The Illusory Portrait of R. Yom Tov Lipmann Heller: Deceptive Art and Jewish Images in Vienna

By: Dan Rabinowitz

For if I am deceived, I am.
for he who is not, cannot be deceived;
and if I am deceived,
by this same token I am.

Wolfgang Kemp after St Augustine of Hippo
(Epigraph to Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion)

On October 8, 2024, Vienna’s Museum of Fine Arts, the Kunsthistorisches Museum, opened the exhibit “Rembrandt – Hoogstraten Colour and Illusion.” The museum’s permanent collection features remarkable works by Rembrandt, including a self-portrait and a now-confirmed portrait of his son, Titus van Rijn. This exhibit showcased many more items from its collection and loans from other museums. The term “illusion” in the exhibition’s title primarily refers to Samuel van Hoogstraten, a student of Rembrandt, and his exceptional use of the trompe-l’oeil technique. Trompe-l’oeil, from French, “fools the eye,” is an art that typically uses architectural elements, light, and perspective to trick the viewer into seeing a three-dimensional image, even when rendered on a single plane. Hoogstraten was one of the most skilled practitioners of this technique. It remains among the canonical approaches to art. Most recently, the Metropolitan Museum of Art recently held an exhibition, “Cubism and the Trompe-l’oeil Tradition,” featuring works by Picasso and his contemporaries.

In the lead-up to the Vienna museum’s exhibit, the city’s Morris columns were adorned with posters, and large billboards were scattered throughout the city announcing the exhibit. There were three variations of these advertisements: one featuring a Rembrandt self-portrait and two “illusory” portraits, Rembrandt’s “Girl in the Window” and Hoogstraten’s “Old Man at a Window.” In Rembrandt’s painting, the girl gazes directly at the viewer, gripping the exterior window frame, with her fingers extending beyond it. Combined with Rembrandt’s unparalleled usage of light and color, the image is unsettlingly realistic, even when reproduced in books.

Hoogstraten’s painting, “Old Man at a Window,” depicts an old, wizened, bearded man, crowned with a round fur hat, seemingly poking his head out of the window like a gargoyle protruding from the building. While the exhibit’s advertisements are silent about the man’s identity, many Orthodox Jews might recognize him as R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller, the author of, among other works, the Tosefos Yom Tov commentary on the Mishna. Heller is associated with Vienna, having served as its Chief Rabbi in the early 17th century; however, art historians and Jewish scholars have conclusively shown the impossibility of this being an authentic representation of Heller. Nonetheless, much like the trompe l’oeil technique, the Old Man at a Window continues to deceive, and many still believe it is Heller.

Figure 1 Samuel Von Hoogstraten, Old Man at a Window, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Rabbi Heller’s Chronicle of Imprisonment & Redemption

Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman Heller was born in 1578 in Wallerstein, a small village in Southern Germany, home to around twenty Jewish families (Davis 21). As a teenager, he married into a prominent family in Prague. His perspicacity and deep knowledge were quickly recognized, and at 19, he was appointed to serve on the Prague Beis Din, overseeing the largest Jewish community in Christian Europe (Davis 25-33). A year later, he published his first book, a somewhat unusual choice for a traditional rabbinic scholar, a commentary on the philosophical work Behinas Olam. He subsequently authored dozens of books across varied genres, completing his magnum opus, Tosefos Yom Tov in Heshvan 1616 (Davis 225-231). His identity quickly became bound up with this work, and even on the epitaph of his daughters’ headstone from 1639, he is referred to by the book and not his given name (Muneles 321). (The book’s original title is Tosefes Yom Tov, and later Tosefos Yom Tov. While some posit that this change was first documented in 1653, it already appears on the epitaph. (cf. Haberman 125n1)). He also “left ample records of himself… books, letters, archival documents, responsa, poems, prayers, sermons, commentaries, and even a memoir” (Davis 1). Nevertheless, there are no surviving portraits or other images.

Rabbi Heller spent time in Vienna on two occasions. The first, in 1625, he was induced to leave Prague for Vienna’s chief rabbi position. Despite his short tenure of only two years, he scored a significant victory for the Viennese Jewish community. Until then, it was dispersed throughout the city, and Heller secured the right for the community to reside in a single area and strengthen its ties. That cohesion was shattered in 1670 when Emperor Leopold I expelled them (one of the many expulsions Viennese Jews suffered), and the area was renamed after its extirpator, Leopoldstadt. Prague, however, drew him back, and in 1627, he took on the role of chief rabbi there.

Just two years later, some of the city’s Jewish community bristled at his involvement in tax collection, accusing him of determining tax rates unfairly. In June 1629, they denounced him to the government, which resulted in his arrest and summons to Vienna. He recounts the events in his autobiographical work, Megilas Eivah—an allusion to the first letters of the first four words of Megilas Eicha, written between 1644 and 1648. Initially placed under house arrest, he was imprisoned on the 17th of Tammuz and confined in a common jail with prisoners awaiting execution. He was denied visitors and remained isolated, “no one could speak with him, even via the window.” Two days later, following appeals from the Jewish community, he was transferred to a special prison and granted visitation rights. After forty days, the community agreed to pay a substantial fine, and he was released, almost immediately departing for Prague, never to return to Vienna. By 1643, he arrived in Krakow, where he served as chief Rabbi until his death in 1654. 

Megilas Eivah circulated in various manuscripts but was published only in 1836 (Davis 228 n31). While its authenticity is beyond doubt, the additional section that first appeared in the Hebrew 1880 edition is considered a forgery. Allegedly written by Heller’s son Samuel, it “has a quality reminiscent of Dumas and The Three Musketeers: [Heller] saves a young woman from a bull, and her husband, the French ambassador, intercedes on behalf of Rabbi Yom-Tov.” In 1905, “Moritz Steinschneider identified the source as based on a short story written by Ludwig Philippson (1811‒89), a rabbi and journalist, and the author of a series of Jewish historical novelettes and stories for young readers” (Davis 146 n36).

Samuel van Hoogstraten, Master of Illusion

Samuel van Hoogstraten was born in Dordrecht, one of the oldest cities in the Netherlands, on August 2, 1627. He was the eldest child of the artist Dirk van Hoogstraten and Maeiken de Coninck. Samuel started his art studies with his father, continuing until his father passed away in 1640. Around 1642, Samuel moved to Amsterdam and began studying under Rembrandt. He rapidly proved himself to be a standout student, leading classes, reviewing his classmates’ work, and so effectively absorbing his teachers’ lessons, that some of his works were mistakenly attributed to Rembrandt (Brusati 16-31). As part of the preparation for the current exhibit, “Young Woman at an Open Half-Door” (1645) has been reassigned to Hoogstraten (Illes; Van Sloten 125).

In 1651, Samuel traveled to Vienna, the epicenter of power and prestige within the Hapsburg Empire, seeking to enhance his reputation and standing among elite society. He succeeded almost immediately. Samuel’s student, Arnold Houbraken, recounted how, on August 6, 1651, Samuel presented three of his paintings to the emperor. The first two were well received, but “the third piece,” in the trompe l’oeil style, was a still life that captivated the Emperor, who appeared to be completely taken by it. He looked at it for a long time and, finding himself still deceived, said, ‘This is the first painter who has deceived me.’ And he went on to say that he would not get the picture back as a punishment for that deception, for the Emperor wished to keep it forever.” (Houbraken 2:157-58). However, Samuel did not leave empty-handed. The Emperor awarded him an imperial medallion and a gold chain, which he took immense pride in; this would become a standard element in his subsequent self-portraits and among the items he viewed as symbolic of successful artists (Hoogstraten 371-72; Brusati 54).

Hoogstraten broadly characterized art as a form of deception. In his magnum opus on the theory of painting and color, Inleyding tot de hooge schoole der schilderkonst: anders de zichtbaere werelt (Introduction to the Academy of Painting; or, The Visible World), he describes what he considers the “perfect painting.” It “is like a mirror of nature; it makes things that are not there appear to exist and deceives in a permissible, pleasurable, and praiseworthy way” (Hoogstraten 79). One way to achieve this effect is by combining architectural elements such as open doors or windows and adding “some figures” to the composition, “by which many have been artfully deceived” (Hoogstraten 304). He takes pride in having accomplished this with his paintings completed in Vienna. One is “Old Man at a Window,” painted in 1653. (Brusati 65).

The Religious Conversion and Reversion of the Old Man at a Window 

The earliest catalogs describing the painting Old Man at a Window do not mention the man’s religious affiliation. It was not until the 19th century that two scholars suggested a Jewish connection, and even then, there was no mention of Heller. Nonetheless, this association never gained traction, and the painting continued to be described without any reference to Jews. We must wait until the 1950s for Heller’s connection to emerge. However, that link lacked any supporting evidence, leaving us in the dark about what prompted the change from an Old Man to Heller. Even that association was quickly dismissed due to the significant gap between when Heller was imprisoned and when Hoogstraten painted Old Man at a Window.

The 1653 painting is one of the first works by Hoogstraten that Emperor Charles II acquired for his castle in Prague, possibly commissioned specifically for him. The painting is described in detail in an early catalog:

No. 4. By Samuel van Hoogstraten. A lifelike, grey-bearded old man looks out of a window. His fur hat, the furrows on his face from his age, and his grey beard are so well painted that one believes one can see nature itself in each one. Hoogstraten, who did not only paint as a mere colorist, showed his deep insight into the subject and reflected light in the chiaroscuro and the deep and penetrating shadows. Just look at the head . . ., and you will find that in it, the master’s hand, which . . . expresses itself quite magnificently. The lead on the round window pane, the wooden frame, that is the glass frame, is also very well painted, but the window’s stone frame makes you believe entirely that it is the work of a mason, almost as if you can see the mason’s hand on it. The straw stalk lying on the window stone, the feather, and the bottle standing there are no less well-painted and serve to prove the excellence of the whole. This picture is painted on canvas, 3 feet 6 inches high, 2 feet and 9 inches wide. The head is life-size. The artist has engraved his monogram and the year 1653 on the window stone of this painting” (Rigler 163-164).

