20]
3.     R. Moshe, Dayyan of Vilna (ca. 1670-1740).
Little is known about R. Moshe, other than – as indicated on his epitaph – he served with distinction as a dayyan in Vilna.[21] Some of his Torah teachings are preserved in his son R. David’s, מצודת דוד (Altona, 1736).[22] R. Moshe was popularly known as “R. Moshe Charaz,” חר”ז being an abbreviation for חתן ר’ זאלקינד “son-in-law of R. Zalkind.” R. Zalkind should probably be identified with R. Shlomo Zalkind b. Barukh, who lived in the second half of the 17th century, and was a respected lay leader of Vilna’s Jewish community.[23] R. Moshe’s epitaph stands outside a second mausoleum, with its own entrance, separate from the first mausoleum (where R. Menahem Manes Chajes, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, and R. Moshe Rivkes were buried). The epitaph reads:[24]

 

4. R. Hillel b. Yonah (d. 1706).
The empty frame in the third mausoleum from the left held a wooden tombstone that existed into the 20th century.[25] Before it was removed for repair, it was photographed in situ, and the photograph was preserved at the Ansky Museum in Vilna. The photograph was published just prior to the onset of World War II.[26] The epitaph on the tombstone commemorates the life and death of R. Hillel b. Yonah, Chief Rabbi of Vilna, and his wife Rachel (d. 1710). They were the only occupants of the third mausoleum. R. Hillel served as Chief Rabbi of Chelm prior to his appointment as Chief Rabbi of Vilna in 1688. Some of his Torah teachings are preserved in R. David b. R. Moshe’s מצודת דוד (Altona, 1736).[27] The joint epitaph reads:[28]
5. R. Moshe Darshan (d. 1726).
R. Moshe Darshan was born in Vilna in 1641. His father, R. Hillel b. Naftali Hertz, was the celebrated author of בית הלל (on Shulhan Arukh Yoeh De’ah and Even ha-Ezer), who served on the rabbinic court of R. Moshe b. Yitzchok Yehuda Lima of Vilna (author of  חלקת מחוקק on Shulhan Arukh Even ha-Ezer) from 1651-1666, and later served as Chief Rabbi of Altona-Hamburg, and then Zolkiev.[29] R. Moshe was appointed ראש בית דין and דרשן of Vilna and served in that capacity until his death. His epitaph reads:[30]
6. R. Yaakov Kahana (d. 1826).[31]
R. Yaakov b. R. Avraham Kahana, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon, was the son-in-law of R. Yissakhar Ber (d. 1807), a brother of the Vilna Gaon.  Supported regally by his father-in-law, R. Yaakov suddenly found himself without support upon the death of his father-in-law. The Vilna kehilla immediately appointed him trustee of its various charities, in order to provide him with a dignified income, while enabling him to continue his pursuit of Torah study. R. Yaakov authored a classic commentary on B. Eruvin, גאון יעקב (Lemberg, 1863 and later editions).[32] His epitaph reads:[33]
7. R. Eliyahu Hasid (d. 1710).
R. Eliyahu was the son of R. Moshe b. David Kramer, who served as Chief Rabbi of Vilna from 1673 to 1687.[34] R. Eliyahu served as an administrator of Vilna’s צדקה גדולה and also as a dayyan. He was a great-grandfather of the Vilna Gaon, and the Gaon was named after him.[35] The epitaph reads:[36]
8. R. Yosef b. Elyah (d. 1718).
A communal leader (ראש, אלוף, מנהיג) in Vilna about whom little else is known.[37] That he was buried in proximity to R. Eliyahu Hasid (d. 1710), and that at a later date R. Moshe Darshan (d. 1726) was buried in proximity to him, is sufficient proof of his prominence, perhaps in wisdom and certainly in wealth. His epitaph reads:[38]
————————-
B. A Visit to the Old Jewish Cemetery in 1940.
            Known affectionately as “Reb Dovid,” Rabbi Meshulam Dovid Soloveitchik is currently Rosh Yeshiva of the Brisk Yeshiva in the Givat Moshe (also called: Gush Shemonim) section of Jerusalem. A descendant of R. Hayyim of Volozhin (d. 1821), and a scion of the Soloveitchik dynasty – his grandfather was R. Hayyim Soloveitchik (d. 1918), Rosh Yeshiva of Volozhin and Chief Rabbi of Brisk; and his father was R. Yitzchok Zev Soloveitchik (d. 1959), last Chief Rabbi of Brisk, and founder of the Brisk dynasty in Jerusalem) – he is a leader of the Haredi community in Israel.
