Reflections & Two Hespedim: R’ Eliyahu Greensweig & R’ Dovid Kamenetsky

By Eliezer Brodt

A few months ago, I launched my new podcast, Musings of a Book Collector, a deep dive into the world of rare and fascinating Jewish books (information can be found here). Some episodes are available to enjoy for free (here and here), while exclusive content is reserved for subscribers. You can also purchase individual episodes here. Any form of Sponsorship is helpful and appreciated (here).

Over the past month, the seforim world has lost several remarkable figures, true seforim people. I was privileged to have a personal connection with some of them, and I shared hespedim in their memory. These two episodes are available to listen to for free here. I welcome and appreciate all feedback.

One episode is titled The Quiet Pen of Torah: Reflections on R’ Eliyahu Greensweig.

In this episode, I share a hesped for R’ Eliyahu Greensweig זצ״ל, a hidden talmid chacham, a prolific author, filling notebooks, and pages with his vast Torah knowledge. He wasn’t a public figure, but his sharp mind, careful work on seforim, and constant writing made him truly stand out. I reflect on my personal connection with him and the lessons we can take from his life — humility, precision, generosity, and the discipline of writing Torah every day. His passing is a deep loss for the world of Torah, but his legacy of words and learning continues to inspire. [Available here and here]

Another episode is titled: Remembering R’ Dovid Kamenetsky: His generosity, Legacy, & Seforim

In this episode, I share a hesped for R’ Dovid Kamenetsky זצ״ל, a talmid chacham & prolific author. I reflect on my personal connection with him and the lessons we can learn from his life—especially his generosity and devotion to helping others. I also trace his legacy, highlighting his many significant works on the Vilna Gaon and his Beis Medrash, as well as his more recent focus on the life of R’ Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, including his two monumental volumes on the subject. His passing is a profound loss for the Torah world, but his seforim & articles ensure that his voice and teachings will continue to inspire. [Available here and here]

In addition, for those in Eretz Yisroel Note this coming Tuesday IYH:

“Seeing the Infinite in Torah”: A Memorial to the Gaon Rabbi Shelomo Fisher (Author of Beit Yishai)

By Rabbi Bezalel Naor

ANCESTRY

Rabbi Shelomo Yehonathan Yehudah Fisher was born in Jerusalem in 1932 to Rabbi Aharon and Devorah Fisher. He was named after his paternal grandfather, Shelomo Fisher (1852-1932), Rabbi of Karlsburg, Siebenbürgen.

Rabbi Shelomo Fisher the Elder, an Oberlander, was a disciple of Rabbi Abraham Samuel Benjamin Schreiber of Pressburg (Ketav Sofer) and of Rabbi Isaac Dov (Seligmann Baer) Bamberger (Würzberger Rav). When Rabbi Fisher assumed the rabbinate of Karlsburg in 1891, it was a Status Quo community. Eventually, he prevailed upon the community to become Orthodox. (In Hungary there were three types of Jewish communities: Neolog or Reform, Status Quo Ante, and separatist Orthodox.) After his passing, his son Aharon published in Jerusalem his sefer, Korbani Lahmi (2 parts, 1933-1937). Besides Talmudic erudition, the work evidences linguistic ability. (His son Aharon was also known to be a talented linguist.) At the beginning of the sefer there is a photo of the author. Our Rabbi Shelomo Fisher bore an uncanny resemblance to his paternal grandfather.

Rabbi Aharon Fisher arrived in Jerusalem in 1919. Settling into the Old Yishuv, he changed his clothing from European couture to the traditional Yerushalmi levush. Thus, the inhabitants of the Old Yishuv viewed him as a “ba‘al teshuvah,” or newcomer in their midst. In 1923, he married Devorah Yager. (See more on her background below.) Aharon became a disciple of the venerated Sephardic sage, Hakham Shelomo Eliezer Alfandari (MaHaRaShA, later known as the “Sabba Kadisha”) (d. 1930). Ideologically, Aharon Fisher followed Rabbi Yosef Hayyim Sonnenfeld, Rabbi of the separatist community of Jerusalem, known as the ‘Edah ha-Haredith. Along with the Dutchman Dr. Jacob Israel de Haan, Aharon Fisher lent a worldliness to Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s camp. Subsequent to de Haan’s assassination in 1924, Rabbi Aharon Fisher named his son “Yisrael Ya‘akov” after him. The Gaon Yisrael Ya‘akov Fisher (1928-2003) would go on to become the Rav of the Zikhron Moshe neighborhood of Jerusalem and dayyan of the Beth Din Tsedek of the ‘Edah Haredit, as well as author of the multivolume set Even Yisrael on Rambam and responsa.

Rabbi Aharon Fisher was the brother-in-law of the renowned posek, Rabbi Alter Shaul Pfeffer (1874-1936) of New York. They were married to two sisters. Rabbi Feffer’s Rebbetsin Hayah Sarah and Rabbi Aharon Fisher’s Rebbetsin Devorah were the daughters of R’ Meir Yehudah (Leib) and Rahel Yager of Bitchkov, Hungary. (Rabbi Pfeffer, a born and bred Galician, went to reside in Bitchkov, where he established a yeshivah, and would later serve as Rabbi of New York’s Beth ha-Medrash ha-Gadol Anshei Ungarn.) Responsum no. 99 of the second volume of Rabbi Pfeffer’s Avnei Zikaron (New York, 1931) is addressed to his brother-in-law Aharon Fisher of Jerusalem. The responsum concerns something Aharon Fisher’s maternal ancestor, “ha-gaon he-‘atsum Tiv Gittin” (i.e. Rabbi Tsevi Hirsch Heller) wrote concerning the mahtot (fire-pans) of Korah’s congregation. Rabbi Pfeffer also wrote to his brother-in-law a letter approving Korbani Lahmi.

ROSH YESHIVAH AND DAYYAN

Rabbi Aharon died prematurely in 1942, leaving young orphans. In the introduction to his Derashot Beit Yishai, his son, Rabbi Shelomo Fisher expresses his gratitude to the gaon and tsaddik, Rabbi Matisyahu Davis who raised him and his brothers. (Rabbi Matisyahu Davis was a kanai, a zealot, who after Rav Kook’s passing, revised his thinking about the man, and pointedly attended the levayah or funeral procession of Rebbetsin Reiza Rivkah Kook in 1951.) Rabbi Shelomo Fisher edited Rabbi Davis’ posthumous work on Rambam, Matat Melekh (Jerusalem, 1968).

In that same preface, the author expresses his eternal gratitude to Rabbi Eliezer Yehudah Finkel, Rosh Yeshivah of Mir in Jerusalem, where Rabbi Shelomo studied for some years. As he put it, he merited Rabbi Finkel’s “great closeness” (“kirvato ha-gedolah”).

Rabbi Fisher married Leah Brandt, the daughter of Rabbi Eliezer Brandt, a Jerusalem Torah scholar. (More on this remarkable tsaddeket later.)

Rabbi Fisher’s first “shtelle” (position) was as a maggid shi‘ur in Rabbi Yissakhar Meir’s Yeshivat ha-Negev in Netivot. Later he would become Rosh Yeshivah of Rabbi Mordekhai Elefant’s Yeshivat ITRI in Beit Tsefafa, Jerusalem. (Rabbi Elefant, an American, called his yeshivah, “Israel Torah Research Institute,” or ITRI.) Rabbi Fisher remained in that position for decades until his passing.

The lifestyle of Rabbi Fisher was spartan, to say the least. The entire week, he resided in a simple room of the yeshivah dormitory. There were no “creature comforts,” to speak of. In Lithuanian tradition, Rabbi Shelomo would learn standing at his “shtender” for hours on end. To that barebones room, would come visitors of various types: questioners seeking halakhic guidance; young men thirsting for knowledge. On one of my visits, Rav Shelomo told me that I had been preceded by three “mekubbalot” (women kabbalists)!

Once a week, for Shabbat, Rabbi Fisher would return home. Originally, the Fisher family lived in Me’ah She‘arim. Later, Rabbi and Rebbetsin Fisher moved to Rehov Hakablan 13 in the new Har Nof section of Jerusalem.

Rabbi Fisher would speak to his wife on the yeshivah phone in the morning at the conclusion of Shaharit. Otherwise, the Rebbetsin was on her own. In the introductions of all his works, Rabbi Fisher sings the praise of his beloved wife, “the tsaddeket Mrs. Leah who … all the days carries alone with true love and amazing devotion the entire yoke of the house and the family, and ‘without her help, Tushiyah (i.e. Torah) would be far from me.’”(Rabbi Aharon Fisher had written those last words—a quote from Job 6:13, as interpreted in b. Yevamot 62b—concerning his wife, Shelomo’s mother, Devorah; see Korbani Lahmi, Introduction, p. 12.) Rebbetsin Leah Fisher passed in 2016.