During the 17th century, two inventories were created for the collection. In both, the painting is described as “a man sticking his head out of the window through the shutter,” without any reference to the man’s religious affiliation or any connection to Rabbi Heller (Köpl clvnn330; Brusati 361n76). Hoogstraten’s Old Man at a Window was relocated to Vienna after the Habsburgs acquired the Belvedere Palace in the 1730s. The Palace is perhaps best known today for Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” and other notable Viennese Expressionists. In one of the earliest catalogs of the Belvedere by Christian van Mechel from 1783, the subject is referred to simply as a “grey-bearded man with a round fur hat on his head, looking out curiously from a window” (Mechel 84n4). That is how the description remained, unadorned with any religious identity until the 19^th century.

In the 19th century, two descriptions of the Old Man at a Window added his religion: he was a Jew. In 1839, German art historian Georg Rathgeber, in his study of Netherlandish art, asserts that “this picture’s title is “Böhmischen Juden,” “Bohemian Jew.’” Rathgeber disputes the identification not for its lack of historicity but because “the character of the facial features does not seem to correspond very well to” his antisemitic views on Jewish physiognomy (Rathgeber 147). Similarly, in 1861, French art critic Charles Blanc, in his encyclopedic work Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles, asserts that the Belvedere catalog now refers to the painting as “Un vieux juif (dit le Catalogue)” or “an old Jew (as it appears in the Catalog)” (Blanc 4). This portrait impressed Blanc and is among the few he reproduced in his discussion of Hoogstraten (Blanc 1). However, Blanc is notorious for identifying Jews in Rembrandt’s and his school’s works without any supporting evidence (Knotter and Schwartz 7-9). Contrary to the “catalog’s identification,” Blanc, like Rathgeber, asserts that the face “is not Israelite” (Blanc 2). Neither Blanc nor Rathgeber mentions Rabbi Heller.

Figure 2 Charles Blanc, Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles

Blanc’s and Rathgeber’s Jewish association did not take hold. For example, G.H. Veth, in his 1889 article discussing artists from Dordrecht, including Hoogstraten, cites Blanc and notes his reproduction of Old Man. However, Veth describes it without mentioning any Jewish connections (Veth 145). Similarly, a 1903 tour guidebook of Vienna confirms that at the Belvedere, the painting’s title remains unchanged as “Old Man at a Window” (Baedeker 73; cf. Gerson, 282).

Despite the absence of objective evidence and the dismissal of Blanc’s and Rathgeber’s 19th-century Semitic connection, one scholar in the 1950s cryptically associated Rabbi Heller with Hoogstraten’s painting. Margarethe Poch-Kalous, the head of the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna (Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien), in her 1959 survey of Dutch art in Vienna, refers to the figure as “ein bärtiger alter Mann (Rabbi Heller),” “a bearded old man (Rabbi Heller)” (Poch-Kalous 198). The basis for her identification is opaque. Poch-Kalous’ two citations offer no support; neither mentions Heller nor suggests that the figure is even Jewish, nor does she reference Blanc or Rathgeber (Poch-Kalous 198 citing Engerth 207n928 and Köpl clvnn330).

Oddly, unlike other personalities, artists, and subjects discussed in her article, which consistently include personal names and birth and death dates, Poch-Kalous provides nothing beyond “Rabbi Heller.” This is especially puzzling for an article in the Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorische Sammlungen, whose readership is unlikely to be sufficiently familiar with the history of 17th-century Bohemian rabbis to provide the missing details.

Whatever the basis for Poch-Kalous’s connection between Hoogstraten’s painting and Heller, it was swiftly dismissed. In 1972, Klaus Demus, the art historian and curator at the Kunsthistorisches Museum, demonstrated that it was impossible for Heller to be the model. He explains that Heller was imprisoned in 1629, and by 1644, he was serving as a rabbi in Krakow, where he remained until his death in 1654. Hoogstraten, who was only two years old when Heller was imprisoned in Vienna, painted Old Man at a Window in 1653, long after Heller had left Vienna (Demus 47-48). Today, the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s website alludes to Poch-Kalous’ attribution and rejection: “According to a tradition that is now presumed to be mistaken, the man is Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller.” Hoogstraten’s “deception” and “illusion” did not extend to rendering persons he never saw.

Illustrious Jews and Illusionary Jewish Sources

Jewish sources similarly are not more persuasive in linking Heller to Hoogstraten’s painting. Generally, rabbinic portraits prior to the 19th century lack authenticity (Cohen), and Heller is no exception. Most of the few early verifiable images exist as frontispieces in books rather than as paintings, and none depict Eastern European rabbis. Heller’s image first appears in Jewish sources in the early twentieth century. It depicts an old man, yet he is completely different from Hoogstraten’s version. The first instance of Heller masquerading as the Old Man at a Window is over a decade after Demus debunks that theory!

Figure 3 Bader, Drasig Doyres, 175

The first Jewish source of an alleged portrait of Rabbi Heller appears in a Yiddish collection of stories and hagiographies of rabbis in Gerson Bader’s Drasig Doyres Yiden in Poylen, published in 1927 (Bader 175). Bader’s depiction of Rabbi Heller does not resemble the individual shown in Hoogstraten. Bader claims that his source is an “old drawing,” yet he does not provide any further details, such as where or when it was published.

Bader’s book features other alleged rabbinic images from “old drawings” that are demonstratably false. For example, Bader’s portrait of R. Aaron Shmuel Kaidanover, author of the Birkas ha-Zevach on Kodshim, is of the Karaite and forger Avraham Firkovich (1787-1875) (Bader 185). It is undoubtedly Firkovich, as it appears in his Avnei Zikaron, published in 1872, during his lifetime. Similarly, Bader misattributes Joseph Delmedigo’s (1591-1655) portrait from the frontispiece of his Sefer Elim (Amsterdam, 1629), and the photo of R. Shmuel Salant by Zadok Bassan, assigning them to alternative rabbinic figures (Bader 204, 321). Nonetheless, Bader’s depiction of Heller was often reproduced, to the extent that in a 2000 biography of Heller, it is referred to as “iyur amimi nafuts shel ha-Tosefos Yom Tov,” “the widespread folk image of the Tosefos Yom Tov” (Herskovics 32).

Figure 4 Bader, Drasig Doyres Yiden in Poylen, 175.

Figure 5 Firkovich, Avnei Zikhron, From the Gross Family Collection, The Center for Jewish Art

It was only in 1984 that a Jewish source connected the Hoogstraten painting to Rabbi Heller. The cover of the book The Feast and the Fast: The Dramatic Personal Story of Yom Tov Lipman Heller, a translation of Megilas Eivah, depicts Rabbi Heller in prison and is modeled on the figure in the Hoogstraten painting. To eliminate any doubt about the source of the cover art, the back of the book features reproductions of title pages from Heller’s works and his gravestone, along with a photo “of the drawing in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, Austria, entitled ‘Man at the Window’ (1653) by Samuel Van Hoogstraten (1627-1678)” (Lipschitz and Rosenstein). A similar image was used for the cover illustration of another translation of Megilas Eivah published in 1991 (Heller). The English section of the 2000 biography of Heller reproduces the cover of The Feast and the Fast, describing it as “featuring a picture of the Tosefot Yom Tov” (Herskovics 101). However, it does not attempt to reconcile this image with the clearly different “widespread folk image” presented in the Hebrew section of the biography. Although not mentioned in any of these sources, they were presumably misled by the bars on the window. However, those are not prison bars; rather, as was common in that era, the windows were supported by these architectural elements (Hermans 249).

Figure 6 Cover, Feast and the Fast, 1984

By 1999, however, Jewish sources also recognized the impossibility of associating Heller with the painting. R Ya’akov Yeruchum Wreschner republished Megilas Eivah based on four editions and two manuscripts and includes a comprehensive introduction regarding Heller. In two footnotes within the introduction, Wreschner briefly addresses Heller’s connection, or lack thereof, to Old Man at a Window. Like Demas, Wreschner contends that the nearly twenty-five-year gap between Heller’s departure from Vienna and Hoogstraten’s painting of Old Man renders it impossible for Heller to have been the model. Wreschner asks rhetorically, how could Hoogstraten “paint Rabbenu [Heller] when he never set eyes on him?” (Wreschner Megilas 48n3). Wreschner also contacted the Kunsthistorisches Museum and received a response confirming that “not only is it not the Rabbi, but it is not even a Jew” (Wreschner Megilas 17n4). As a result, Wreschner refused to reproduce that portrait in his book. Similarly, despite being titled Portrait of a Seventeenth-Century Rabbi, the most recent academic biography of Heller by Joseph Davis includes neither the Hoogstraten portrait nor any other image of Heller (Davis).

In 2024, Wreschner published a significantly revised and retitled edition of his book. Despite discrediting Heller’s connection to the painting over twenty years ago, various Jewish books, newspapers, and other ephemera continue to publish Old Man at a Window and link it to Heller (e.g., Alfasi 137; Stern 184-86; Berman). Wreschner was, therefore, compelled to revisit the painting, presenting additional arguments and greater detail regarding his discussions with the Kunsthistorisches Museum.

Wreschner, in 1999, first spoke telephonically with the Director of the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Dr. Karl Schütz, who confirmed that the painting was not connected to Heller. Schütz followed up with a letter detailing the sources for his rejection. Schütz stated that, with one exception, from the earliest catalogs to contemporary analyses of the painting, it was never associated with any specific individual, Jewish or otherwise. This is consistent with Hoogstraten’s intent, showcasing the trompe l’oeil technique rather than portraiture. The only time it appears – in Demus’s “detailed catalog of Dutch painters from 1972”—is solely to repudiate Poch-Kalous’s chronologically impossible and otherwise undocumented connection to Heller. Schütz also discredited the claim that following the Anschluss, the painting was categorized as Jewish art and consigned to the museum’s basement. On the contrary, a coterminous catalog lists the painting among those on display.

Despite Wreschner’s certitude about Schütz’s rejection, for unclear reasons, Wreschner attributes an otherwise unrecorded episode to Schütz. This alleged event appears to offer some support for linking Heller to the painting, but it is completely absent from the letter. According to Wreschner, the letter references an event in 1972 when an unidentified Jew approached the museum and claimed there was “a tradition that it was Tosefos Yom Tov” (Wreschner 2024, 24-26). The museum expressed skepticism about that tradition but did not completely dismiss it. In Wreschner’s retelling, it suggested the possibility that “a Jew conjured up Heller’s image and Hoogstraten copied it.” The actual text of the letter directly contradicts Wreschner’s account. Schütz references 1972 not as the date of an important meeting that supports the “legend” but as the first substantial discussion – by Demus – and his definitive rebuttal without mentioning a meeting with the Jew.