A still active nonagenarian, he was born circa 1923. Upon the outbreak of World War II, he fled from Brisk and made his way to Vilna, which – largely due to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of August 23, 1939, and Stalin’s subsequent decision to hand Vilna over to  Lithuania – became the newly recognized capital of Independent Lithuania. Reb Dovid, a teenager at the time, resided in Vilna from October 22, 1939 through January 19, 1941, when together with his father (and other members of the family), he embarked on the arduous and dangerous journey that would bring him to the land of Israel, where the family ultimately settled.[39]
            Some 15 volumes of Reb Dovid’s teachings have appeared in print, many under the title: שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי. These are transcriptions of his lectures as recorded by his students, with focus primarily on Torah and Talmud commentary. One of the volumes, however, includes a riveting account – in R. Dovid’s own words – of how he managed to survive the Holocaust. The memoir includes a brief description of a visit he made to the old Jewish cemetery in Vilna in 1940.[40] The passage reads:[41]

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

This delightful account offers important testimony regarding what a living witness observed during a visit to the old Jewish cemetery in Vilna in 1940. On his way to the Vilna Gaon’s grave, R. Dovid saw a tombstone with the words משיח ה’ inscribed on its epitaph. The reference, of course, is to the grave of R. Menahem Manes Chajes (see above, epitaph 1). It is indeed nearby to the Gaon’s mausoleum, and one could easily stop to see it on the way to the Gaon’s grave. The alert reader will surely wonder why in the photograph taken in the inter-war period, which includes the epitaph of R. Menahem Manes Chajes, one cannot make out the words משיח ה’, whereas R. Dovid testifies that in 1940 it was precisely those words that caught his attention. The answer, I believe, is provided by another photograph of R. Menachem Manes Chajes’ epitaph taken in the summer of 1936.[48]
It too, at first glance, seems to have the words משיח ה’ erased. But if one examines the photograph closely, one can make out the words משיח ה’. The white paint that once covered these etched letters has been chipped off. The inter-war photograph, a “group” photograph taken from a distance, could not capture the etched letters that now appeared as black on black. The naked eye of a human being, however, could pick up the etched stone letters that read משיח ה’. So too, a close up photograph of the Chajes epitaph alone, taken in 1936.
R. Dovid adds that, subsequently, he chanced upon a pamphlet that helped him identify the epitaph he had seen. The pamphlet contained a eulogy by R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen over the author of Ha-Pardes, who apparently died in Vilna. Initially, an appropriate burial place could not be found for him in the old Jewish cemetery. But after much search, an empty plot was found between R. Manes משיח ה’ and [R. Moshe Rivkes,] the author of Be’er Ha-Golah. Since no one had been buried in proximity to these rabbis for some 85 years, a rabbinical court had to convene in order to decide the issue. The ruling was in favor of the burial, and special mention was made of the piety of R. Manes משיח ה’, which clearly identified the epitaph that R. Dovid had seen.
            Sadly, I have not succeeded in locating such a pamphlet. If indeed R. Dovid saw such a pamphlet, he cannot be faulted for summarizing its content. It certainly enabled him to identify the epitaph as belonging to the tombstone of R. Menahem Manes Chajes. But problems abound. R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (see above, epitaph 2) died in 1825. He wrote no pamphlets and published no eulogies. The author of Ha-Pardes was R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, chief Rabbi of Koenigsberg (today: Kaliningrad).[49] He died in 1775 and was buried in Koenigsberg.[50] Thus, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, five years old at the time, could not have published a eulogy over him. In fact, it was R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (as described above in epitaph 2) – and not the author of Ha-Pardes – who was buried between R. Menahem Manes Chajes and R. Moshe Rivkes.