At the invitation of Chief Rabbi Avraham Shapira, Rabbi Fisher also served for a time, in the 1990s, as a dayyan of the Beit Din of Jerusalem.

DEREKH HA-LIMMUD (METHODOLOGY)

Rav Shelomo Fisher’s intellectual hero was the Hazon Ish, Rabbi Abraham Isaiah Karelitz, the sage of B’nei Berak. In the introduction to Beit Yishai Hiddushim, he refers to him as “the greatest of the aharonim (late authorities), the man of God (ish ha-Elohim), our teacher, Maran he-Hazon Ish, of blessed memory.” Though Rav Shelomo encountered the Hazon Ish but once in his life, when, as a youth, he filed by to give “Shalom” to the great man, his printed works exerted an enormous influence upon him.

Rav Shelomo had some exposure to the Brisker Rav, Rabbi Isaac Ze’ev Soloveichik, in Jerusalem, yet his hero was definitely the Hazon Ish.

These two sages—the Brisker Rav and the Hazon Ish—represented two different darkhei ha-limmud or methods of studying Talmud. Rabbi Hayyim Soloveichik of Brisk had innovated a new method of analyzing a Talmudic sugyah. His hasbarah or conceptualization conquered the yeshivah world. The Hazon Ish, on the other hand, maintained the older method of peshat, or simple reading of the text. The Hazon Ish viewed himself as preserving the legacy of the Vilna Gaon, the pashtan par excellence. (It is not coincidental that Rabbi Fisher became proficient in the works of the Gaon, both nigleh and nistar, exoteric and esoteric. He once edited from manuscripts the Gaon’s notes to the Sifra or Torat Kohanim.)

In none of this was there any personal animosity. This was truly a “mahloket le-shem shmayim,” “a controversy for the sake of heaven” (m. Avot 5:17). Rabbi Fisher related that the Hazon Ish’s critique of Hiddushei Rabbeinu Hayyim Halevi (since published) was delivered to the Hazon Ish’s students on the Eve of Yom Kippur, so that none would suspect him of harboring any “negi‘ot” or vested interests.

Rav Shelomo did not think that the two methods of Brisk and the Hazon Ish were mutually exclusive. He viewed them as complementary, and in his teaching and writing, he would present insights of both the Brisker Rav and the Hazon Ish, providing the best of both worlds.

BEKI’UT (ENCYCLOPEDIC KNOWLEDGE)

Besides his photographic recall of the Talmud, Rabbi Fisher was also thoroughly conversant with Hakirah, or Jewish philosophy, and Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism). His penchant for philosophy led him to publish a new edition of Hasdai Crescas’ ’Or Hashem (Jerusalem, 1990). His attraction to Kabbalah expressed itself especially in the expertise he developed in the Kabbalistic writings of the Vilna Gaon.

This made him unique among the sages of Jerusalem. Those in his league in Halakhah, such as Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv and Hakham ‘Ovadiah Yosef, did not claim proficiency in these other fields of Jewish learning. In this respect, Rav Fisher resembled—Rav Kook.

RAV FISHER AND RAV KOOK

Many wonder about Rav Fisher’s relation to the works of Rav Kook. One might say that he viewed Rav Kook’s sifrei mahshavah (works of Jewish Thought) the way Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed is viewed by some. Which is to say, if one is perplexed, then one needs to study the Guide; if one is not perplexed, then one need not study it. There were individuals whom Rav Fisher advised to study Rav Kook’s works; others, he would dissuade. He found ludicrous the recitation of Orot as if it were the Book of Psalms, just as he derided Breslover Hasidim who recited Likkutei MOHaRaN in this manner. (Rav Fisher himself made a careful study of Likkutei MOHaRaN and occasionally quoted the book.)

Rav Fisher came from a background that was highly critical of Rav Kook, yet he was able to free himself of many of the prejudices of his upbringing. (For the record, this writer [BN] once read a letter written by Rav Shelomo’s father, Aharon Fisher, to the editor of Kol Yisrael, the Agudah’s newspaper in Jerusalem, insisting that the paper not disrespect Chief Rabbi Kook.)

The last time I visited Rav Fisher, on a Friday morning, in his home in Har Nof, he gifted me the second, revised editions of his works, Beit Yishai Derashot and Beit Yishai Hiddushim, which had been recently published. On that occasion, he showed me how he slipped into a footnote a reference to Rav Kook’s Eder ha-Yekar. (See Beit Yishai Derashot [2004], p. 126, end note 3. In the earlier edition of 2000, the footnote is found on page 110.) The context is the important concept of “kabbalat ha-’ummah,” Kelal Yisrael’s acceptance as a Halakhic principle. The chapter in Beit Yishai (chap. 15) is entited “Be-‘Inyan Kabbalat ha-Rabbim.”

Perhaps the best way to sum up Rav Fisher’s perspective on Rav Kook, is by saying that it was “yeshivish” by today’s standards. He shared this outlook with his mehutan, Rabbi Simhah Kook of Rehovot, shelit”a. (Rabbi Fisher’s daughter is married to Rabbi Kook’s son, Rabbi Hayyim Kook.)

KELAL YISRAEL

Rabbi Fisher was unique in yet another aspect: his ability to bridge the gap between the “black hat” yeshivot of the so-called Haredim and the yeshivot of the “knitted kippot” (kippot serugot) or so-called Datiyim-Le’umiyim. (Back in the day, it was the great divide between Agudah and Mizrahi.)

Dressed in his distinctive Me’ah She‘arim apparel, consisting of a long black frock and a low, flat samet hat, Rav Fisher taught in the many yeshivot hesder: Kiryat Arba, Beit El, Gush ‘Etsion, Ma‘aleh Adumim, Sha‘alvim.

THE SPIRITUAL RENASCENCE IN ERETS YISRAEL

Rav Shelomo viewed our post-Holocaust era as being on a par with the generation that followed the Spanish Expulsion of 1492. In the aftermath of that tragic event, there exploded in Tsefat in the sixteenth century a burst of unparalleled creative energy. In a single generation, there was produced both Rabbi Joseph Caro’s Shulhan ‘Arukh and the Kabbalah of Rabbi Moses Cordovero and Rabbi Isaac Luria. Rabbi Fisher viewed the rebirth of Torah in Erets Yisrael after the terrible destruction of World War Two on such a grand historical scale.

REPOSITORY OF THE HISTORY OF THE OLD YISHUV

I would be remiss if I did not mention Rabbi Fisher’s role as a historian. Having grown up in the Old Yishuv of Jerusalem, he was often able to set the record straight on many accounts.

For starters, Hakham Shelomo Eliezer Alfandari—unlike the distortion of Rabbi Asher Zelig Margulies and the dramatization of Mas‘ot Yerushalayim (Munkatsh, 1931)—was not a kanai or zealot. (On the other hand, Rabbi Shelomo Eliashov, author of the kabbalistic work, Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah, was a kanai.)

Rabbi Fisher knew too of the intimate friendship of Rabbi Akiva Porush and Rabbi Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap before “a mountain rose up between them” (“gavah tura beinayhu”). Once an inseparable havruta, Rabbi Porush would go on to become Rav Kook’s worst detractor, and Rabbi Harlap, Rav Kook’s greatest defender.

“LAKU HA-ME’OROT” (“THE LIGHTS WENT OUT”)

Rav Shelomo passed on the fourteenth of Kislev, 5782. He was buried that evening on the Mount of Olives. On that very night, the fifteenth of Kislev, in faraway North America, we witnessed a spectacular lunar eclipse. (Some astronomers called it “a once in a century celestial event”; others, “once in five hundred years”; others, “once in a millennium.”) The beraita in b. Sukkah 29a states: “A lunar eclipse is a bad omen for Israel, for Israel count time by the moon.” (See the discussion in Beit Yishai Derashot, pp. 207-208, note 13, regarding the supposed philosophic problem posed by the scientific predictability of eclipses.)

SEEING THE INFINITE IN TORAH

If one would ask me what was so special about Rabbi Shelomo Fisher, I would respond (in the words of Rav Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap): Through Rabbi Shelomo, hk”m, “we merited to see the aspect of the Ein Sof, the Infinite, that is in Torah.” (See Mei Marom, vol. 8, Bereshit [Jerusalem, 1994], Noah, ma’amar 8, p. 28.)

The Medical Training and
Yet Another (Previously Unknown) Legacy
of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, zt”l

by Edward Reichman and Menachem Butler

Rabbi Dr. Edward Reichman is a Professor of Emergency Medicine and Professor in the Division of Education and Bioethics at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine. He writes and lectures widely in the field of Jewish medical ethics.