Beyond Schütz’s letter, Wreschner adds internal reasons why the painting cannot depict Heller in jail. The window is large enough for the man to stick his head out and features high-quality glass, an uncommon design for a prison. Furthermore, the expensive fur hat worn by the Man at a Window is an unlikely accessory in a prison housing hardened criminals sentenced to death and an incongruous headpiece for the July heat when Heller was imprisoned. Wreschner could have included another element in the painting that contrasts with a prison – the wall behind the Old Man has patterned wallpaper.

Following his earlier edition, Wreschner learned of an earlier source linking Heller to the painting, which is summarily dismissed. R. Shimon Fuerst, who lived in Vienna before 1940, in his book, Shem mi-Shimon, published in 1967, recalls visiting the museum where he saw firsthand “the painting made during the imprisonment” (Fuerst 426). Wreschner is unmoved by Fuerst’s identification. First, Fuerst was not an expert on Heller. Fuerst writes that Heller left Vienna to assume the Chief Rabbi position in Krakow, which is false. After his release, Heller returned to Prague, only leaving for Krakow fifteen years later. Aside from this obvious mistake, Fuerst’s opinion is irrelevant. Wreschner does not dispute Fuerst’s rabbinic bona fides, yet he is not an art historian. When faced with questions of rabbinic law, we defer to rabbis, but, according to Wreschner, “when it comes to questions of attribution of art, we look to experts in that field” (Wreschner 2024, 26). Regardless of the reliability of Fuerst’s claim, the mystery of Poche-Kalous’ source remains unsolved as her work predates Fuerst’s by four years.

Going Once, Twice, Three Times – Sold!

The identification of Heller with the Old Man at a Window is not the first, nor likely the last portrait erroneously attributed to a well-known Jew. One such example is the “traditional” portrait of the founder of the Hassidic movement, R Yisrael Ba’al Shem Tov. This portrait depicts a Ba’al Shem, a Wonderworker, but not Yisrael; rather, it is of Ya’akov Falk of London (Oron). He was an alchemist and an eccentric, and according to R Ya’akov Emden, a crypto-Sabbatian. However, evidence does not always prevail. Books and numerous sukkah decorations continue to utilize this portrait.

There is even another Hoogstraten portrait that falls into this category. A 1670 Hoogstraten portrait now in the Jewish Museum in New York was previously associated with Baruch (Bento, Benedictus) Spinoza. This is just one of many alleged portraits of Spinoza. Yet, most, if not all, lack independent verification or directly contradict the existing evidence (Ekkart). Indeed, “It is the same with the portraits as with so many other aspects of Spinoza’s life: little can be said with any certainty” (qtd. in Ekkart 25). This portrait was first linked to Spinoza in 1929, partly based on “a slip of paper on the back bearing the scholar’s name” (Ekkart 5). It is unclear who made that determination or even when the paper was inserted into the back of the painting. Consequently, the Jewish Museum now describes the painting as “Portrait of a Man (previously thought to be Baruch Spinoza).”

Similarly, despite art historians and Jewish sources resoundingly rejecting Heller’s connection to the Old Man at a Window, it seems unlikely that the idea of Hoogstraten depicting Heller will be dislodged in the collective Jewish consciousness. The attribution is so deeply ingrained that someone spent a staggering $120,000 before fees on a late 19th-century reproduction of Hoogstraten’s painting.

Figure 7 Lot 318, Kestenbaum Auctions, March 12, 2014

In 2014, the American Judaica auction house Kestenbaum & Company listed an 1887 painting described as “Yom Tov Lipman Heller, Portrait: Imprisoned in Vienna,” with a $12,000-$18,000 estimate. The portrait also served as the front cover image of the catalog. It is described as “the celebrated portrait of the Tosefos Yom Tov” and claims that Hoogstraten “painted Rabbi Heller in 1653 and entitled it ‘Old Man in the Window.’” The catalog warns that “it is not known if van Hoogstraten ever met or saw [Heller]; however, it is likely that he was aware of the Rembrandt (School) painting of 1643 entitled ‘Portrait of an Old Jew’ (today in the National Gallery of Denmark) – where a similar, bearded Jewish man, with head cocked, looks emotively at the viewer.” Scholars acknowledge that elements of Man at a Window and other Hoogstraten paintings evoke “the face studies of costumed figures routinely produced in Rembrandt’s studio,” but this does not transform the man into a Jew, let alone Rabbi Heller. The Jewish identification of the painting in the National Gallery of Denmark is also of questionable relevance. Some aspects of that painting, most notably the chain around the man’s neck, make it highly unlikely that it depicts a Jew (Alexander-Knotter 80-81). The catalog’s only citation for attributing the subject to Heller is the 1984 book, The Fast and the Feast, mentioned earlier. It does not reference Demus’ or Wreschner’s discussions that challenge that attribution. 

The significance assigned to the artistic rendition of the original is also debatable. The 1887 reproduction bears the signature of the artist “Paul Krüger.” However, Krüger was not a recognized artist; instead, it was a commercial reproduction company in Vienna that commonly attached its labels to the works. Its full name is “Paul Krüger Atelier für Porträtmalerei in Wien” (Paul Krüger Studio for Portrait Painting in Vienna). The studio functioned in the late 19th century and reproduced numerous paintings from the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Today, for those wanting to display a similar commercial reproduction of the painting on their wall, it is available through many websites that specialize in creating highly accurate copies of famous artworks. One such site offers a hand-painted version, almost the exact size of the original, with a similar frame, for about $1,400.

If the buyer had waited a year, they could have acquired an earlier reproduction by a recognized and significant artist. On May 18, 2015, Ferdinand Waldmüller’s (1793-1865) painting “Old Man at the Window,” modeled after Hoogstraten and executed in 1819, was auctioned with an estimate of €22,400 to €28,000. Unlike Krüger’s shop, which served as a commercial entity, Waldmüller is regarded as one of “the most important Austrian painters of the Biedermeier period.” Nevertheless, the lot remained unsold.

The Krüger copy may not be the best reproduction, but the auction catalog description proved worthwhile for reproduction. Rabbi Moshe Bamberger is the author of a series of books on “Great Jewish” items published by Artscroll. One book focuses on letters, another on important Jewish books, and another titled Great Jewish Treasures, is “A Collection of Precious Judaica, Associated with Torah Leaders.” This work contains a chapter dedicated to “Artwork” that discusses some well-known examples of rabbinic images. He ably covers several of these topics and discusses the traditional portrayal of Yisrael Ba’al Shem Tov, accurately aligning it with London’s Ba’al Shem, Jacob Falk.

Bamberger also includes a section focused on the “famous depiction of Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller (1579-1654) peering through the window of his prison cell” and reproduces a version of the Hoogstraten painting. Bamberger tries to reconcile the inconsistency between the dates of imprisonment and the time when Hoogstraten painted Old Man. Bamberger’s source is the auction catalog, yet he seems to disagree with one item: which of Rembrandt’s “Jews” Hoogstraten supposedly used as a model for Heller. Rather than the 1643 “Portrait of an Old Jew” attributed to Rembrandt’s school and currently housed in the National Gallery of Denmark; according to Bamberger, the model was the subject of a painting by Rembrandt, also titled “Portrait of an Old Jew,” now held in the Hermitage Museum in Leningrad. Bamberger does not provide a rationale for selecting the Hermitage painting over the one in the National Gallery. Nevertheless, the Hermitage painting is equally unlikely to depict a Jew and is now referred to generically as “Man in an Armchair.” (Schwartz 371-373). Ironically, Bamberger’s use of the Hermitage painting only reinforces the unlikelihood that Heller served as a model for Hoogstraten. The Hermitage Rembrandt originates from 1654, one year after “Old Man in a Window.” Hoogstraten certainly did not use a nonexistent painting to model his artistic expression.

Whether we will ever fully explicate to our satisfaction the enigmatic history of Hoogstraten’s 1653 painting Old Man at a Window, Hoogstraten’s masterful execution of the Trompe l’oeil technique makes the painting worth seeking out on its own. The exhibition closed in Vienna on January 12, 2025, but relocated to Rembrandt House in Amsterdam, “The Illusionist. Samuel van Hoogstraten,” from February 1 to May 4, 2025. The Amsterdam exhibition is entirely dedicated to Hoogstraten. To accompany the Vienna exhibit, the Kunsthistorisches Museum published a collection of articles titled Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Dr. Sabine Pénot, the Curator of Netherlandish and Dutch Paintings at the museum. This book is of excellent quality, beautifully reproducing many of the exhibit’s paintings and etchings. One article is a detailed study of Hoogstraten’s process and technique in Old Man at a Window (Hermens). While it employs various infrared and other technologies to uncover what lies beneath the surface, no rabbi is lurking behind the layers of paint.

* I want to thank Dr. Shnayer Leiman for bringing to my attention Gershom Bader as the earliest source of Heller’s representation within Jewish sources. I also wish to thank Professor Marc Michael Epstein, Professor Marc Shapiro, Dr. Lara Lempertienė, and Menachem Butler for their thorough review of the draft and invaluable feedback, Dr. Sabine Pénot for scouring the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s collection for information regarding Heller’s link to the painting, and Shaul Seidler-Feller for his expertise in translating Yiddish. Additionally, I am grateful to Rabbi Yaakov Yeruchum Wreschner for sharing his correspondence with the Kunsthistorisches Museum, and, as always, Eliezer Brodt, whose enviable encyclopedic knowledge, which he freely shares, ensured I did not overlook crucial materials.

Sources:

Alexander-Knotter, Mirjam, et al. The ‘Jewish’ Rembrandt, The Myth Unraveled. Waanders Publishers/Jewish Historical Museum, [2006].

Bader, Gershom. Drasyig Doyres Yiden in Poylen. Oriom Press, 1927.

Bamberger, Moshe. Great Jewish Treasures. Artscroll, 2015.

Blanc, Charles. Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles, vol. 2, “Samuel van Hoogstraten”. Paris, 1861.

Brusati, Celeste. Artifice and Illusion: The Art and Writing of Samuel Van Hoogstraten. University of Chicago Press, 1995.