            One suspects that the pamphlet R. Dovid chanced upon was R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול (Vilna and Grodno, 1825).
The author, a devoted disciple of R. Shaul,[51] published a eulogy upon the death of his teacher. He writes:[52]

“On the day of his [R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen’s] burial, an oracle was heard – a voice without pause[53]  – that an empty plot had been found between R. Moshe Rivkes, author of Be’er Ha-Golah and the Gaon R. Manes Chajes (who was depicted on his tombstone as משיח ה’, already so in the early generations, in the year [5]386 [= 1626],[54] even aside from the seven virtues listed by the Sages that characterize all great individuals[55]). In that section of the cemetery, the gravediggers did not dare to dig a grave during the last 85 years, for they feared for their lives. For that section of the cemetery was filled with holy and pious Jews.[56] But due to an agreement of the Moreh Zedek’s of our community, they began digging and found an empty plot waiting for this righteous Rabbi’s remains since the week of Creation.

            Here – and apparently in no other pamphlet – we have all the basic elements in R. Dovid’s account, with one glaring exception. Nothing is mentioned about the author of Ha-Pardes, R. Aryeh Leib Epstein. As indicated above, the author of Ha-Pardes in any event had nothing to do with a burial in Vilna. He lived at the wrong time (when empty plots were still available throughout the old Jewish cemetery) and died and was buried in the wrong place (in Koenigsberg). It is possible that we have in R. Dovid’s account a conflation of two unrelated pamphlets, each named גבעת שאול. Aside from R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול (cited above), a pamphlet with the exact same title, and also offering a eulogy, was authored by R. Shemariah Yosef Karelitz (d. 1917).[57]
The pamphlet, גבעת שאול (Warsaw, 1892), was a eulogy over Karelitz’ father-in-law, whose name also happened to be R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen (1828-1892), and who had served with distinction as rabbi of Kossovo and then Kobrin (both today in Belarus). This second R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen was a descendant of R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, author of Ha-Pardes. Indeed, on the first title page of Karelitz’ גבעת שאול, R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen is described in bold letters as a member of the Epstein family. On the second title page, he is described in bold letters as a descendant of “R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, author of Ha-Pardes.”
[
            In sum, R. Dovid’s account provides impeccable testimony that the epitaph on the tombstone of R. Menahem Manes Chajes – the oldest tombstone preserved in the old Jewish cemetery – could still be visited and read in 1940.[58] What he claims to have read in a pamphlet at some later date remains problematic and requires further investigation or, as the later commentators would have put it, צריך עיון.
In memory of Khaykl Lunski (ca. 1881-1943), fabled librarian of the Strashun Library, who was the embodiment of the very soul of Jewish Vilna. His last essay – a study of the faded tombstone inscriptions in Vilna’s old Jewish cemetery – was written in the Vilna Jewish ghetto created by the Nazis. It perished together with him during the Holocaust. See Shmerke Kaczerginski, חורבן ווילנע (New York, 1947), p. 198 (henceforth: Kaczerginski). Cf. Hirsz Abramowicz, Profiles of a Lost World (Detroit, 1999), p. 264. Kaczerginski’s description of Lunski’s last years in the Vilna ghetto are worth citing here:
Khaykl Lunski (ca. 1881-1943)
NOTES:

[1] Sid Z. Leiman, “Lithuanian Government Announces Construction of a $25,000,000 Convention Center in the Center of Vilna’s Oldest Jewish Cemetery,” The Seforim Blog, September 13, 2015, available online here, reprinted here. A similar photograph (from a slightly different angle) appears in Leyzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania (New York, 1974), vol. 1, p. 100 (henceforth: Ran). Alas, its lack of clarity renders it mostly useless.