Mr. Menachem Butler is Program Fellow for Jewish Legal Studies at The Julis-Rabinowitz Program on Jewish and Israeli Law at Harvard Law School. He is an Editor at Tablet Magazine and a Co-Editor at the Seforim Blog.

On erev Shabbat Shira last week, in the course of a typically wide-ranging conversation between the authors of this article, Menachem mentioned that unfortunately Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski was critically ill. As hashgachah would have it, Menachem had happened upon a little-known precious work from 1997, entitled Sefer Ye’omar le-Yaakov u-le-Yisrael, compiled by Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski and comprised of letters written to him by Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, zt”l (1899-1985), known as the Steipler Gaon and author of the multi-volume work Kehillot Yaakov.[1]

Scion of prominent Hasidic dynasties and related to the current Rebbes of Bobov, Karlin, Klausenberg, Talner, and Skver, Abraham J. Twerski was born in Milwaukee in 1930 to Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Twerski and his wife Devorah Leah (née Halberstam), where he attended public school as a child.[2] After he received his rabbinic ordination from the Hebrew Theological College in Chicago, he began to serve as an assistant rabbi in his father’s congregation in Milwaukee in the 1950s, as Aaron Katz described in his 2015 profile of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski (“The Wisdom of Peanuts”) at Tablet Magazine. He married Goldie (née Flusberg) in March 1952; and starting that summer, directed the Hebrew School at his father’s congregation Beth Jehudah, as well as officiated religious lifecycle events in his father’s community in Milwaukee. However, as he would later reflect in an interview “after I had practiced as a rabbi for a number of years, I felt I was not fulfilled in my work and — after consultation with the Steipler Gaon — I went to medical school to become a psychiatrist.”

Abraham J. Twerski wrote to the Steipler Gaon and expressed concerns about the propriety of attending medical school as an Orthodox Jew. He would regularly visit Rav Kanievsky at his home in Bnei Brak and corresponded with him by mail, maintaining an ongoing relationship with him until the Steipler’s passing in 1985. That year, a volume of collection of letters entitled Karyana de-Igarta was published, and included, for the first time, two letters that the Steipler Gaon had sent some thirty years earlier to a young Abraham J. Twerski in Milwaukee, who was then seeking his advice regarding his career choice.

The first letter was written at the end of the Summer of 1955 by a twenty-four-year-old Abraham J. Twerski and in this letter the Steipler Gaon addresses the value of making one’s livelihood through a non-rabbinic profession. As to the specific profession, he adds that medicine may be a preferred choice, as it is a mitzvah to learn, and additionally, excluded from the ban on secular knowledge of the Rashba.[3] However, this is on the proviso that the education is provided by proper teachers and in an environment conducive to Torah observance. As this is clearly not the case in a modern university, he offers some general guidelines, culled from the seforim hakedoshim, if not to guarantee, at least to enhance the chances of success: 1) kove’a itim – learn in-depth at least two hours daily; 2) recite all tefillos with a minyan; 3) regular mikva immersion; 4) meticulous Shabbat observance; and 5) a daily musar seder.[4]

The second question Abraham J. Twerski posed, the following year, was more specific to his situation. He inquired whether it was preferrable for him to be a rabbi in a largely non-observant community (he was serving as an assistant rabbi to his father in Milwaukee at that time), which would involve immersion in an irreligious environment with potential negative impact on the Jewish education of his children; or should he choose a medical career, which would allow him to remain in an environment of Torah observance.

Suffice it say, the Steipler Gaon’s tone in this letter is less than supportive of a career in medicine than its predecessor. His written response is unequivocal, “the rabbinate is much preferred” (adifa yoter viyoter). He lists no less than five reasons not to become a physician, relating to the challenges in maintaining Torah observance and modesty, as well as the time commitment, which would preclude Torah study. He adds on a personal note that given his estimation of the exceptional talents of the young Rabbi Twerski, the latter would likely become a highly successful and sought-after physician. As such, he would find no rest from those constantly “knocking on his door” and seeking his consultation. He was particularly concerned about what would happen to his Torah learning and observance in such a case.[5]

Notwithstanding the serious concerns expressed by the Steipler Gaon, and perhaps now better informed of the potential pitfalls, Abraham J. Twerski proceeded to pursue his medical education, as he wrote, “I went to medical school with the Steipler’s blessing and continued an ongoing relationship with him for years.”[6] Their fathers both grew up as friends in Hornsteipel, “and spent their boyhood years together and were on first name terms,” reminisced Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski many years later in a biographical memoir of his Hasidic ancestors.[7]

However, several years into his studies at Marquette University’s medical school, Abraham J. Twerski could no longer afford the tuition.[8] His assistance would come from a most unlikely source, as he would later describe in an interview with the Pittsburgh Quarterly:[9]

By that time, I had several children, so my dad and some members of the congregation helped me to pay for school. I applied for a scholarship through a foundation, but it didn’t come through, so in my third year, I fell two trimesters behind on tuition. One day, I called my wife at lunch as always, and she asked, “What would you do if you had $4,000?” I said, “I’m too busy to talk about fantasies.” She said, “But you really do have $4,000!” I said, “From where?” She said, “From Danny Thomas.” “Who’s Danny Thomas?” She said, “The TV star.” Then she read me an article from The Chicago Sun. Local officials had told Mr. Thomas about a young rabbi who was struggling to get through medical school. Thomas asked, “How much does your rabbi need?” They said, “Four thousand dollars.” He said, “Tell your rabbi he’s got it.”[10] So, I did my internship in general medicine, went to the University of Pittsburgh Psychiatric Institute for three years, and then worked two more years for a state hospital.

While the Steipler Gaon’s assessment of the success of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski’s medical career was prophetic, his concerns about Torah observance and learning, at least for Dr. Twerski, would turn out to be unfounded. Upon his graduation from medical school several years later, Time Magazine (June 15, 1959) published a brief article about him entitled “Rabbi in White.” It is worth reprinting in its entirety:

Abraham Joshua Twerski, 28, graduated from medical school this week. It was no mean feat, for Twerski is a Jewish rabbi like his father, two uncles, father-in-law, two older brothers and (when they finish their studies) two younger twin brothers. And to keep the Torah as an Orthodox Jew for six years of studies in Milwaukee’s Roman Catholic Marquette University was something like running a sack race, an egg race and an army obstacle course at the same time.

First there was the problem of keeping his religion from growing rusty: he rose each day at 5:30am, put in an hour’s study of the Talmud before early service at Milwaukee’s Beth Jehuda Synagogue, where he is assistant rabbi. Medical school classes began at 8am, and here real complications set in. His full black beard was a sanitary problem in surgery, requiring special snood-like surgical masks. His tallith katan, a small prayer shawl worn by many Orthodox Jews under their shirts, had to be made of cotton instead of wool – which might set off a static spark and ignite the anesthetic in an operating room.

Lectures on Saturday.[11] Religious holidays sometimes required months of advance planning. The nine-day Feast of Tabernacles, for instance, with four days when work is forbidden, fell during a series of lectures before a make-or-break exam in pathology. Abe, as students and professors call him, met the situation by studying by himself all the preceding summer, put himself so far ahead of his class that he could afford to miss the lectures. “I hated like heck to miss them,” he explains, “but I creamed that exam.”

When lectures came on Saturdays – during which Orthodox Jews are forbidden to work, ride in a vehicle or talk on the phone – Abe would have a friend put a sheet of carbon paper under his lecture notes and hope he remembered to use a ballpoint pen. Sabbath restrictions begin on Friday night, just before sundown, and on occasion Fridays only a lucky break in the traffic has saved him from having to abandon his 1952 De Soto and walk the rest of the way home. On Saturdays Abe was not on duty, but sometimes, to follow up on one of the cases he had been observing, he would leave his car in the garage and walk five miles to the hospital and back.

Work on Tishah Be’ab. Abe brought his own kosher food to school every day and ate it in the student lounge, where he also said his midday prayers in a corner, surrounded by chattering fellow students. Hospital duty during the 24-hour fast without food and water at Tishah Be’ab (commemorating the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 A.D.) Dr. Twerski describes as “murder,” and the last six years have left him hollow-eyed and slightly sallow.[12] But he is eagerly looking forward to the next stage: a year of internship in Milwaukee’s Mount Sinai Hospital, followed by a three-year residency in psychiatry.

“Psychiatric training was the motivation for my going into medicine,” he says. “I felt I could be a better adviser to my people and more help to them with their problems.”