Cohen, Richard I. Jewish Icons: Art and Society in Modern Europe. California UP, 1998.

Davis, Joseph M. Yom-Tov Lipmann Heller: Portrait of a Seventeenth-Century Rabbi. Littman Library of Civilization, 2004.

Demus, Klaus. Friderike. Katalog der Gemäldegalerie: Holländische Meister des 15., 16., und 17. Jahrhunderts. Kunsthistorisches Museum, 1972.

Ekkart, Rudi. Spinoza in Beeld: Het onbekende gezicht/Spinoza in Portrait: The Unknown Face. Amsterdam Vereniging het Spinozahuis, 1999.

Engerth, Eduard van. Gemälde Beschreibendes Verzeirchness, vol. 2. 1884.

Gerson, Horst. Ausbreitung und Nachwirkung der holländischen Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts. De erven F. Bohn n. v, 1942.

Haberman, A.M. “Piyutav ve-shirav shel R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller.” Le-Kovod Yom Tov, edited by Judah Leib Maimon. Mosad HaRav Kook, 1956, pp. 125-145.

Heller, Yom Tov Lipmann. A Chronicle of Hardship and Hope. Translated by Avraham Yaakov Finkel, C.I.S. Publishers, 1991.

Hermens, Erma, et al. “Samuel van Hoogstraten’s Illusionistic Paintings for Emperor Ferdinand III – Two Case Studies.” Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Sabine Pénot. Hannibal, 2025, pp. 232-51.

Herskovics, Mayer. Two Guardians of the Faith: The History and Distinguished Lineage of Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman Heller and Rabbi Areyeh Leib Heller. Graphit Press, 2000.

Hoogstraten, Samuel Van. Introduction to the Academy of Painting; or, The Visible World. Edited by Celeste Brusati and Translation by Jaap Jacobs. Getty Research Institute, 2021.

Illes, Angelina. “List of Works.” Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Sabine Pénot. Hannibal, 2025, 258.

Knotter, Mirjam, and Gary Schwartz, editors. Rembrandt Seen Through Jewish Eyes: The Artist’s Meaning to Jews from His Time to Ours. Amsterdam UP, 2024.

Lipschitz Chaim Uri, and Neil Rosenstein, The Feast and the Fast: The Dramatic Personal Story of Yom Tov Lipman Heller. Moriah, 1984.

Mechel, Christian van. Verzeichniß der Gemälde der Kaiserlich Königlichen Bilder-Gallerie in Wien, Vienna, 1783.

Oron, Michal. Rabbi, Mystic, or Imposter. Translated by Edward Levin. Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2020.

Poch-Kalous, Margarethe. “Das Legat Wolfgang van Wurzbach-Tannenberg an die Gemäldegalerie der Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien,” in Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen in Wien vol. 55, 1959.

Rathgerber, Georg. Annalen der Niederländischen Malerei und Kupferstecherkunst: Van Rubens Abreise nach Italien bis auf Rembrandt’s Tod. Gotha, 1839.

Rigler, Hieronumus. “Beschreibung und Beurtheilung verschiedener Gemälde der S.S. Bildergalerie in Belvedere van Hieronymus Rigler aus dessen 1783 herausgegebenen, ausser Wien wenig bekannten und bereits geendigten mächentlichen Anzeigen van Künstlern und Kunstsachen,” in Miscellaneen artistischen Innhalts, 21, 1784, pp. 158-177.

Schwartz, Gary. The Rembrandt Book. Abrams, 2006.

Stern, Yechiel Michel. Gedoli Ha-Doros. Minchas Yisrael, 1996.

Van Sloten, Leonore and David de Witt. “Challenged by Rembrandt,” in Samuel van Hoogstraten, The Illusionist. Edited by Nathalie Maciesza and Epco Runia. WBOOKS, 2025.

Wreschner, J. Megilat Eivah le-Ba’al Ha-TY”T.  [], Jerusalem, 1999.

Wreschner, J. Ha-Tosefos Yom Tov u-Megilaso. [], Beni Brak, 2024.

Appendix:

Hoogstraten’s painting was copied and reinterpreted multiple times, with variations in style and even gender. (See Brusati 361, which discusses two copies in royal collections.)

A few more examples:

A more compact version with a whiter and shaped bear is attributed to a Dutch painter of Hoogstraten’s school and possibly one of the versions mentioned by Brusati.

Described as 18^th Century Flemish School, without identification of a specific artist, sold for CHF 800.

Two versions: a man that is a crude likeness of Old Man in a Window and a woman wearing a linen cap sold for $2,000.

An alternative version of a woman was painted by Josef Hauzinger, (1726-1787), currently at the Pushkin Museum in Moscow. A later version of this rendering appeared at auction in 2022.

Another example of a woman at the window is a 1936 Picasso painting.

Comments on recent books by R. Benji Levy and R. Eitam Henkin; R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik; and the first color photographs of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg

Marc B. Shapiro

1. Benji Levy, Covenant and the Jewish Conversion Question: Extending the Thought of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (Cham, Switzerland, 2021)

The last few decades have seen a lot of discussion regarding conversion, and what is and is not required before someone is accepted into the Jewish community. This is obviously a halakhic matter, as conversion is a halakhic procedure and the rabbis supervise it and are the ones to decide who is to be accepted for conversion. The issue also has a sociological component and in the State of Israel it has national and political significance as well. The fact that halakhic conversion standards in the last generation have become stricter, and conversions have even been revoked, shows that we are dealing with a matter that is far from simple. As most are aware, this has led to a good deal of tension in Orthodoxy.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903-1993) was the leading Orthodox thinker in the post-World War II era. Combine this with his standing as a great talmudist and it is obvious that he will have important insights in the matter of conversion. It is to this that R. Benji Levy turns his attention in this valuable new book which analyzes the Rav’s halakhic thinking together with his philosophical perspectives. It is a book which all students of the Rav’s thought will want to examine.

Before his discussion of the Rav’s position, Levy deals extensively with earlier rabbinic views on the status of an apostate. This is helpful in and of itself, but also in terms of seeing the novelty of the approach advocated by the Rav. Bringing the Rav’s notions of Covenant of Fate and Covenant of Destiny into the halakhic arena, Levy argues the Rav arrived at his position by positing that holiness is not inherent, something one is born into. As such, one can lose this holiness. For the Rav, this is not only stated with regard to people, as he also that he felt that there is no such thing as holiness “inherent in an object.” Rather, holiness is “born out of man’s actions and experiences” (Levy, pp. 58-59, quoting from the Rav, Family Redeemed, p. 64). As is well known, R. Meir Simcha of Dvinsk had the same perspective. The Rav also offers this perspective when it comes to niddah. See Nathaniel Helfgot, ed., Community, Covenant and Commitment, pp. 325-326: “The entire concept of tum’at niddah, ritual impurity of the menstruant, is not an inherent description, but rather a relational one, for the niddah herself is not ritually impure at all. The ritual impurity expresses itself only in relation to the other.” This is definitely not the mainstream perspective in rabbinic literature.

In chapter 5, Levy gives us a good summary of the different halakhic positions regarding conversion. In the popular mind, this is often reduced to strict or lenient positions. But this is not really accurate, as the fundamental issue under dispute is what exactly does kabbalat ha-mitzvot means. It is often unclear which side is lenient and which is strict. For instance, if a rabbi voids a conversion because someone is thought to have converted without proper acceptance of mitzvot, this can be seen as strict when it comes to conversion. But the voiding of the conversion means that this individual does not need to fast on Yom Kippur, and if he is married he can leave his wife without giving her a get. So from this perspective, the voiding of the conversion is “lenient.”

Levy also calls attention to a fascinating “hiddush” of the Rav when it comes to conversion. According to the Rav, not only does a convert need to accept all the mitzvot, but he must also commit to a life of study of Torah. “A convert who wants to enter the congregation and accept upon himself the yoke of mitsvot, but is unprepared to toil in Torah, this is lacking in their conversion” (pp. 134-135). As Levy notes, this position is in line with the Rav’s stress on serious learning as opposed to the “sentimentality of ceremonialism” (p. 135). Levy adds that this stress on study “achieves a radicalization of the overall conversion process” (p. 135). I wonder, though, is this something that the Rav actually insisted on, or was this simply a point he mentioned in shiur like so many other ideas that sound appealing but are without practical significance? In fact, do we have any evidence that the Rav ever supervised conversions? If so, it would be fascinating to know what he required from future converts and how he guided them.[1]

Levy claims that R. Aharon Lichtenstein’s position in his famous article, “Brother Daniel and the Jewish Fraternity,” is not identical with the Rav’s outlook. This was surprising to me, as it is generally understood that R. Lichtenstein’s 1963 article was an attempt to explain the Rav’s approach in the wake of the Brother Daniel episode. Levy, p. 84, quotes the Rav as saying that “however much an irreligious Jew attempts to cast off his faith, he is fated to be unsuccessful.”[2] He contrasts this with R. Lichtenstein’s statement that there is “a point beyond which the apostate cannot go and yet remain a Jew” (p. 84). Yet these statements are not in opposition. The Rav is referring to an irreligious Jew, not an apostate. A document I recently published which quotes the Rav’s explanation of his position makes this very clear.[3] It also shows that R. Lichtenstein’s points are directly in line with those of the Rav, and knowing their relationship, the article itself must have been written under the close guidance of the Rav.

Usually people think of Jewish identity as an inherent part of someone, an inheritance that cannot be given up. Yet the Rav departs from the usual approach and considers Jewish identity as something that can be lost, but only in extreme circumstances. One who is not religious does not lose his halakhic standing as a Jew. However, one who actually converts to another religion is regarded by the Rav as having severed his connection to the Jewish people, and for most intents and purposes would no longer be regarded as Jewish. (I do not know how he would regard the child of an apostate woman.)