[2] See Israel Klausner, קורות בית-העלמין הישן בוילנה (Vilna, 1935; reissued: Jerusalem, 1972), pp. 3-5 (henceforth: Klausner). Cf. Elmantas Meilus, “The History of the Old Jewish Cemetery at Šnipiškes in the Period of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania,” Lithuanian Historical Studies 12 (2007), pp. 64-67 (henceforth: Meilus).
[3] It was originally called “Pioromont,” because the old Jewish cemetery was adjacent to a street and neighborhood named after Stanislav Pior, an 18th century starosta who owned land in the area (Meilus, p. 88).
[4] See, e.g., the testimony of Chaim Basok, who together with Rabbi Kalman Farber visited the Vilna Gaon’s grave in the old Jewish cemetery at Piramont after Vilna was liberated by the Russian army in 1944. See Kalman Farber, אולקניקי ראדין וילנא (Jerusalem, 2007), p. 413. I have personally interviewed several former residents of Vilna who visited the Gaon’s grave in the old Jewish cemetery at Piramont between 1945 and 1948.
[5] A detailed map of the cemetery, as it appeared in 1935, is appended to Klausner.
[6] For an artist’s depiction of the gate at the northern entrance to the cemetery, see Sholom Zelmanovitch, דער גר-צדק ווילנער גראף פאטאצקי (Kovno, 1934), opposite p. 44. Notice Castle Hill at the upper right hand corner of the sketch; the inscription above the gate, והקיצו לקץ הימין; and the inscriptions on the sides of the gate, בית עולם ווילנא and zydu kapines. Here is the sketch:
[7] See, e.g., Shmuel Yosef Fuenn, קריה נאמנה (Vilna, 1860), p. 63 (henceforth: Fuenn 1860). Cf. the second and revised edition of קריה נאמנה (Vilna, 1915), p. 67 (henceforth: Fuenn 1915).
[8] Yeshayahu Vinograd, אוצר ספר העברי (Jerusalem, 1994), vol. 2, p. 359, entry 65.
[9] See Moshe Dovid Chechik, “ מהר”ר מנחם מאניש חיות וספר קבלת שבת,” ישורון 17(2006), pp. 668-691.
[10] Adolf Neubauer, Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library and in the College Libraries of Oxford (Oxford, 1886), column 59, entry 293.
[11] We have attempted to transcribe the Hebrew texts exactly as they appear in the photograph. We add in brackets the reconstruction of letters and words that in all likelihood once appeared in the original texts, but were no longer visible when the photograph was taken. For other photographs of the epitaph, see Klausner, p. 36; Zalman Szyk,   יאר ווילנע 1000 (Vilna, 1939), pp. 408 and 416 (henceforth: Szyk); Ran,  vol. 1, p. 101 ; and Reuben Selevan, A Trip to Remember: New York to Europe 1936 (New York, 2009), p. 113. The reconstructions are based mostly on the earlier transcriptions of the epitaphs in Fuenn and Klausner.
Over the years, some of the epitaphs were redone, and the reconstructed texts are often faulty. Enlarged and/or dotted letters (signaling acrostics, names, or dates) were sometimes made small and the dots were omitted. Small letters were sometimes enlarged. Letters and words were added or dropped when a partially erased word could no longer be read. Thus, for example, the first three words of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ epitaph (in the photograph) read: פה נטמן בו, an impossible construction in Hebrew. It is obvious that one or more words are missing from the opening line of the epitaph. It is also evident the first lines form an acrostic spelling out his name: מנחם מאנש. When the epitaphs were redone, the original line divisions were not always retained. For the letters in bold relating to the year of his death (קדרו ושמים), see below, note 54.  Based upon the earlier transcriptions in Fuenn (Fuenn 1860, p. 63; Fuenn 1915, p. 67) and Klausner (pp. 36-39), and a measure of common sense, the original epitaph probably read:
[12] R. Shaul was also the brother of his father’s successor in the rabbinate of Brisk, R. Aryeh Leib (d. 1837). See Aryeh Leib Feinstein,
עיר תהלה (Warsaw, 1886), p. 30.