The Time Magazine profile of Abraham J. Twerski included just one photograph (wearing “a snood for surgery” over his yarmulke), but members of the Twerski family have shared in recent years nearly a dozen of the other photographs that were taken by George P. Koshollek Jr., a local photographer with The Milwaukee Journal, and later deposited in the LIFE Photo Archive. The following are two photographs of newly-minted physician Abraham J. Twerski, together with his philanthropic patron who supported his medical school studies, the comedian Danny Thomas:

Upon his 1959 graduation from Marquette University Medical School, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski left his pulpit in Milwaukee and moved with his family to Pittsburgh, where he completed his psychiatric training at the University of Pittsburgh’s Western Psychiatric Institute four years later, and was then named clinical director of the Department of Psychiatry at St. Francis General Hospital in Pittsburgh, supervised by Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis, where he advanced his expertise for treating addiction. In 1972, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski founded the Gateway Rehabilitation Center with the Sisters of St. Francis.[13]

Returning to our pre-Shabbat conversation, Menachem suggested that perhaps it might be appropriate for us to study through the 1997 volume of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, Sefer Ye’omar le-Yaakov u-le-Yisrael – one of his only Hebrew-language books of more than his eighty-authored volumes published over the past half-century – as a merit for Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski’s complete recovery. Menachem further asked if I would perhaps identify any medically related material that might be significant or previously unknown. Before Shabbat, I identified one particular letter, the final one in the book, which was of medical relevance, and I printed it out for learning, with Rabbi Twerski in mind. The topic: the obligation to prolong the life of a critically ill patient.

Just two days after our conversation, we read of the tragic passing of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, whose passing took place on Sunday, Chai Shvat 5781 (January 31, 2021). The nature of the letter from the Steipler Gaon to Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, and its heretofore unknown origins, compels us to write this brief note l’zecher nishmato (in honor of his memory) and to add yet an additional item to his legacy.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski’s astonishing accomplishments, known to the Jewish community worldwide, are primarily in the fields of mental health, self-esteem, and addiction medicine.[14] We will leave it those with expertise in these areas to recall and recount his manifold contributions, including his voluminous literary output.[15] Here we note a contribution, which though indirect, may be on par with respect to its Jewish communal impact as those more widely known.

The Letter

In the introduction to this 230-page-work, Sefer Ye’omar le-Yaakov u-le-Yisrael, published in 1997 by the Kollel Bais Yitzchok on Bartlett Street in Pittsburgh (and with an effusive approbation from Rav Chaim Kanievsky, son of the Steipler Gaon), Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski recounts his unique connection to Rav Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, the Steipler Gaon. It stemmed back to the city in present-day Ukraine called Hornsteipel, to which they both trace their roots.[16] Rav Kanievsky had lived there in his youth and the appellation “the Steipler” is derived from the name of the town. Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, though born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin is a direct descendant of Rebbe Yaakov Yisrael Twerski of Cherkas, the founder of the Hornsteipel Hasidic dynasty, which originated in that city.[17] His father was named Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Twerski and was known both as the Hornsteipler Rebbe, and as the Milwaukee Rebbe.[18]

The last letter of this volume presents a medical halakhic query Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski posed to the Steipler Gaon in the Summer of 1973 about his ailing father. “May a son administer an injection to his ill father?” Despite the fact that Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski was a physician, and injections were part of his clinical scope of practice, he was acutely aware of the potential halakhic ramification of something as simple as an injection. An injection may cause bodily injury, and it is Biblically prohibited for a son to cause a wound to his father.[19] Rav Kanievsky answered that it would be permitted as long as there are no other options: “On the matter of delivering an injection to one’s father, as it may cause a wound, the law is found in Yoreh De’ah #241:3, that when no one else is available, it is permitted … .”[20]

It appears however that between the sending of the query and the completion of the response, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski’s father passed away, as Rav Kanievsky offers condolences: “Behold, I who am bereft of good deeds [an allusion to the introduction to the High Holiday Musaf prayer recited by the chazzan] join in your great sorrow upon the passing of the honorable, great rabbi of the Hornsteipel dynasty. May God comfort you among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may his memory be a blessing for eternity.”[21]

It is the following paragraph, which includes a general comment about end-of-life issues, to which we draw your attention:

“Regarding the principle that one should do everything possible to prolong the life of the ill patient [even if he is in a terminal state (chayei sha’ah)]. In truth I also heard such a notion in my youth, and I do not know if this derives from a ‘bar samcha’ (authoritative source). In my opinion, this requires serious analysis…”

As I [ER] read these words, they were familiar to me. This letter appears in the Steipler Gaon’s collection of letters entitled Karyana de-Igarta,[22] though the questioner is not identified. It is only from this work of their correspondences that we learn that Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski is the author of the query!

It is not a lengthy halakhic analysis. In fact, the Steipler Gaon goes on to cite only two sources. The citations relate to the passage in Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah #339 regarding the treatment of a ‘gosses’, one whose death is imminent. Yet this pronouncement of Rav Kanievsky’s on the approach to the patient at the end of life may possibly be his most cited reference on any medical halakhic topic. Moreover, it is one of the more frequently cited sources in contemporary halakhic discussions on the end of life.

In the Modern era, with the likes of respirators and antibiotics, we now have the ability to prolong life to an extent not imaginable in the past. Must we utilize the entire armamentarium of medicine to prolong life in every circumstance, despite any associated suffering? There are some, such as Rav Eliezer Waldenberg, zt”l, who would answer in the affirmative.[23] Others, like Rav Moshe Feinstein, zt”l, allow for circumstances to refrain from aggressive care.[24] This debate has been the substance of halakhic discussions on end-of-life care in our generation.[25]

For someone of the stature of Rav Kanievsky’s to write that the notion to prolong life in all circumstances and at all costs may not derive from a “bar samcha” (authoritative source) is nothing short of revelational. This statement has guided many a rabbinic authority in their general approach to the treatment of the patient at the end-of-life and has certainly been part of the thought process of countless practical halakhic decisions.

It appears that this noteworthy contribution of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, zt”l to medical halakhic discourse, albeit indirect, has gone largely unnoticed. He is not only to be credited for his legendary contributions to broadening the possibilities of mental health in the Jewish community and beyond,[26] but he is also responsible for eliciting this letter of Rav Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, which has informed and guided halakhic-decision-making at the ‘end-of-life’ in the Modern era.

Sadly, we now invoke the same sentiment that the Steipler Gaon expressed above about the loss of another great rabbinic leader and member of the Hornsteipler dynasty:

May his memory be a blessing for eternity.

Notes:

[1] See Marc B. Shapiro, “The Tamim: Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky (‘The Steipler’),” in Benjamin Brown and Nissim Leon, eds., The Gedolim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2017), 663-674 (Hebrew). A full biographical treatise on The Steipler Gaon along the lines of the magisterial scholarly work of The Hazon Ish, in Benjamin Brown, The Hazon Ish: Halakhist, Believer and Leader of the Haredi Revolution (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2011; Hebrew) remains a scholarly desideratum.
[2] In a December 25, 2020 email to Menachem Butler, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski clarified some important details of an anecdote from when he participated in the Christmas play at his Milwaukee public school in his childhood. He wrote here:

That’s not quite the way it was. The week after the play, my mother called the teacher, to meet her. The teacher said, ‘I knew that Mrs. Twerski would reprimand me for putting Abraham in the Xmas play. But all she wanted to know was whether Abraham was self-conscious because he was shorter than the other children.’ I said, ‘I thought you were going to reprimand me for putting Abraham in the Xmas play.’ Mrs. Twerski said ‘If what we have given him at home is not enough to prevent an effect of a Xmas play, then we have failed completely.’

[3] For an overview of the controversy, see David Berger, “Judaism and General Culture in Medieval and Early Modern Times,” in Cultures in Collision and Conversation: Essays in the Intellectual History of the Jews (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2011), 21-116, esp. 70-78. See also Joseph Shatzmiller, “Between Abba Mari and Rashba: The Negotiations That Preceded the Ban of Barcelona (1303-1305),” Studies in the History of the Jewish People and the Land of Israel, vol. 3 (1973): 121-137 (Hebrew); David Horwitz, “The Role of Philosophy and Kabbalah in the Works of Rashba,” (unpublished MA thesis, Yeshiva University, 1986); David Horwitz, “Rashba’s Attitude Towards Science and Its Limits,” Torah u-Madda Journal, vol. 3 (1991-1992): 52-81; and Marc Saperstein, “The Conflict over the Ban on Philosophical Study, 1305: A Political Perspective,” in Leadership and Conflict: Tensions in Medieval and Early Modern Jewish History and Culture (Oxford: Littman Library, 2014), 94-112.
[4] Avraham Yeshaya Kanievsky, Karyana de-Igarta: Letters of Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, vol. 1 (Bnei Brak: privately published, 1985), 101-103, no. 86 (Hebrew), dated August 31, 1955.
[5] Avraham Yeshaya Kanievsky, Karyana de-Igarta: Letters of Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, vol. 1 (Bnei Brak: privately published, 1985), 72-74, no. 66 (Hebrew), dated April 5, 1956.
[6] Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, “Who is Honored? He Who Honors Others” (Pirkei Avos 4:1) at TorahWeb.org.
[7] See Abraham J. Twerski, The Zeide Reb Motele: The Life of the Tzaddik Reb Mordechai Dov of Hornosteipel (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 2002), 11.