As such, I must also reject Levy’s conclusion that for the Rav a Jew may lose his individual holiness, but his “holiness qua member of the Jewish collective is unshakeable.” It is this point that I believe to be mistaken, and as noted already, I assume that the Rav’s settled position is as explained by R. Lichtenstein. I also believe that we need not be concerned that in shiur the Rav offered a different reading of a text, as what he said in shiur was often provisional, an exploration of different possibilities.[4] In the case at hand we have more than one testimony that R. Lichtenstein’s description, that in many ways an apostate is not to be regarded as Jewish, is exactly in line with the Rav’s position. With this in mind, we also need to review Levy’s discussion of the Brother Daniel controversy (pp. 186f.). To say that the Rav supported the ruling of the Israel Supreme Court and leave it at that creates a misinterpretation. Yes, the Rav agreed with the Supreme Court that Brother Daniel was not to be regarded as Jewish. Yet the Court’s assumption was that halakhah would regard him as Jewish. However, since the Law of Return is a secular law, the Court had to decide based on how the law was understood by “the ordinary simple Jew,” and such a Jew would never regard a Catholic religious figure as being part of the Jewish people. The Rav could not be more adamant that the Court was in error, as in his view, even from a purely halakhic perspective, Brother Daniel could not be regarded as Jewish.[5]

One final point: Levy deals with authorities who have seen circumcision or immersion as conveying what can be termed “limited sanctity” or “partial conversion.” There is another source that should be added to this discussion. R. Hershel Schachter records the Rav’s understanding that the Patriarchs had moved beyond the status of benei Noah, but had not yet achieved the full status of kedushat Yisrael. Nevertheless, they still had some kedushat Yisrael.[6] This puts them somewhere between non-Jews and Jews, a “partial Jew” if one might use the term.

2. Eitam Henkin, Studies in Halakhah and Rabbinic History (Jerusalem, 2021).

It has been eight years since the murder of R. Eitam Henkin, and the deep sadness over what was taken from us remains. A glance at what Henkin was able to accomplish in his short life— three books and numerous articles, all of the highest caliber—shows us what the future would have held for him in both rabbinic and academic scholarship. As Eliezer Brodt puts it in his introduction to Henkin’s Studies in Halakhah and Rabbinic History: “He was a unique combination of an outstanding talmid hakham and historian who was also blessed with exceptional research and writing skills.” Fortunately, in his short years R. Eitam left us with much to treasure.

Studies in Halakhah and Rabbinic History, published through the great efforts of Seforim Blog editor Eliezer Brodt, is a treat for anyone who values Torah and Jewish scholarship. All of us are in great debt to Brodt for this labor of love, which began immediately after Henkin’s murder, when Brodt was the prime mover behind the publication of Ta’arokh Lefanai Shulhan, Henkin’s posthumously published book on R. Jehiel Mikhel Epstein and the Arukh ha-Shulhan. The essays in the current volume are translations of many of Henkin’s important Hebrew articles, and the translators, volunteers all, also deserve our great thanks.

The first section of the book focuses on halakhah. R. Eitam deals with the kosher status of strawberries, modern utensils and absorption of taste, the sale of land in Eretz Yisrael to non-Jews, and other topics. The second section, which has more than 250 pages, deals with the girls’ dance on the 15^th of Av, the famous (or infamous) Bruriah story, the Shemitah controversy, the Novardok yeshiva, haredi revisionism when it comes to Rav Kook, and a number of other topics. The final section focuses on R. Joseph Elijah Henkin, offering a general survey of his life and significance, and a second article dealing with his statements about R. Shlomo Goren and the Langer Affair.

There is so much that can be said about this this rich book, but in the interests of space I will only offer a few comments. I am certain that in future posts I will have the opportunity to come back to it.

In chapter 2, Henkin discusses the fascinating issue of absorption of taste in modern utensils. If the halakhic concept of beliah is based on actual absorption, then when dealing with stainless steel, which does not absorb, the halakhic issues should disappear. Following this line of thinking, it could still be appropriate, for a variety of reasons, to have separate meat and dairy stainless steel utensils. But if one mistakenly cooked dairy in a meat stainless steel pot that had been used with meat in the last day, bediavad the food should be OK to eat and the pot should not need to be kashered. If one were to follow this approach, stainless steel would be treated just as Sephardim treat glass, which can be used for milk and meat as the glass does not absorb.

In response to such a claim about stainless steel, Henkin puts forth the original argument that the real issue is not the new type of materials we use for utensils, but that our ability to perceive taste is not what it used to be. In other words, if our taste buds have deteriorated, then we can no longer use them as the basis of determining if there are beliot.

To prove that our sense of taste has weakened compared to the days of the Sages, Henkin did an experiment:

I took a wooden spoon (an old one, like utensils in the average kitchen) and for about half a minute I used it to stir milk that had been boiled in a glass cup. I then washed the spoon well, and then stirred with it, also for a half minute, about half a cup of tea which had been boiled in a small metal pot (a cezve). At the same time, I stirred the same amount of tea using a new metal spoon. I tasted it myself and gave it to my family to taste (as mesihim lefi tumam, without knowledge of the experiment) and no one could discern any difference in taste between the cups. Even when the family members were asked to guess which of the two cups was “dairy,” the success of the guesses wavered as expected at around 50% (pp. 25-26).

The results he obtained led Henkin to conclude that our sense of taste has weakened. This is because it is clear from the talmudic sages that milk leaves a taste in wooden spoons, and yet in reality we see that this is not the case.

This is a very interesting point that I will leave to scientists to discuss, but I do not think it fundamentally changes the problem. Even if our sense of taste has weakened, and we cannot taste what in previous generations we would have been able to, the fact is that stainless steel by definition does not absorb taste. So even if in the days of the Sages they could sense the flavors absorbed in wood, they would not have been able to taste anything had they used stainless steel. Thus, we return to the question of whether there should be a halakhic concept of beliot when it comes to stainless steel.

I must also mention that Henkin’s teacher, R. Dov Lior, specifically states that one can use stainless steel for both meat and dairy (although in practice he requests that two other poskim agree with this position). [7] I find it hard to believe that this will ever become an accepted practice, but is there any halakhic reason why not, or is it only be a matter of continuing what we have done in the past even if there is no strict halakhic reason to do so? Must we assume, as stated by R. Yaakov Ariel, that the entire concept of beliah is a halakhic notion, which like other halakhot operates according to its own rules that are not tied to scientific facts?[8]

Finally, I must note that unfortunately when the essays were translated no attention was paid to Henkin’s website here. On occasion, Henkin corrected his essays, and when the essays were translated R. Eitam’s corrections should have been included. For example, in chapter 24 he discusses R. Shlomo Goren and the Langer affair. On p. 413 n. 17, he mentions various rabbis who were identified as having been on R. Goren’s special beit din that concluded that the Langer children were not mamzerim. Yet on his website here he notes that two of the names he mentioned are not correct. There are other articles of his where he added more material on the website, so readers who want the most up-to-date scholarship of Henkin are recommended to check there.

3. At the end of my last post I mentioned that the next post would include an unknown article by R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. I was mistaken, for not only is the article not unknown, but it is also included in R. Nathaniel Helfgot’s collection of the Rav’s letters and public statements, Community, Covenant and Commitment, pp. 263-265. Helfgot tells us that the article appeared in the Rabbinical Council Record (no date is given). I thought it was unknown because I found it in Jewish Horizon, Sep.-Oct. 1964, and didn’t at first realize that it was also reprinted in Helfgot’s book. What accompanies the Rav’s article is another article that is pretty much unknown. Although it is recorded in the bibliography of R. Lichtenstein’s writings found here, I have never seen anyone refer to it. While new material from the Rav is obviously very exciting, the same can be said for anything from R. Lichtenstein’s pen.

Since I promised something new from the Rav, how about the following which I believe is the first time that the Rav’s name ever appeared in print. It is from the German Orthodox paper Der Israelit, February 7, 1929, and mentions the shiurim for advanced students that the Rav delivered at an Ezra youth movement gathering in Berlin.

In my Torah in Motion classes on the Rav’s letters, available here, I also discussed the Rav’s reason for rejecting numerous pleas that he put forth his candidacy for the Israeli Chief Rabbinate after the 1959 death of R. Isaac Herzog. A lot has been written about this episode.[9] However, we also have the Rav’s testimony from the 1970s that he was again approached about becoming Chief Rabbi.[10] And there is even one other testimony about the Rav and the Chief Rabbinate, but this time I am referring to the Chief Rabbinate of the United Kingdom. Bernard Homa, Footprints on the Sands of Time (Gloucester, 1990), p. 127, writes as follows about the discussion of who would succeed Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz:

I was one of the representatives of the Federation on the London Board for Shehita, where I served as Vice-President from 1946 to 1948. I also represented the Federation in 1947 on the committee, under the Chairmanship of Sir Robert Waley Cohen, dealing with the appointment of a successor to Dr. Hertz, who had passed away in 1946. I recall two items worthy of mention. Among the several names that came up was that of the famous Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik of Boston. There was no discussion as to his merits but he was quickly excluded from consideration for a very silly reason. The Chairman reported that he had been informed that he did not know how to use a knife and fork properly.[11] His informant was clearly unaware that in the U.S.A. table customs are different from those in this country and the allegation against him was thus not only trivial, but entirely without foundation.[12]

In my article in Hakirah 32 (2022), I published a number of letters from the Rav. Let me share an additional letter, to R. Irwin Haut, which was originally supposed to be included in my article. Unfortunately, I only have the first page. (The family also only has the first page. If any reader has the complete letter, please be in touch.) I thank Professor Haym Soloveitchik for granting me permission to publish it.

י“ג אדר השני, תשי“ט
March 23, 1959

Dear Rabbi Haut:

Acknowledge receipt of your letter. 

1. Liquids which were cooked or boiled before the Sabbath and remained on the covered gas range during the בין השמשות period may be put back, after being removed for the night to the refrigerator, on the covered flame on Saturday morning, provided that the liquid foods do not reach the temperature of יד סולדת. If, however, the liquids are kept near the flame so that their temperature remains above the house temperature, we do not have to concern ourselves with the aspect of יד סולדת. 

2. I would advise you to put a a [!] tin or tin-foil cover on the [next page missing]

The issue here is heating up liquids on Shabbat, and the position of the Rav is more liberal than the standard Orthodox approach today which is not to allow any reheating of liquids (other than Yemenite Jews who follow Maimonides’ opinion). To understand the Rav’s position, we must first note that this was actually the opinion of his mother, Rebbetzin Pesha, who was a scholar in her own right. In this case, I think we can say that the Rav was simply following his family tradition.