[13] Abraham Dov Baer ha-Kohen Lebensohn, אבל כבד (Vilna, 1825), section “תולדות הנאון,” p. 2.
[14] See ספרא דצניעותא (Vilna and Grodno,1820), page following title page.  
[15] See R. Yehezkel Feivel, תולדות אדם (Dyhernfurth, 1809), vol. 2, page following title page.
[16] See R. Hayyim of Volozhin, נפש החיים (Vilna and Grodno, 1824), page following title page.
[17] Samuel Luria, “תולדות הרד”ל,” in R. David Luria, קדמות ספר הזהר (New York, 1951), pp. 12-14.
[18] See Hillel Noah Maggid Steinschneider, עיר ווילנא (Vilna, 1900), vol. 1, p. 163.
[19] See Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, Sergey Kravtsov, Vladimir Levin, Giedrė Mickūnaitė, and Jurgita Šiaučiūnaitė-Verbickienė, Synagogues in Lithuania (Vilnius, 2012), vol. 2, p. 316, item 55. Cf. Ran, vol. 1, p. 112. (The alleged photograph of R. Shaulke’s kloyz in Ran is misidentified; cf. Synagogues in Lithuania, vol. 2, p. 348, n. 248.) The address of the kloyz was Szawelska (later: Žmudskij) [Yiddish: Shavli] 5 (today: Šiauliu 2). The original building no longer stands. During the Holocaust, the kloyz continued to serve as a prayer house and it housed a Yeshiva named in memory of R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzenski (d. 1940). See Kaczerginski, p. 209; cf. Zelig Kalmanovitch, יומן בגיטו וילנה (Tel-Aviv, 1977), pp. 83 and 100 (English edition: Zelig Kalmanovitch “A Diary of the Nazi Ghetto in Vilna,” Yivo Annual of Jewish Social Science 8[1953], pp. 30 and 47).
[20] Fuenn 1860, pp. 236-238; Fuenn 1915, pp. 237-239; Klausner, p. 75.
[21] See Fuenn 1860, p. 100; Fuenn 1915, p. 107; and cf. Klausner, pp. 43-44.
[22] See, e.g. מצודת דוד, pp. 3a, 7a, and 31a.
[23] Fuenn 1860, p. 107, paragraph 50, number 11; Fuenn 1915, p. 113, paragraph 51, number 11.
[24] The text of the epitaph was not recorded either by Fuenn or Klausner. However, it is easily restored by combining the general information they provide with the legible portions of the text in the photograph.
[25] There is good reason to believe that wooden tombstones once proliferated in the old Jewish cemetery, but they did not survive the ravages of time and circumstance. See, e.g., Klausner, p. 38 (who indicates that as late as 1810 the fee exacted by the חברא קדישא for stone tombstones was twice the amount exacted for wooden tombstones) and Szyk, p. 406 (who states that the majority of tombstones in the old Jewish cemetery were made of wood but did not survive). Only two wooden tombstones (in the old Jewish cemetery) survived into the twentieth century; those of R. Hillel b. Yonah and R. Yehoshua Heschel b. Saul, who served as Chief Rabbi of Vilna from circa 1725 until his death in 1749. For photographs of R. Yehoshua Heschel’s wooden tombstone, see Klausner, p. 52; Szyk, p. 416; and Ran, vol. 1, p. 101.
[26] Klausner, p. 42. Cf. Szyk, p. 416 and Ran, vol. 1, p. 100 (mostly illegible).
[27] See, e.g., מצודת דוד, p. 27a.
[28] Fuenn 1860, pp. 97-98; Fuenn 1915, pp. 104-105.
[29] See Eduard Duckesz, אוה למושב (Krakau, 1903), pp. 4-7.
[30] Fuenn 1860, pp. 99-100; Fuenn 1915, pp. 106-107; Klausner, p. 43.