In 1965, Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski visited Bnei Brak and requested that he be permitted to take a photograph of Rav Kanievsky. After sharing a story about how Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin convinced Rav Joseph Rosen, the Rogatchover Gaon, to allow him to take a photograph so that future generations would know what “a true Jew should look like,” the Steipler consented to a photograph to be taken.
[8] Financial difficulties for Jewish medical students are certainly not a new phenomenon. Indeed precisely four hundred years before Rabbi Twerski’s financial woes, in 1658, Chayim Palacco, another rabbi training as a physician in the University of Padua Medical School petitioned the Jewish community of Padua for assistance in paying his medical school tuition. The request, the only one of its kind in the archival records, was granted. See Daniel Carpi, “II Rabbino Chayim Polacco, Alias Vital Felix Montalto da Lublino, Dottore in Filosofia e Medicina a Padova (1658),” Quaderni per la Storia dell’ Universita di Padova, vol. 34 (2001): 351-352.

[9] Jeff Sewald, “Abraham J. Twerski, Psychiatrist and Rabbi: The Psychiatrist and Rabbi in His Own Words,” Pittsburgh Quarterly (Winter 2008), available here.

[10] For further details, see “Catholic Danny Thomas to Help Rabbi Become Doctor,” The Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle (27 June 1958): 1 and 3.

[11] The medical student Judah Gonzago, who trained in Rome in the early 1700s, recounts how one of his final (oral) exams was on Rosh Hashana. He recalls how he left the synagogue after the shacharit (morning) service and returned in time to hear the blowing of the shofar. His other trials and tribulations are reminiscent of those of Rabbi Dr. Twerski, though reflect a different historical reality. Though not a rabbi, Gonzago taught Torah in the local Jewish school. See Abraham Berliner, “Memoirs of a Roman Ghetto Youth,” Jahrbuch für Jüdische Geschichte und Literatur, vol. 7 (1904): 110-132 (German), of which excerpts are summarized and translated in Harry Friedenwald, “The Jews and the Old Universities,” in Harry Friedenwald, ed., The Jews and Medicine: Essays, vol. 1 (Baltimore: John Hopkins University, 1944), 221-240.
[12] How Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski navigated medical school while simultaneously maintaining meticulous religious observance, not to mention finding time for Torah learning, is truly exceptional. It reflects the challenges that every religious Jew faces in pursuing a medical education. These challenges have existed throughout history, though they have evolved over time. See Edward Reichman, “From Maimonides the Physician to the Physician at Maimonides Medical Center: The Training of the Jewish Medical Student throughout the Ages,” Verapo Yerape: The Journal of Torah and Medicine of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, vol. 3 (2011): 1-25; Edward Reichman, “The Yeshiva Medical School: The Evolution of Educational Programs Combining Jewish Studies and Medical Training,” Tradition: A Journal of Orthodox Jewish Thought, vol. 51, no. 3 (Summer 2019): 41-56. See also Edward Reichman, “The History of the Jewish Medical Student Dissertation: An Evolving Jewish Tradition,” in Jerry Karp and Matthew Schaikewitz, eds., Sacred Training: A Halakhic Guidebook for Medical Students and Residents (New York: Amud Press, 2018), xvii-xxxvii.
[13] See Abraham J. Twerski, The Rabbi & the Nuns: The Inside Story of a Rabbi’s Therapeutic Work With the Sisters of St. Francis (Brooklyn: Mekor Press, 2013).

On his appointment to this position in August 1965, Sister Mary Adele announced: “The addition of Dr. Twerski to our staff is another important move toward our goal of making complete, comprehensive mental health care and treatment available to all the people of the community.” The following month, both Sister Mary Adele and Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski rejected the suggestion that his appointment embodies any aspect of the ecumenical movement, and she told The Pittsburgh Press: “The appointment came at an opportune time to fit into the spirit… but it was accidental.” See “St. Francis Ecumenical Movement? Rabbi, Catholic Hospital Team Up In Psychiatry: Mental Ward on the Move,” The Pittsburgh Press (26 September 1965): 11
[14] Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski’s contributions also extend to the sphere of music. A noted composer of Hasidic melodies (and also of musical grammen that he composed to be delivered at celebratory occasions, such as weddings and sheva brachot), one of his best-known (although often unattributed) compositions is “Hoshia Es Amecha,” which he composed more than six decades ago on the occasion of his brother’s wedding, and set to the words from Tehillim 28:9. The song is often chanted on Simchat Torah following each of the hakkafot in the synagogue, and has become a helpful tune to count the minyan-members ahead of starting prayer services. His story of the song’s composition is recorded here. At his request, there were no eulogies delivered at his funeral. Instead, he requested that his family sing “Hoshia Es Amecha,” which he had once described as his “ticket to Gan Eden…because people dance with it.” See the video of the funeral march here.
[15] For example, see Andrew R. Heinze, “The Americanization of Mussar: Abraham Twerski’s Twelve Steps,” Judaism: A Journal of Jewish Life & Thought, vol. 48, no. 4 (Fall 1999): 450-469.
[16] For the geographic map of the Hasidic dynasties that emerged from Hornsteipel, see Marcin Wodziński, Historical Atlas of Hasidism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018), 159,162.
[17] See his book-length tribute to Reb Motele, the father of Rebbe Yaakov Yisrael Twerski of Cherkas ancestor, see Abraham J. Twerski, The Zeide Reb Motele: The Life of the Tzaddik Reb Mordechai Dov of Hornosteipel (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 2002).
[18] See Israel Shenker, “The Twerski Tradition: 10 Generations of Rabbis in the Family,” The New York Times (23 July 1978): 38, which includes a photo of Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael and Devorah Leah Twerski, with their children and their spouses at a family wedding in 1958.

Peter Leo, “He Defies Melting Pot Tradition,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (4 September 1978): 15:

Anita Srikameswaran, “Stories That Give People A Lift,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (24 September 1997): B2,B7

[19] For treatise on the topic of providing medical care to one’s parent, see Avraham Yaakov Goldmintz, Chen Moshe (Jerusalem: privately published, 2002; Hebrew), available here.
[20] Abraham J. Twerski, Sefer Ye’omar le-Yaakov u-le-Yisrael (Pittsburgh: Kollel Bais Yitzchok, 1997), 177 (no. 86) (Hebrew), dated August 27, 1973.
[21] Grand Rebbe Yaakov Yisrael Twerski passed away on August 7, 1973.
[22] Avraham Yeshaya Kanievsky, Karyana de-Igarta: Letters of Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, vol. 1 (Bnei Brak: privately published, 1985), 201, no. 190 (Hebrew)
[23] Alan Jotkowitz, “The Intersection of Halakhah and Science in Medical Ethics: The Approach of Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg,” Hakirah, vol. 19 (2015): 91-115.
[24] See Moshe Dovid Tendler, Responsa of Rav Moshe Feinstein, vol. 1: Care of the Critically Ill (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav Publishing House, 1996). See also Daniel Sinclair, “Autonomy in Matters of Life and Death and the Withdrawel of Life-Support in the Responsa of Rabbi Moses Feinstein,” Jewish Law Association, vol. 23 (2012): 231-245; and Alan Jotkowitz, “Death as Implacable Enemy – Or Welcome Friend in the Theology and Halakhic Decision Making of Rabbis Moshe Feinstein, Eliezer Waldenberg, and Haim David Halevy,” in Kenneth Collins, Edward Reichman, and Avraham Steinberg, eds., In the Pathway of Maimonides: Festschrift on the Eightieth Birthday of Dr. Fred Rosner (Haifa: Maimonides Research Institute, 2016), 73-99.
[25] For a comprehensive review of the halakhic issues at the end of life – well beyond the scope of this brief essay – see, most recently, Avraham Steinberg, Ha-Refuah ka-Halakhah, vol. 6: The Laws of the Sick, the Physician, and Medicine (Jerusalem: privately published, 2017), 338-388 (section 10) (Hebrew).
[26] See, for example, his books in Abraham J. Twerski, Let Us Make Man: Self Esteem Through Jewishness (Brooklyn: Traditional Press, 1987); Abraham J. Twerski, The Shame Borne in Silence: Spouse Abuse in the Jewish Community (Pittsburgh: Mirkov Publications, 1996); Abraham J. Twerski, Addictive Thinking: Understanding Self-Deception (Center City, MN: Hazelden, 1997); Yisrael N. Levitz and Abraham J. Twerski, eds., A Practical Guide to Rabbinic Counseling (Jerusalem: Feldheim, 2005), and his dozens of other works published over the past half-century, including more than fifty works at the catalog of ArtScroll/Mesorah Publications.