This is what appears in Yeled Sha’ashuim, p. 30, a book devoted to R. Ahron Soloveichik[13]:

Rebbitzen Pesha would place cold soup on the hot Shabbos blech and be careful to remove the soup before it became יד סולדת בו. She was not concerned about the איסור חזרה because the psak of the Rama is that if the food was on the Shabbos blech for the duration of בין השמשות on Friday night and was later removed from the Shabbos blech, then there is no איסור חזרה. The only question then is whether there it is forbidden from the standpoint of the איסור בישול. Rebbitzen Pesha reasoned that it is permitted to do this on the basis of ספק ספיקא. First of all, there is a מחלוקת ראשונים as to whether in דבר לח we say אין בישול אחר בישול. The view of חכמי ספרד is that even in דבר לח we say אין בישול אחר בישול. But, in this case, one removes the soup from the Shabbos blech before it reaches the heat of בישול. The soup becomes only lukewarm. There is a מחלוקת רש“י ותוספות whether this is permitted or it is אסור מדרבנן גזירה שמא ישכח וזה יגיע לידי בישול. The question in this case revolves only around an איסור דרבנן. Rebbitzen Pesha, therefore, reasoned that it is permitted on the basis of ספק ספיקא.  

Quite apart from the specific issue of liquids, the Rav’s position allowing food on the blech or even in the oven during bein ha-shemashot to be placed in the refrigerator and returned to the blech or oven the next morning is well known and has been discussed by many. This leniency can be traced to R. Nissim of Gerona who derives it from the Jerusalem Talmud.[14] Let me, however, me add two points. The first is that R. Ahron Soloveichik told me that I could adopt this position in practice. (I only asked about food, not liquids). The second point is that the Rav’s position has been portrayed as only referring to foods, not liquids. Yet we see from his letter to Haut that he, together with his mother, also held this position with regard to liquids.

Having said this, I think people will find the Rav’s instructions to caterers at the Maimonides school of interest. I thank Steven DuBois for calling my attention to this document, which is found here.

In one of these instructions I think it is obvious that the Rav was adopting a more stringent approach because he was dealing with caterers, who will not be as careful in these matters as individuals at home.  As you can see, the Rav only mentions removing solid foods from the refrigerator, but nothing about liquids. I think the reason is clear. An individual at home can be careful that liquids not reach the level of yad soledet bo, but this is not something the Rav was willing to entrust to a caterer who while busily preparing the Shabbat meal will often not be so careful to make sure that the liquid does not reach yad soledet bo.

We only have the first page of the Rav’s letter to Haut, but it is clear that the Rav’s second point is his advice to put a tin or tin foil cover over the stove knobs in addition to the blech. He does not state this as an absolute requirement but as a preferable procedure. However, in his instructions to caterers, this is listed as a requirement.

Let me share some more things related to the Rav, the first one of which comes courtesy of Ovadya Hoffman. In 1993 R. Yitzhak Hershkowitz published the first volume of his responsa Divrei Or. The second section of this volume includes responsa from the sixteenth-century scholar R. Abraham Shtang. In the introduction we find the following sentence:

אחדים מתשובות אלו נדפס ביובל ע“י ר‘ יצחק זימער

This is a very strange sentence, because what does נדפס ביובל mean? It actually refers to the 1984 Sefer Yovel for R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik where Yitzhak (Eric) Zimmer’s article appears (and Zimmer himself spells his name זימר). As Hoffman notes, this is a sort of “the wise will understand” reference. The editor did not feel that his readership could “handle” the actual title of the book, so instead he refers to it in code.

Growing up, maybe the first thing I knew about practices of the Rav was that he stood up with his feet together for the entire repetition of the Amidah. I recall how certain YU students would imitate this practice of the Rav, which sometimes created problems when people would try to exit the row while the students were standing with their feet together. Regarding the Rav’s practice, see R. Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav, pp. 123-124, and here.

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Tefillah 9:3, actually explicitly states: “Everyone – both those who did not fulfill their obligation [to pray] and those who fulfilled their obligation – stands, listens, and recites ‘Amen’ after each and every blessing.” You cannot be much clearer than this, but nevertheless, there are those who offer a different interpretation of Maimonides. According to them, when Maimonides writes והכל עומדין ושומעין it does not mean literally to stand. Rather, עומדין ושומעין means to be quiet and listen. This argument is made by R. Ovadyah Hadaya[15] and R. Isaac Liebes,[16] and they both make the same point in support of their position. R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 124:4, writes: “There are those who say that the entire congregation should stand when the prayer leader repeats the prayer. (Hagahot Minhagim).” Both R. Hadaya and R. Liebes note that R. Isserles could have cited Maimonides to support the view that the congregation should stand for the repetition of the Amidah. The fact that he instead cites Hagahot Minhagim shows that R. Isserles also did not understand Maimonides to literally mean that the congregation stands.

The problem with this is that R. Hadaya and R. Liebes were unaware that the reference to Hagahot Minhagim, and all similar references to books in parenthesis, does not originate with R. Isserles. It was added by a later editor, and thus the point made by R. Hadaya and R. Liebes has no relevance to R. Isserles’ opinion.

Two more points about the Rav: I do not think it is widely known that one of the first publications of the Rav—based on notes of a listener—appeared in a Habad publication in 1942. Here is the title page which on Otzar haChochma is called מאמרי קודש פון כ“ק אדמו“ר שליט“א.

Here is the first page of the Rav’s article.

In a few of my online classes I dealt with the Rav’s opinion that even in contemporary times the hazakah of tav le-meitav tan du mi-le-meitav armelu (that a woman prefers almost any husband to being single) remains applicable. Here is what appears in R. Elyashiv’s Kovetz Teshuvot, vol. 4, no. 117. It sure seems like R. Elyashiv is rejecting the approach of the Rav.

4. In my post here I stated that Saul Lieberman began his studies at the Hebrew University in 1928. This information is based on Elijah J. Schochet and Solomon Spiro, Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work, p. 8. However, a reader points out that in the August 16, 1927 entry of the unpublished diary of R. Mitchel Eskolsky, who was studying in Jerusalem at Yeshivat Merkaz ha-Rav, he speaks of meeting Saul Lieberman who was at that time a student at Hebrew University.

Regarding Lieberman, I thank Aron Rowe who called my attention to the fact that JTS has put some talks of Lieberman online. Before this, I had never heard Lieberman’s voice. See here, here, and here.

For those interested in Lieberman, I recently did eighteen classes on him. You can find them on Youtube here, and they are also currently being turned into podcasts which are on Spotify and other platforms. One interesting point about Lieberman which I did not mention is found in his letter to Gershom Scholem, dated July 10, 1967. (Lieberman’s letters to Scholem are found at the National Library of Israel.) Here he states that he was upset that he was not in Israel during the Six Day War, which would have enabled him to suffer together with Israel’s inhabitants. He comforted himself with the knowledge that he was able to have more of a positive impact in the U.S. than his presence would have had in Israel. He tells us what he has in mind, namely, that he permitted collecting money for Israel on the holiday. As Dr. Aviad Hacohen has pointed out to me, this must be referring to Passover, when tensions between Israel and its neighbors were already at a high level, rather than Shavuot, which came out after the war was over. Here are Lieberman’s words:

הצטערתי מאד שלא הייתי בארץ לפני פרוץ המלחמה ובפריצתה ולא זכיתי להצטער עם הציבור במקום הדאגה והצער, ונֶחׇׇמׇתי היא שהבאתי תועלת כאן הרבה יותר מאשר מציאותי בארץ. התרתי כאן לאסוף כספים ביו“ט, והרבנים שלנו פחדו לעשות כן בפומבי, ופסקתי להם שיטילו את כל האחריות עלי. מעניין שהרבנים האורטודוקסיים שהתנגדו לכך לא פצו אח“ז את פיהם למחות נגדי. אני מכיר יפה את אמריקה ואת ההתלהבות הגדולה שהיא גם עלול להצטנן קצת במשך שעות

We see that his pesak was for the Conservative movement, and when he says “our rabbis,” he means the Conservative rabbis, which he distinguishes from the Orthodox rabbis.

When people think of Lieberman they often think about another instructor in Talmud at JTS, namely, Rabbi David Halivni. I think readers will enjoy two recent publication by Zvi Leshem that record all sorts of interesting stories about Halivni, much like similar collections have been put together about so many great rabbis. See here and here.

Regarding Halivni, the following is also of interest. In 2006 a two-volume book about R. Menahem Mendel Hager of Visheva was published, Ha-Gaon ha-Kadosh mi-Visheva. Here is the title page.

R. Menahem Mendel was the grandfather of Halivni’s wife, and in the second volume there is a dedication from Halivni and his sons in memory of her. Notice how Halivni is referred to as Ha-Gaon and shlita.

5. Unlike today where there are thousands of color pictures of the current gedolim, in the past pictures of great rabbis were uncommon. Just think of the few that are available of for each gadol who lived before the Second World War. When it comes to R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, who died in 1966, we have a good number of pictures of him. However, until now no color pictures of R. Weinberg have ever appeared. I am happy to present the only color pictures of R. Weinberg that I have ever seen. They were taken by R. Weinberg’s nephew, Dr. David Corn, on a visit to Montreux in 1958 or 1959. I thank the Corn family for granting me permission to publish these pictures. The originals are now kept at Ganzach Kiddush Hashem in Bnei Brak.

In this picture we see a young R. Yitzhak Scheiner and a young R. Aviezer Wolfson on the right. Thanks to R. Jeremy Rosen for the identification of R. Wolfson.

Here is Dr. Corn with R. Weinberg.

Here are the remaining pictures he took.

6. In July 2023 I led what I was told was the first ever kosher tour to Tunisia, courtesy of Torah in Motion. Seeing this unique Jewish community up close was an amazing experience for all. 

Here is a beautiful picture from last summer’s trip to Tunisia. The photographer is Alan Messner and it was taken in Djerba. (I encourage everyone who studies Talmud Yerushalmi to check out Alan’s valuable index here.)