[31]  Moving from left to right on the photograph, R. Yaakov Kahana’s tombstone (tombstone 6) appears to the right of R. Moshe Darshan’s tombstone (tombstone 5). But as one walks uphill from the bottom to the top of the cemetery, one passes the three mausoleums, then the twin gravestones of R. Yaakov Kahana and R. Eliyahu Hasid (tombstone 7), and only then the grave of R. Moshe Darshan.
[32] For biographical information about R. Yaakov Kahana, see Fuenn 1860, p. 239; Fuenn 1915, pp. 239-240; and the third edition of Kahana’s גאון יעקב, entitled גאון יעקב השלם (Jerusalem, 1997), introductory pages. See also Yaakov Polskin, “ספר צוף דבש,” ישורון 4(1998), p. 270, notes 7-9.
[33] Here too, the photograph presents an empty frame. Only the opening lines (i.e. the marker identifying the grave) can still be read. The original epitaph is recorded in Fuenn 1860, p 240; Fuenn 1915, pp. 240-241. Klausner (p. 53) mentions Kahana’s grave but does not record the epitaph.
[34] For biographical information about R. Moshe Kramer, see Fuenn 1860, pp. 95-96; Fuenn 1915, pp. 102-103, and the references cited in the next note.
[35] See R. Avraham b. R. Eliyahu (the Gaon’s son), סערת אליהו (Vilna, 1889), p. 18. Cf. R. Yehoshua Heschel Levin, עליות אליהו (Vilna, 1885), p. 39, note 5.
[36] The opening lines (i.e. the marker identifying the grave) are painted on the upper portion of the tombstone. The epitaph is encased below the tombstone’s upper portion. For the epitaph, see Fuenn 1860, p. 99; Fuenn  1915, pp. 105-106; and Szyk, p. 408.
[37] See Fuenn 1860, p. 107; Fuenn 1915, p. 113.
[38] Here too the opening lines represent the marker identifying the grave, almost certainly added at a later date. For the epitaph, see Klausner, p. 43.      
[39] See  שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי: דרוש ואגדה (Jerusalem, 2014), pp. 390-396. For the date when R. Dovid left Vilna (January 19, 1941), we have followed Shimon Yosef Meller, הרב מבריסק (Jerusalem, 2003), vol. 1, p. 513.
[40] No precise date is provided by R. Dovid for his visit to the old Jewish cemetery. But since he arrived in Vilna on October 22, 1939, and his first attempts to visit the cemetery were thwarted, we assume the visit took place in 1940, the only full year he spent in Vilna. It is possible, however, that the visit took place late in 1939 or early in 1941.
[41] שיעורי רבנו משולם דוד הלוי: דרוש ואגדה (Jerusalem, 2014), pp. 393-394. The translation provided here is paraphrastic. The original Hebrew text reads:
[42] In 1940, Jewish burials were still taking place in Zaretcha, the successor cemetery to the old Jewish cemetery, which was closed in 1831. Zaretcha (today: Užupis), just outside the Old Town, and across the Vilenka River, was part of the Vilna municipality in 1940.
[43] In the latter part of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, the northern gate was no longer used. One entered the old Jewish cemetery from a side entrance on Derewnicka Street. The path from the entrance would lead one to the section where R. Menahem Manes Chajes was buried (on the right) and to the mausoleum where the Vilna Gaon was buried (on the left).
[44] The biblical title משיח ה’ (see, e.g., I Sam. 24:7 and Lam. 4:20), rendered “the Lord’s anointed one,” was usually reserved for kings and would-be messiahs (by their followers), not rabbis. R. Dovid could not identify the occupant of the grave, perhaps because the line with the name מהור”ר מנחם מאנש simply didn’t resonate to a 17 year old yeshiva student. One could claim that the line with R. Menahem Manes’ name was no longer legible in 1940 (as it was not legible in the inter-war photograph that forms the basis of this essay), but this seems highly unlikely in the light of the Selevan photograph taken in 1936. See below, note 48. The Selevan photograph is a close-up photo, and R. Dovid was standing directly in front of the same tombstone. He had no trouble reading poorly painted words.