An Appreciation of HaRav Gedalia Dov Schwartz, zt”l

By Rabbi Akiva Males

On Thursday, the 24^th of Kislev, 5781 (December 10, 2020), Jews around the world prepared to use their Shamash candles to light their Chanukah Menorahs. On that same day, leading rabbinic representatives of Chicago’s strong and diverse Orthodox community delivered moving eulogies for a world-renowned Torah scholar: Rav Gedalia Dov Schwartz, zt”l. For 95 years, Rav Schwartz served as a powerful living Shamash, using his vast Halachic knowledge to illuminate Chicago — and communities around the world.

Several of the speakers remarked that in addition to all of his responsibilities heading the Beis Din of the Chicago Rabbinical Council (CRC), Rav Schwartz readily made himself available to answer the Halachic questions of rabbis across the USA. As a Shul rabbi who regularly reached out to Rav Schwartz, I can confirm that detail as being absolutely true. However, in all honesty, Rav Schwartz shared so much more than answers to the Halachic questions he was presented with.

Having served for decades as a Shul rabbi himself, Rav Schwartz readily understood the context of the Halachic questions he was presented with. He also knew the challenges, pressures, and anxieties that rabbis ‘out in the field’ often experience. In addition to providing clear answers to the queries of puplit rabbis, Rav Schwartz was an overflowing spring of wisdom, guidance, and practical rabbinic advice.

Why would a Shul rabbi out in Harrisburg, PA (where I served from 2007-2016) join a rabbinical association based in Chicago, IL? While membership in the CRC benefits a rabbi for numerous reasons, for the most part, I joined the CRC because of Rav Schwartz. As a young rabbi in my first pulpit position, I quickly realized how much I needed someone to turn to for Halachic and rabbinic guidance. On what seemed like a near-daily basis, I found myself facing numerous scenarios I had never imagined encountering — and certainly did not learn about in Yeshiva. After reaching out to Rav Schwartz on a few occasions, I quickly felt embraced and supported — and a long-distance relationship was born.

After Rav Schwartz’s funeral, I felt drawn to look over the notes I took of many of our conversations. Packed away in a box, I found a six-inch-thick file containing some of the incredibly diverse Halachic questions that came up — and that I had discussed with different Poskim — during my years in Harrisburg. Reading through those pages brought back a flood of memories and emotions. Using Post-It notes, I began flagging the pages that involved Rav Schwartz. When I was finished, I was shocked by the number of times (and the vast spectrum of issues about which) he had generously shared his time, Halachic knowledge, and direction with me.

Since so many of the matters we discussed were of a sensitive nature, I cannot share the details of those questions — as that would not be fair to the parties involved. However, here is a small sampling of some of the questions I asked Rav Schwartz about:

• A Shul member is extremely allergic to bee stings. The community’s Eruv will be down for a few weeks for major repairs. Can this fellow go out on Shabbos carrying his EpiPen — or must he stay home and indoors the entire Shabbos?
• One of the Shul members has an expensive African parrot that will only eat the Chometz crackers that it is used to. What should this parrot’s owner do with it over Pesach?
• The apartment building in which a Shul member lives installed motion sensitive lights in the halls and stairwells. Is there a Halachically acceptable way for her to leave her apartment on Shabbos?
• A Jewish-owned chain of stores asked me to be their agent to sell their Chometz before Pesach. However, they will be open and doing business as usual over Yom Tov. Does such a sale of Chometz accomplish anything?
• A photographer working for the local newspaper took some beautiful pictures of our community while we were reciting Tashlich on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. The pictures appeared in the next day’s paper. Can we purchase those pictures from the paper for our own use?
• I received a letter from a Pennsylvania State prison inmate claiming to be Jewish. With his newfound free time, he has been exploring his Judaism. He recently learned that although he received a medical circumcision as an infant, in order to meet the Halachic requirements of Bris Milah, he requires a Hatafas Dam. He wants me to advocate for him to be allowed to have this procedure done while serving his time behind bars. Is this a case I should take up?
• An out-of-town Jewish college student has unfortunately been exploring her interest in Christianity. She reached out to a family in our Shul asking if she could stay with them in order to attend a Messianic conference that will take place in our locale. Could the family agree to host her — with the hope that they will be able to dissuade her from pursuing her attraction to another religion?
• How far must a Ger Tzedek go to prevent the cremation of his / her non-Jewish parent?

In looking through that file, I was struck by how many of the questions I posed to Rav Schwartz had to do with: A) the myriad of complex issues that result from intermarriage, B) the delicate balance that needs to be found in dealing with the local Jewish Federation and non-Orthodox congregations (and their leaderships) when it comes to matters of communal concern, C) enabling the local Jewish day school to thrive and continue providing a Torah education to as many Jewish children as it can, and D) helping Jewish converts in every way possible.

As stated above, when I called Rav Schwartz, I was looking for more than just his clear answers to the Halachic questions that I had for him. I also craved his sound advice, reassurance, and sometimes, his support. On one page of my notes, I read how I had sought his guidance in a particular thorny issue. He listened to all that had taken place, shared with me what he thought I had done right, what I could have done better, how I might still be able to iron out a wrinkle I had created, and finally, some excellent ideas for dealing with similar situations that might arise in the future.

On another page of my notes, I read how he fully agreed with a position I had taken in a complicated matter. I was set to discuss what had happened with the Shul’s leadership, and had reached out to Rav Schwartz to learn what he thought. He told me he agreed with me 100%, and that if I experienced any pushback, I could let the Shul’s Board know that he absolutely stood behind me. Fortunately, this was not necessary – as, thankfully, the Shul’s Board supported me. Nonetheless, knowing that Rav Schwartz was in my corner, and willing to back me up, gave me the reassurance I greatly needed at that time.

As I looked through my files, the following five stories jumped out at me:

1. While Rav Schwartz clearly had a phenomenal mastery and memory of all Torah-related subjects, he was also keenly aware of the world around him. His attention to detail — and his recall of those details — was often quite surprising. As an example: I once turned to him with an important Halachic question from an Israeli family who had joined our community for a year so the husband (a high-ranking IDF officer) could attend the U.S. Army War College in nearby Carlisle, PA. After answering the question, Rav Schwartz commented, “I wonder if that college is located on the campus of the boarding school that Jim Thorpe attended.” (Thorpe was a famous Native-American athlete who passed away in 1953 — and indeed, the U.S. Army War College is located on the grounds of the former ‘Carlisle Indian Industrial School’.)
2. Often, after answering a question, Rav Schwartz would let me know that he could relate to what I was experiencing by sharing a story from his own rabbinic career. He once told me about how decades earlier, while serving as a young pulpit rabbi in Providence, RI he turned down the local Jewish Federation leader’s invitation to deliver an invocation at a gala dinner they were holding to honor one of the most prominent Jews in town (who was intermarried). The guest speaker was going to be the famous Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver (Reform), and the food being served at the dinner was in no way Kosher. Rav Schwartz told me how shocked the Federation head was upon hearing his refusal to deliver a blessing at a dinner that was so at odds with Halacha.
3. Rav Schwartz once mentioned that Orthodox rabbis will make the greatest impression on the broader non-Orthodox Jewish community through their Chesed and Menshlichkeit — and not via their scholarship. He recalled how once while visiting Cincinnati, OH he leafed through a year book published by the local Jewish Federation. In one year’s edition, there was a small blurb on the great Rav Eliezer Silver, zt”l. (He noted that during the time of Rabbi Silver, Cincinnati’s Jewish Federation did not have the warmest feelings towards Orthodoxy.) In that small write-up they sang Rabbi Silver’s praises. What was it about Rav Eliezer Silver’s many accomplishments that had caught their notice? It was not his Torah brilliance. Instead, the Ohio River had flooded and parts of Cincinnati were devastated. In the middle of all the chaos, Rabbi Silver was spotted in a boat bringing food and aid to others. It was Rav Eliezer Silver’s selfless Chesed that had made a lasting impact on those who were not aligned with him.
4. In 2011, my wife Layala faced a great health challenge, spent several months in hospitals, and underwent life-saving surgery. Thank G-d, she recovered, and we will always be grateful to everyone who helped us get through that extremely trying time. Over the course of those months (and the months that followed), I reached out to Rav Schwartz with many personal and Shul-related Halachic questions. Inevitably, the first words out of Rav Schwartz’s mouth were, “How’s Laya Adinah bas Chaya Esther?” My wife’s Hebrew name — as well as my mother-in-law’s — was on the tip of his tongue. Not only was Rav Schwartz thinking of my wife throughout that challenging time, but he was letting me know that he was Davening for her as well. I cannot begin to describe how much that meant (and continues to mean) to Layala and me.
5. I once turned to Rav Schwartz for guidance with an extremely sensitive situation involving a Jewish man who had married a non-Jewish woman. In the course of conversation, Rav Schwartz taught me an important lesson I will never forget. In asking my question, I had initially used the word ‘Shiksah’ in referring to the the gentile spouse. Rav Schwartz stopped me and said that such language is not refined, and is not appropriate for anyone — especially a rabbi — to use. He went on to explain that the term ‘Shiksah’ has a derogatory connotation, and that is why it never appears in any rabbinic responsa literature. Instead, non-disparaging terms like ‘Nochris’ or ‘Goya’ are always used. Rav Schwartz told me that moving forward, I should use those terms as well. I sincerely thanked him for sharing his advice, and have made a conscious effort to remove ‘Shiksah’ from my vocabulary ever since. (Each year, I make a point of sharing this lesson with my high school students as well.)