Quiz

Please identify the following and email me your answers:

1. There are two se’ifim in the Shulhan Arukh that only contain two words.

2. There is one siman in the Shulhan Arukh whose number is the gematria of the subject of the siman.

Coming next: More on Saul Lieberman, and R. Moshe Zuriel: A Great Teacher in Israel

* * * * * * *

[1] Regarding the Rav and converts, in R. Chaim Jachter’s fascinating new book, Gray Matter, vol. 5, p. 163, he mentions that in a 1985 shiur the Rav stated that non-Jews have a “right to convert.” R. Jachter elaborates on the halakhic implications of this notion.
[2] David Holzer, ed., The Rav Thinking Aloud (Miami Beach, 2009), p. 319.
[3] “Letters from the Rav,” Hakirah 32 (2022), p. 152. Here the Rav is quoted as attributing his position to his father, R. Moses. However, in Reshimot Shiurim: Yevamot (ed. Reichman), p. 211 (to Yevamot 17a), it is attributed to his grandfather, R. Hayyim. After mentioning R. Hayyim’s position that descendants of Jews in Spain who identify as Christians are to be regarded as non-Jews both le-humra and le-kula (meaning their children are also not halakhically Jewish), he adds: והוא חידוש נורא. Levy, p. 82, refers to this page in Reshimot Shiurim, but he focuses on the first possible explanation that the Rav offers, rather than the explanation of R. Hayyim which in practice was what the Rav adopted.

I have to say, however, that the Rav seems to have contradicted himself in a 1965 interview with Ha-Aretz (printed in Community, Covenant and Commitment, pp. 220-221). He stated:

During the “Brother Daniel” episode, I wrote to the Chief Rabbis urging that they should stop attempting to decide this issue according to [formal] Halakhah and decide it based on their emotions. Acccording to [formal] Halakhah, Brother Daniel is a Jew. . . . I prayed that the Justices would not follow the Halakhah.

I must also note that during the Brother Daniel episode in the early 1960s there was only one chief rabbi, R. Isaac Nissim.
[4] It might be an interesting project for someone who listened to many of the Rav’s online shiurim to put together a list of ideas he expressed that are not found in his writings or that are in contradiction to what he wrote. I am sure that there are plenty of examples where the Rav offers an idea that he is not sure about and never would have included in a published work. This is obviously relevant to how much weight we give passages in the series of books The Rav Thinking Aloud.

I thought of this when I read the summary of the Rav’s YU graduate school lecture from the late 1940s published in Hakirah 27 (2019), p. 51:

The commandment of lo tirtzah was not [meant to be] self-evident to the intellect. It is also a hok, as is the eating of hazir. The only difference is that it fits into our moral concept of thinking, whereas hazir doesn’t. [It is not obvious] reasoning that I should not murder someone who stands in my way.

Was this really the Rav’s settled opinion, or was he just trying to be provocative with the students, in order to bring out a point? I do not see how the Rav could have really thought that lo tirzah is a hok, and I do not know of anyone who has made such a claim. After all, the prohibition of murder is one of the Noahide Laws, none of which are hukkim. 

In Community, Covenant and Commitment, p. 333, the Rav accepts that there are “rational laws.” He adds that when the Jews were commanded about rational laws, “an internal-natural instinct was transformed into a Divinely revealed command.” Furthermore, “the normative field of operation was expanded and deepened and reached the depths and farthest boundaries of idealism, which are unknown to the psychological instincts and predilections.”

In Shiurei Harav, ed. Joseph Epstein (Hoboken, 1974), p. 114, the Rav includes lo tirtzah among the mishpatim, but here too he seems to be denying what we can call a natural law prohibition against murder according to R. Akiva. If one were to follow this approach, I do not see how the prohibition against murder can be regarded as a mishpat.

R. Akiva is saying that since you said “Do not murder,” we don’t murder; but if you did not say it, we might do it. R. Ishmael says that even without God, man would know better. For R. Akiva, a man is capable of murder and is stopped only because of God.

Today, not much proof is needed of R. Akiva’s point of view. There is some devil in man; some satan who can suddenly come to the fore. To prevent this, we need the word of God. For R. Akiva, the mishpatim, those rules for which we think we know the reason should be done on the same basis as the hukim, for which we do not know the reason.

Some might wish to bring proof that the prohibition against murder can be seen as natural law since God judged Cain guilty of murder and this was before the giving of the Torah. Yet this is not a strong point because according to Bereishit Rabbah 16:6, and see also Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melakhim 9:1, Adam was already commanded against murder. Yet the fact remains that non-Jews are forbidden to murder, and are called to account for violation of this command. This applies even if they had never heard of God’s revelation to Noah or Moses. Doesn’t this mean that this law is in principle knowable by reason?

Marvin Fox has a different approach.

“Ye shall keep my statutes (Lev., 18:5). This refers to those commandments which if they had not been written in Scripture, should by right have been written. These include the prohibitions against idolatry, adultery, bloodshed, robbery and blasphemy [Yoma 67b].” There is no suggestion here that human reason could have known by itself that these acts are evil, nor is it suggested that they are not consistent with man’s nature. What is asserted is only that, having been commanded to avoid these prohibited acts, we can now see, after the fact, that these prohibitions are useful and desirable.

Fox. Interpreting Maimonides (Chicago and London), p. 127. When it comes to Maimonides, the crux of the problem revolves around Guide 2:33 where he categorizes murder (and the other final seven commandments of the Ten Commandments) as belonging to the “class of generally accepted opinions,” as opposed to the first two commandments which are rational, “knowable by human speculation alone.” For the most recent discussion of Maimonides and Natural Law, see Shalom Sadik, Maimonides: A Radical Religious Philosopher (Piscataway, N.J., 2023), ch. 4.

In the Hakirah article mentioned earlier in this note, the Rav also states as follows:

Those who possess greater knowledge and skill possess also the higher ranks in society. Yet Judaism tried to equate the dignity of every individual regardless of his possession of knowledge. [It differentiated] only in regard to his intellectual drive. Where Judaism gave preference to the hakham over the am ha’aretz, it was not with regard to his accumulation of wisdom but simply because he was engaged in this great ethical drive. If a man tries and fails, he is not condemned. [Rather] he receives equal respect [to that] of the hakham.

These are nice sentiments, but the Rav knew full well that this was never how Jewish society functioned. The am ha’aretz, even one who tried, and failed, to become learned in Torah, was never given equal respect to the hakham.

In reading over this note, I see that I have another point to add. I wrote: “After all, the prohibition of murder is one of the Noahide Laws, none of which are hukkim.” I do, however, know of one source that disagrees with my statement. R. David Kimhi, Commentary to Gen. 26:5, writes:

גם יש בשבע מצות שנצטוו בני נח שאין טעמם נגלה אלא לחכמים והם הרבעת בהמה והרכבת האילן ואבר מן החי לפיכך אמר: חקותי, ואמר: מצותי, כלל לכל המצות השכליות בין בלב, בין ביד ובין בפה מצות עשה ולא תעשה

This is a problematic passage. Leaving aside his assumption that ever min ha-hai is a hok, the other two examples he gives, mixed breeding of animals and grafting of trees, are not included in the Seven Noahide Laws. There is a dispute among the rishonim if these actions are forbidden for non-Jews. Those who hold they are forbidden see these as additional prohibitions separate from the Seven Noahide Laws.

In a future post I will deal with the issue of positive commandments that non-Jews might be obligated in. These are also not included in the Seven Noahide Laws which are only negative commandments.
[5] See my “Letters from the Rav,” p. 151.
[6] Eretz ha-Tzvi, p. 140. This is noted by R. Chaim Jachter, Gray Matter, vol. 5, p. 188.
[7] See p. 25 n. 7, where Henkin tells us that after presenting his approach to R. Lior the latter agreed that one should also perform a comparative analysis with stainless steel and other materials. It does not appear that this would have any impact on his halakhic decision, and he has not publicized a retraction. I would say to R. Eitam, and I regret that I did not have the opportunity to do so in his lifetime, that if scientifically it has been shown that there is no absorption in stainless steel, then as I mentioned in the text, I do not see why the comparative study he suggests accomplishes anything.
[8] See his letter in Ha-Ma’yan 53 (Tevet 5773), pp. 90-93. See also the discussion in Nadav Shnerb, Keren Zavit (Tel Aviv, 2014), pp. 314-322.
[9] See Jeffrey Saks, “Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and the Israeli Chief Rabbinate,” B.D.D 17 (2006), pp. 45-67. See also the lengthy new article by Aviad Hacohen which focuses on the 1935 candidacy of the Rav for chief rabbi of Tel Aviv, but also discusses the period after R. Herzog’s death, “Ki mi-Neged Tir’eh et ha-Aretz ve-Eleha lo Tavo,” in Dov Schwartz, ed., Tziyonut Datit 9 (2023), pp. 153-222.
[10] See David Holzer, ed., The Rav Thinking Aloud (n.p., 2009), p. 143.
[11] R. Meir Mazuz, Mi-Gedolei Yisrael, vol. 1, pp. 197-198, points out that in the first printing of R. Hayyim Joseph David Azulai (Hida), Ma’agal Tov (Livorno, 1879), the printer omitted the details that the Hida recorded about the way Jews in Tunis ate, which their coreligionists in Europe would have viewed as distasteful. This was restored in the Freimann edition, Ma’agal Tov ha-Shalem (Jerusalem, 1934). One of the things the Hida mentions is that in Tunis they ate with their hands, and you can see how uncomfortable it made him (p. 56):

ואוכלים בידיהם ורגליהם וכל שמנונית מלא חפניהם והיה מגביה הגביר חתיכת שומן בעודה בכפו יבלענה ומנקה ידו במטפחת שעל ברכיו והמטפחת נעשה כבית המטבחיים

“And they eat with their hands and with their feet, and with all the fat are their hands filled: the g’vir would lift up a piece of fatty meat and, while holding it in his hand, would he swallow it and then wipe his hands on a towel on his knees; and this towel would become like a butcher’s shop.”

The Diary of Rabbi Ha’im Yosef David Azulai, trans. Benjamin Cymerman (Jerusalem, 2006), Part 2, p. 20.