[45] See discussion below.
[46] See discussion below.
[47] R. Menahem Manes Chajes died in 1636; R. Moshe Rivkes died in 1672. Eighty five years after these dates would be between 1721 and 1757. Since, as we shall see, the author of Ha-Pardes died in 1775, “85 years” cannot be referring to the time that elapsed between their deaths and his. “100 years” and more would have been a more accurate estimate. See below, note 56, for a likely explanation of the “85 years.”
[48] Reuben Selevan, A Trip to Remember: New York to Europe 1936 (New York, 2009), p. 113. I am deeply grateful to the author for granting me permission to scan and post the photograph (taken by his father in 1936) of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ epitaph.
[49] For a biography of R. Aryeh Leib Epstein, see R. Ephraim Mordechai Epstein, גבורות ארי (Vilna, 1870). Ha-Pardes, only partially published, was an encyclopedic work encompassing many different genres of rabbinic literature. It includes talmudic commentary, listing and exposition of the 613 commandments, responsa literature, halakhic codes, kabbalistic teaching, sermons, eulogies, and more. The first fascicle with the title ספר הפרדס was published in Koenigsberg, 1759. It is a available today in several editions, including: ספרי בעל הפרדס (Bnei Brak, 1978), 2 vols.; and ספרי הפרדס (Jerusalem, 1983), 4 vols. See also מעשה רב חדש (Bnei Brak, 1980), pp. 29-80.
[50] His grave is no longer standing. A sketch of his grave, as it looked in 1904, appears in Festschrift zum 200jahrigen Bestehen des israelitischen Vereins für Krankenpflege und Beerdigung Chewra Kaddischa (Koenigsberg, 1904), sketch IV. The full Hebrew epitaph is printed opposite p. XX.

[51] See the entry on him in Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem, 1973), vol. 10, column 830.
[52] גבעת שאול, p. 23a. The translation here is paraphrastic. The Hebrew text reads:
[53] See Deut. 5:19 and Rashi’s comment ad loc.
[54] The year of R. Menahem Manes Chajes’ death was recorded on his epitaph with the words: קדרו ושמים. Several of these letters had  protruding dots above them; the numerical value of the dotted letters yields the year of his death. At a very early period, some of the dots could no longer be read. Fuenn (1860, p. 63; 1915, p. 67) writes that he was able to make out dots above the letters ר, ו , and מ. But those letters alone could not possibly refer to his date of death. This passage indicates that in 1825, at least, the dotted letters also includedק   and final ם, totaling [5]386 = 1626. On other grounds, we know that Chajes died in [5]396 = 1636, so it appears likely that the dotted letters also once included the י of ושמים. If not for Fuenn’s testimony, we would claim that the second word by itself, ושמים ( = [5]396) yields the year of Chajes’s death. Cf. Moshe Dovid Chechik (above, note 9), p. 675.
[55] See M. Avot 5:7.
[56] Given that this passage was written in 1825, “85 years” here refers to the period between 1740 and 1825. As the passage itself makes clear, the reference is to the many rabbinic greats who were buried in this section of the cemetery by 1740 – and not later. See above, epitaphs 1,3,4,5,7, and 8, all of which are samples that support the claim that after 1740 no rabbinic greats were buried in this section of the cemetery. Epitaphs 2 and 6 are in harmony with this claim. Epitaph 2 is the epitaph of R. Shaul Katzenellenbogen, the case at hand. Epitaph 6 (R. Yaakov Kahana) is dated 1826, a year after the case at hand and the publication of the passage in R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen’s גבעת שאול.
[57] The father of R. Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz (d. 1953), author of חזון איש.
[58] I am deeply grateful to Professor Dovid Katz of Vilnius, mentor and colleague, whose astute comments have enhanced the final version of this essay.



Shadal on Exodus by Daniel A. Klein (Kodesh Press) – New Book Announcement

Order on Amazon or on the Kodesh Press website.