Unfortunately, the notes of my conversations with Rav Schwartz end in May 2016. That was when the CRC membership received an email informing us that sadly, our beloved Av Beis Din, Posek, teacher, and role model had suffered a debilitating stroke while leading a Daf Yomi Shiur. In the years that followed, I would regularly mail Rav Schwartz cards and hand-written notes. However, that fateful stroke put an end to the phone conversations which I had valued so greatly. (During a quick trip to Chicago in November of 2016, I was able to visit Rav Schwartz at his home. Though my visit was short, I found much meaning in it. I truly envy all the CRC members living in Chicago who were able to regularly visit Rav Schwartz over the past four years.)

Looking back, there are so many matters I would have loved to discuss with Rav Schwartz since the last time I reached him by phone at his CRC office in 2016. Sadly, that was not meant to be.

In reflecting on the interactions I feel privileged to have had with Rav Schwartz I realize something unique about him. Whenever I spoke with him, I gained more than just additional Torah knowledge and the guidance he so generously offered. I always departed (or hung up the phone) feeling I was a better person than I had been before our conversation began. In his very humble — yet noble — manner, Rav Schwartz had a way of elevating and bringing out the best in others. Interacting with Rav Schwartz was an uplifting opportunity for self growth — one that I and so many others wish we could experience again.

_________________________

Rabbi Akiva Males is privileged to serve Young Israel of Memphis as its rabbi, and also teach Torah at the Margolin Hebrew Academy — Finestone Yeshiva of the South. He can be reached at rabbi@yiom.org

Some Memories of Reb Dovid Feinstein zt”l: Instead of a Hesped

By Jonathan Boyarin

Jonathan Boyarin is the Diann G. and Thomas A. Mann Professor of Modern Jewish Studies at Cornell University. His latest book is *Yeshiva Days: Learning on the Lower East Side*, available here.

My Rosh Yeshiva, Reb Dovid Feinstein zt”l, was no longer with us on Friday just before Shabbes. This morning, Sunday, we watched online as an East Side Hatzoloh ambulance bearing his coffin waited for a crowd to clear so it could head up East Broadway following his outdoor eulogies. The ambulance lights flashed, almost surreal in the bright November sunshine, seeming at once reluctant to leave the neighborhood, warning of an emergency, and telling us it was already too late.

None of us will see him again, yet in the days and years to come the memories will circulate. I am so grateful that he permitted me to publish my impressions of him and of the Mesivtha Tifereth Jerusalem that he led for decades as successor to his father, Reb Moshe Feinstein. The book is new, and I am no longer a Lower East Side resident. Along with those who did eulogize him and asked mechila, forgiveness, from him on East Broadway this morning, I ask his forgiveness that I did not manage to bring it to him personally.

Those close to him, those who studied with him, referred to him as “Rebbi” or “the Rosh Yeshiva.” To help those who knew him to remember, and to offer some slight glimpse of his special personality to those who did not know him, I share here a few strokes of my sketch of him in that book, Yeshiva Days: Learning on the Lower East Side (Princeton University Press). And I speak of him in the present, as I do in the book, written and published in the sincere hope that I might continue to study with him for years to come. It was not to be.

Unlike the paradigmatic Hasidic leader, similarly addressed and referred to as “the Rebbe,” our Rebbi’s authority is if anything anti-charismatic and reserved. He has not striven to build a community of devoted followers, but rather serves the community as it happens to manifest itself and as it turns to him. One day I overheard my study partner Asher reply to someone: “That’s so not like Rebbi. Rebbi, if he sees someone doing something he disagrees with, he won’t say anything. But if you come to him and try to justify it, he’ll throw the book at you.”

During the week that the Lower East Side was without power after Hurricane Sandy, Elissa and I took refuge with cousins in Washington Heights, and were kindly invited to Shabbes meals at the homes of local residents there. Another guest at dinner that Friday night was a young man who clearly had a “yeshivish” background, and was working on a master’s degree in art history at Bard while working at the Cloisters. He told us had spent some time at MTJ during his high school years. In response to my comment about how remarkable it is to be in a small room with just about ten other guys listening to a shiur by one of the top halachic authorities of our generation, he told me he believed the Rosh Yeshiva had stayed on the Lower East Side precisely because he doesn’t want to be the object of mass veneration.

At least once I heard the Rebbi wonder aloud about the source of his own authority. One day we worked through a very long Tosafos (at Sotah 24) that took up the full hour of his Talmud shiur. The Rebbi introduced this text by saying, “Today we have a Tosafos that has nothing to do” with the ostensible topic of the passage in the Gemara to which it is attached as commentary. Rather, this discussion turned on the fundamental principle of Rabbinic Biblical interpretation that nothing is superfluous in the Torah—and that therefore, every seeming superfluity is available to teach us something not explicitly stated in the text. On the other hand, the Gemara will also sometimes claim that at certain points, rather than redundancies being available for interpretation, the Torah is merely “speaking in human language,” as people would in conversation.

As we studied the Tosafos, the Rosh Yeshiva several times worried the question of the seeming arbitrariness of the principle’s being applied sometimes and not others: “How do we know this one is dibra toyre, and that one is something we interpret? Because his Rebbi told him! But who told his Rebbi? So is it all ultimately halachos lemoshe misinai [laws orally dictated to Moses and not actually derivable from Scripture]? And if so, then are all of these cited verses just asmachtos [prooftexts for citation, but not the actual sources of the law]?”

He did not answer his own question, on this occasion—but he did on another. The Rebbi commented on a series of very general prooftexts presented (at Sotah 23b) for why certain rules pertain to male Kohanim and not to daughters of Kohanim, and certain rules pertain to men generally and not to women: “Don’t try to interpret the verses too closely—they’re very general. It’s all really halacha lemoshe misinai and the rabbis were just trying to convince the masses. You could spend five days trying to read it precisely, and you’d really be wasting your time. You should keep studying the text further instead.” Yet Asher had earlier that same morning quoted the Rebbi to almost the opposite effect: the Rebbi had once quoted the scholar known as Malbim, to the effect that if we really knew Hebrew grammar properly, we would understand why all of the prooftexts the Rabbis cite are compelling.

The Rosh Yeshiva is able to raise these issues, it appears to me, at least in part due to his conviction that we do know in fact what the halacha, the proper Jewish procedure, is, whether or not we are absolutely certain of its particular source in the text. Related to this conviction is his penchant for attempting to make sense of the Talmudic text, in the standard “Vilna edition,” as it is printed, before considering the various emendations that have been suggested over recent centuries and that are duly marked in that same edition. Thus, in a Tosafos as printed at Sotah 25b, the word “ve’ayno,” “and he does not” is left out in a quote from the Gemara elsewhere, so that the entire meaning of the quoted Gemara is obscured. While we were sitting in the library waiting for the Rebbi, several of us noted this. Someone said, “Should we tell the Rosh Yeshiva about it?”

Asher: “No, because maybe he’ll come up with a pshat (a way to make sense of the text as printed), and we would have missed it if we told him.”

In fact, the Rosh Yeshiva puzzled over it for a few seconds, then said, “maybe it’s a mistake.”

Perhaps the Rosh Yeshiva is willing to accept a certain degree of necessary misapprehension of the Rabbinic texts because of his conviction that the halacha for us is what we do. A different time, while ultimately acceding to an emendation, he insisted it was not necessary although it produced an assertion directly contrary to the text as it stands: “Okay, you can do like the Bach and take out the word ‘lo’ [not] here, and that makes it easier to interpret. But we could also interpret it the other way. It wouldn’t change the halacha, because we know what the halacha is, because the halacha is what we do.”