Very rarely in the history of parshanut has one author written both a translation of the entire Torah text and a complete Torah commentary in Hebrew.  Most likely, no one has accomplished this feat since Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto, 1800-1865).  Now, the second volume of his Pentateuco is available in a new, all-English version—Shadal on Exodus:  Samuel David Luzzatto’s Interpretation of the Book of Shemot, translated and edited by Daniel A. Klein (New York: Kodesh Press, 2015).  This edition is a double translation, rendering into clear and modern English both Shadal’s Italian version of the text and his Hebrew perush.  This marks the first appearance of Shadal’s complete work on Shemot in 143 years, since its original publication in Padua, 1872. 
A great-grandnephew of Moshe Hayyim
Luzzatto (author of Mesillat Yesharim), Shadal served for more than 35
years as a professor of Bible, Hebrew, and Jewish history and religion at the
Collegio Rabbinico of Padua, where he mentored many of the future leaders of
Italian Jewry.  Shadal was a superb
linguist, writer, and religious thinker, devoting his talents above all to parshanut.  Although he was a devout believer in the
divinity, unity, and antiquity of the Torah, Shadal approached the text in a
remarkably open spirit of inquiry, drawing upon a wide variety of sources,
ancient and contemporary, Jewish and non-Jewish, and focusing on the “plain”
meaning (peshat) as he saw it.  A
passionate scholar with a torrid “Italian” temperament, Shadal laced his
commentary with occasional touches of wit and sarcasm, and many of his
interpretations may strike even the modern reader as fresh and novel.
Among his most interesting comments on the Book of Exodus are the
following:
  •     Even when performing miracles, God prefers to adhere to the ways of nature in part.  Thus, the plagues of Egypt resembled in some respect phenomena that were natural in Egypt, some occurring in one year and some occurring in another, except that in the year in question, all of them came clustered together, and each one contained a novel aspect that was not found in nature (see at Ex. 7:20).  Similarly, the splitting of the Red Sea was a miraculous event mixed with natural elements, not entirely unlike a phenomenon that saved the Dutch fleet during a seventeenth-century war with England (see at Ex. 14:21).  In so holding, Shadal rejected on the one hand the extreme attempts by some moderns to naturalize the Exodus miracles, and on the other hand any fanciful embellishments by more traditional scholars that “unnecessarily overloaded the Torah’s account with signs and wonders.”
  • In the phrase tehomot yekhasyumu (“the depths covered them”) in the Song of the Sea, the grammatically strange and unique word yekhasyumu is best explained as a use of onomatopoeia—that is, the employment of an imitative and naturally suggestive word for rhetorical effect—because the double “u” sound arouses an impression of darkness and depth and thus portrays to the listener’s ear the enemy’s sinking into the deep waters (see at Ex. 15:5).  In fact, Shadal’s treatment of the entire Song is the pearl of his Exodus perush.  In the course of his commentary on chapter 15, he includes, among other things, (1) a discussion of why ancient Hebrew poetry contains traces of Aramaic, (2) a thorough explanation of the poetic device of parallelism, (3) an essay on the derivation and semantics of the word kodesh (“holiness”), and for good measure, (4) a stinging diatribe against the philosophy of Spinoza.
  •  One of the
    purposes behind the collection of the silver half-shekel for the Tabernacle was
    to diminish the people’s fear of the “evil eye” (see at Ex. 30:12).  They were being counted, and the people
    believed that a census might arouse the evil eye unless they paid a “ransom” to
    help build the sanctuary.  God did not
    wish to abolish the folk belief in the evil eye altogether, since it had the
    beneficial effect of keeping the people from putting too much trust in their
    own might or wealth.  In fact, said
    Shadal, what the common people attributed to the evil eye—and modern scholars
    just as misguidedly dismissed as coincidence—was a Divinely decreed phenomenon
    of nature, that “pride goeth before the fall.”
Shadal on
Exodus
is equipped with explanatory notes, a source index, a
subject and author index, and a list identifying the many and varied
authorities that Shadal cited. 

EDITED 12.17.2015 here are a few sample pages:

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