Such an assertion seems to reflect a striking confidence in the integrity of a tradition of halachic practice as handed down to us. The term here is minhag, as the authorized version of practice for a given community. Asher told me of someone who had studied at the famous Yeshiva Torah VoDaas in Brooklyn, who tried to dispute the Rebbi on a particular point of halacha. The disputant “brought a sefer [a printed authority] to show how the halacha should be, and the Rebbi shouted, ‘You’re going to start paskening [deciding the law] from seforim now? That’s not our minhag!’”

The Rebbi has time for moral dilemmas presented by the Talmud as well. The Gemara at Bava Kama 38a discusses whether Gentiles, who are not obligated to observe the vast majority of the commandments in the Torah, are nevertheless rewarded if they do observe those commandments. It concludes that they are indeed rewarded, but less than Jews—because “one who is commanded and does is superior to one who is not commanded and does.” The Rebbi explained that this is because of the anxiety attendant upon the obligation in anticipation: “Why does the one who is commanded get a greater reward? Because the thought, ‘I must do it,’ is weighing on my mind long before the obligation actually comes into force.” He reinforced this argument with the maxim lepum tsaarah scharah, “according to the suffering is the reward.”

Yisroel Ruven protested that this is unfair: if the suffering involved is the measure of the reward, then a Gentile who suffers for the sake of observing a commandment should be rewarded, even if he is not obligated.

The Rebbi responded by pointing to the analogous case of a Jewish woman who is not obligated to do a certain mitsvah, but does it anyway. He stated that “according to the suffering is the reward” applies to her, and concluded that perhaps indeed it should apply to a Gentile as well. This led to a brief mention of women who insist on putting on tefillin, against the usual Orthodox practice and sometimes in the face of mockery and protest. The Rebbi remarked: “Those people [women] who [put on tefillin] must be getting lots of reward, because look at all the grief they’re getting!”

Yet he was still troubled by Yisroel Ruven’s question: It’s hard to understand why a Gentile is not rewarded according to his suffering. He suggested that perhaps God makes sure that righteous gentiles who want to observe commandments don’t suffer for it, and thus they miss out on the corresponding rewards. And he conceded that perhaps those truly “compulsive” Gentiles who not only observe the commandments, but worry about them beforehand, are in fact rewarded commensurately.

“Yeah,” Yisroel Ruven commented when I reviewed this discussion with him after the shiur, “but he also said God wants it that way [with greater rewards for those who are commanded than for those who are not], so we’ll have to work it out ourselves.”

Several of the eulogies this morning addressed both the Rosh Yeshiva’s extraordinary focus on study and his commitment to the welfare of the community, a perennial tension in rabbinic culture. The end of the first chapter of Bava Kama (17a) deals with the question of the relative priorities of Torah study versus the active performance of commandments. The Rosh Yeshiva explained the meaning of the dictum that study is great because it leads to the performance of mitzvos. It’s not because when I study, I know how to do mitzvos; on the contrary, “The more I learn, the more I’m fartift [engrossed], the more I know I don’t know.” This, he suggested, will make me stand in greater awe of Heaven, and thus encourage me to follow the commandments more diligently.

But how much indeed can be conveyed in a brief sketch like this, or even in a whole book of memories? One day Asher, Hillel, and I understood the Gemara (at Bava Kama 21b on the bottom) the same way the Rebbi understood it in shiur, and our agreement that Tosafos’ explanation of the scenario the Gemara was discussing seemed to make the most sense was evidently in accord with the Rosh Yeshiva’s reading as well. I pointed this out to Asher, who replied, “Yeah, wasn’t that satisfying? Every now and then I see that I’m reading the Gemara the way the Rosh Yeshiva learns it. Somebody asked me once years ago why I go to the shiur, and I said it’s because I hope that if I stay long enough, sometimes I’ll learn the way he does. I’ll never really get there, but every year I get a little closer to how the Rebbi learns.”

May his memory bring us blessing.

Rabbi Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg Eulogizes Rabbi Shlomo Goren

Marc B. Shapiro

The recent passing of R. Zalman Nehemiah Goldberg was a great loss. It was not just a loss for one segment of the Torah world, as R. Zalman Nehemiah was unusual in that he was part of both the haredi world and the religious Zionist world. He was respected in both of these camps and spent his life teaching Torah among haredim and religious Zionists. One of the places he taught at was Yeshivat Ha-Idra, which was established by R. Shlomo Goren (and which closed not long after R. Goren’s death). I was fortunate to discover a eulogy that R. Zalman Nehemiah delivered for R. Goren.[1] From the eulogy you can see that R. Zalman Nehemiah broke with basically the entire haredi world which had written R. Goren off, and wanted nothing to do with him, either in life or after his death. Significantly, R. Zalman Nehemiah also contributed to the memorial volume published for R. Goren.

You can see the original handwritten eulogy in one document here, and my transcription of the eulogy in one document here.

There are a couple of noteworthy points in the eulogy which I would like to call attention to. R. Zalman Nehemiah mentions that R. Goren would complete seven pages of Talmud a day, and in this way would finish the Talmud in a year. In his autobiography, R. Goren mentions that it was R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein, the Rosh Yeshiva of the Chevron Yeshiva, who recommended to the young Shlomo Gorontchik that he learn seven blatt a day. R. Epstein said that this was what he himself did, and he recommended that R. Goren do this in the morning, while in the afternoon he study the Talmud in depth. This was not long after R. Goren entered the yeshiva, when he was not yet twelve years old.[2] Incredibly, he began learning seven blatt a day, and he tells us that during the winter he finished Yevamot twelve times. He also tells us that as he got older he would do 24 blatt a day with Rashi and Tosafot.[3]

The other point worthy of note is that R. Zalman Nehemiah mentions that there was a rumor that R. Goren was going to be engaged with the granddaughter of R. Isser Zalman Meltzer, and when this turned out to be incorrect R. Isser Zalman was very upset and was comforted by R. Aryeh Levin. In his autobiography, R. Goren discusses this matter but without mentioning any names.[4]

בעת ההיא, החלו גם רבנים ושדכנים שונים לנסות ולשדך לי אישה. אחת ההצעות הגיעה מאחד מגדולי ישראל, מן הגאונים, שהיה מעוניין מאוד לשדך לי את בתו

R. Goren mentions that since his father was a Gur Hasid he had to get the approval of the Rebbe, who for one reason or another was not enthusiastic about the match, meaning that there could be no shiddukh. R. Goren mentions that the woman who was suggested for him ended up marrying a great rabbi, but the marriage ended in divorce.[5]

The woman proposed for R. Goren was none other than R. Aharon Kotler’s daughter, who went on to marry R. Dov Schwartzman. It makes sense that R. Kotler would be interested in R. Goren, as he would have heard from his father-in-law, R. Isser Zalman Meltzer, about the great illui, R. Shlomo Gorontchik. There even exists a letter in which R. Kotler asks his father-in-law about R. Goren in terms of a possible shiddukh. Here is a selection from the letter which first appeared here.

Incidentally, here is a picture of R. Goren and R. Kotler from 1954 at the Agudah Kenessiah Gedolah in Jerusalem. It first appeared here. The man on the right is R. Shabbetai Yogel, who was on the Moetzet Gedolei ha-Torah.

Also noteworthy is that on one occasion R. Kotler accepted an invitation from R. Goren to speak to a group of Israeli soldiers.[6]

As long as we are talking about R. Goren, here are some unknown pictures of him and R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

In this picture the man to the left is Rabbi Israel Miller. I don’t know who is standing behind the Rav.

In this picture Rabbi Zevulun Charlop is standing on the left, and on the right are Rabbis Israel Miller and Samuel Belkin.

Here is a picture of R. Goren giving his shiur at YU. Maybe some readers were in attendance.

These pictures are found in the Israel State Archives here, and it is indicated in the file that credit should be given to Yeshiva University. No date is given for R. Goren’s visit, but in the Israel State Archives it indicates that the visit took place when R. Goren was Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv. While he was elected to this position in 1968, he only started serving in 1971. At the end of 1972 he was elected Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel. From this we would conclude that the visit took place in either 1971 or 1972. We can further pinpoint the date of the visit as the file in the Israel State Archives includes the envelope in which the pictures were sent to R. Goren, and it is postmarked May 24, 1972. We thus see that the visit was in the spring of 1972. I then did a Google search, and lo and behold, I found an article on R. Goren’s visit in the May 19, 1972 issue of the Indiana Jewish Post and Opinion.

With this information I went to the online archives of the YU Commentator, and in the May 17, 1972 issue (p. 8), I found a report of R. Goren’s visit. We see from it that R. Goren spoke at YU on May 3, 1972.