R. Yisrael Dandrovitz has a fascinating article devoted to the issue of eating with silverware, including the dispute over whether the sages of the Talmud ate with silverware or with their hands. He also deals with the practice of many hasidic rebbes to eat with their hands (some only eat fish with their hands). See “Al Ketzeh ha-Mazleg” Etz Hayyim 21 (5774), pp. 238-269.
[12] I was skeptical about this report of the Rav being considered, and wondered if Homa had remembered correctly. But R. Abraham Lieberman called my attention to Meir Persoff, Hats in the Ring: Choosing Britain’s Chief Rabbis from Adler to Sacks (Boston, 2013), p. 116, where we see that the Rav was indeed one of proposed candidates. The documentary evidence provided by Persoff contains nothing about the Rav’s table manners as a reason for him not being invited to interview for the position of Chief Rabbi.
[13] See also R. Bezalel Naor’s letter in Or ha-Mizrah, Nisan 5766, p. 192 n. 1. R. Naor, who is nothing less than a treasure in the world of Jewish scholarship, continues to amaze with his many contributions. His most recent book is Souls of the World of Chaos, which while focused on Rav Kook also encompasses the entire range of Jewish thinkers.
[14] Shabbat 17b in the Rif pages, s.v. u-mihu.
[15] Yaskil Avdi, vol. 2, no. 2.
[16] Beit Avi, vol. 3, no. 115:6.

Some Notes on Verifying the Authenticity of the Alleged Rav Yisrael Salanter Photographs

By Shnayer Leiman

There are some who claim that the photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter’s sons can be  used for the likeness of their father, since we have testimony that the sons looked almost exactly like their father. Let us examine the evidence.

1. Aside from the 3 published photographs of R. Yisrael’s son R. Yitzchak (see “The Recently Published Photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter”), the only other extant sketch of a son of R. Yisrael Salanter is the portrait of Lipman Lipkin (1846-1876).[1]

Indeed, Menahem G. Glenn would claim:[2]

The portrait of Dr. Lipkin reproduced in the Ha’asiph shows physical  features undoubtedly inherited from his father, a high, broad forehead, lively keen eyes, a prominent aquiline, sensitive nose, a short shorn beard encircling his face, making an impressive appearance. He must have borne a more striking resemblance to his father than any of his brothers. We thus have some idea of what his father, who never allowed himself to be photographed, looked like.

For our purposes, what needs to be noticed is that the likenesses of Lipman Lipkin and his brother R. Yitzchak are mutually exclusive. They are hardly interchangeable. And so, if the one is a replica of R. Yisrael Salanter, the other is not. But there is an even greater flaw in Glenn’s “testimony.” The sine qua non for testimony regarding any likenesses of R. Yisrael Salanter and a son of his – with the son shedding light on the image of the father — is: the witness must have seen both! But, Glenn, in all likelihood, never saw any of R. Yisrael Salanter’s sons. And I can say with absolute certainty that Glenn (1896-1978) never set eyes on R. Yisrael Salanter, who died in 1883.

2. In 1954, the earliest of the 3 extant photographs of R. Yitzchak Lipkin was published by his grandson, R. Hayyim Yitzchak Lipkin (1911-1988).[3] It appeared as follows:

At the right of the photo, the legend reads (in part):

According to eye-witness testimony, his likeness
[literally: his facial features] resembled that of his
father R. Yisrael.

Now this is more serious evidence. At least two issues, however, came to mind when I first saw this.

Issue 1: I suspect that almost every reader of this note has been told, at some point in his life, that he/she looks like his/her father, mother, or both. I have been told by some that I look “exactly” like my father, and by others that I look “exactly’ like my mother. In fact, I look “exactly” like neither, but inherited traits of both. In brief, this is hardly an exact science. So whenever someone testifies that A looks like B, it may well be more a personal opinion than a statement of fact.

Issue 2: I noticed that the “eye-witness” was not identified. Who was the witness? Is he a reliable witness? Did he actually see R. Yisrael and R. Yitzchak? Nothing in the 1954 volume sheds light on these questions.

In 2003, a fuller and much expanded edition of the 1954 R. Hayyim Lipkin volume appeared in print.[4] The photo and its legend were conspicuously absent! אין זה אומר אלא דרשני.

3. In 2017, R. Menahem Mendel Plato published a massive 445 page biography of R. Yisrael Salanter.[5] It included the following photograph of R. Yitzchak and the legend under it.[6]

The legend reads in part: “According to the testimony of his [i.e. R. Yisrael Salanter’s] descendant, Rav Dessler, his [R. Yitzchak’s] image is like that of his father.”

At last, the witness is identified. It is none other than Rav Eliyahu Dessler, a great-grandson of R. Yisrael Salanter, who is prominently featured elsewhere in the Plato volume.[7] He is surely a trustworthy witness for what he may have heard from others. But he cannot be an “eye-witness” for what R. Yisrael Salanter looked like. Rav Eliyahu Dessler (1892-1953) was born almost 10 years after R. Yisrael Salanter died in 1883.

In sum, until we have the testimony of an unequivocal witness who saw both R. Yisrael and R. Yitzchak, and testifies that indeed they looked almost exactly alike, we do not know what R. Yisrael looked like, other than by the vivid descriptions by those who actually saw him.[8] It is thus injudicious, to say the least, when a publisher recently reissued the classic anthology of R. Yisrael Salanter’s writings, אור ישראל, with an unidentified photograph of R. Yisrael’s son, R. Yitzchak, on the cover![9]

It honors neither R. Yisrael nor R. Yitzchak, who devoted their lives to teaching and telling the truth.[10]

NOTES

[1] Published in האסיף (Warsaw, 1884-85), part 2, p. 259.
[2] M.G. Glenn, Israel Salanter: Religious-Ethical Thinker, (New York, 1953), pp. 65-66.
[3] תורת רבי ישראל מסלנט (Tel-Aviv, 1954), part 2, p. 126.
[4] תורת רבי ישראל מסלנט (Jerusalem, 2003).
[5] אור ישראל מסלנט (n.p., 2017).
[6] Op. cit., p. 119.
[7] Op. cit., pp. 239-240. On Rav Dessler, see Y. Rosenblum, Rav Dessler (New York, 2000).
[8] Aside from the sources cited in “The Recently Published Photographs of Rav Yisrael Salanter,” see the description by R. Yitzchak Blazer, אור ישראל (Vilna, 1900), p. 120, ד“ה עליו נתקיים.
[9] אור ישראל (North Haven, Conn., 2020).
[10] I am indebted to my colleague, Zalman Alpert, who insisted that I address this issue; and to my son, R. Akiva, who provided the closing image of what the cover of a R. Yisrael Salanter anthology looks like when members of the family become interchangeable parts.

——————-

APPENDIX

Having devoted several postings to true and false claims (regarding photographs), we attach a brief, seasonal דבר תורה about true and false claims embedded in a commentary on the הגדה של פסח .

One of my favorite hasidic stories is about אמת. It reads as follows:

R. Pinchas of Koretz (1726-1791) was a man of truth. He devoted seven years to researching the definition of אמת. He spent another seven years researching the definition of שקר. He spent yet another seven years researching how one goes about acquiring truth and distancing himself from falsehood. In order to appreciate what R. Pinchas of Koretz accomplished, one need only examine the case of R. Shem of Kalshitz.

R. Shem of Kalshitz  used to go the mikvah in the darkness of the night, just prior to his fixed hours for Torah study after midnight. He ordinarily went to the mikvah together with an aide. One night, R. Shem noticed that the aide was sound asleep and he didn’t want to disturb him. He went by himself to the mikvah, deep in holy thought. Unfortunately, he stumbled and fell into a pit in the ground, breaking a rib in the process. The next morning, upon entering the  בית המדרש  for the morning prayers, the Hasidim were shocked not to see the Rebbe, R. Shem, sitting and learning in his usual seat. They made search, found him unconscious in the pit,  and brought him to his house. There, he spent many weeks in recovery, wrapped in bandages and barely able to move. During the entire recovery period, he never complained, indeed, he never even groaned!  His Hasidim asked him: “Rebbe, how is it possible that you haven’t groaned even once?” R. Shem answered: “I try to follow the teachings of R. Pinchas of Koretz, who taught that groaning — more often than is warranted by the pain —  is a subcategory of שקר. So, just to be on the safe side, I don’t groan at all.”   

                                           ———————————–

Since many are groaning about the arduous task of preparing for Passover, I thought the above story may prove useful. The story was translated (with minor modification) from the Hebrew version that appears in R. Shalom Meir Wallach’s  באהלי צדיקים   הגדה של פסח  (Bnei Brak, 1989, p. 159; Bnei Brak, 2007, p. 210). An English version of the Wallach Haggadah, entitled Haggadah of the Chassidic Masters, was published by ArtScroll in 1990 (and in many later editions; I saw the Fifth Impression published in 2020, where our passage occurs at  p. 115). Wallach’s Haggadah is a treasure trove of hasidic Torah, thought, and folklore.

The story itself teaches us how difficult it is to discover the truth, and how painful it sometimes can be when we strive to implement the truth. And it teaches these themes in more ways than one. Thus, for example, there never was a Rebbe named R. Shem of Kalshitz. I know this because there never was a town populated with Hasidim called Kalshitz. And a Rebbe without Hasidim will not long remain a Rebbe. (Kalshitz should not be confused with Kaloshitz, a small town in Galicia that did have a Rebbe, but never one whose name was R. Shem.) It is relatively easy, however, to identify the R. Shem of our story, since almost no Rebbe (or Rabbi, for that matter) bore the name Shem. The reference is clearly to R. Shem Klingberg (1870-1943), who was an outstanding rabbinic scholar  and Rebbe, known as R. Shem of Zaloshitz (also spelled: Zaloczyce and Dzialoshitz). Zaloshitz was a town some 44 kilometers northeast of Krakow, where R. Shem’s father, R. Avraham Mordechai served as Rebbe. R. Avraham Mordechai later moved to Krakow, and upon his death, was succeeded, as Rebbe, by his son R. Shem. R. Shem is properly known as מזאלושיץ בקראקא  האדמו”ר. Sadly, R. Shem died a martyr’s death in the Plaszow concentration camp in 1943.

The various accounts in the Wallach Haggadah give as the source for the story:  הקדמת אהל שם. No book by the name of  אהל שם   presents in its introduction the story of R. Shem of Zaloshitz. The reference should read: R. Shem Klingberg,אהלי שם על התורה ועל המועדים  (Jerusalem, 1961), הקדמה, p. 15. There, in a biography of R. Shem by one of his surviving sons (at the time), R. Moshe Klingberg, the story appeared in print for the first time.

The errors listed above appear in all the editions of the Wallach Haggadah, whether in Hebrew or in English. None of the editions even attempted to identify “R. Shem of Kalshitz.” Truth is elusive indeed. In general, see the essays on R. Shem of Zaloshitz in M. Unger, אדמו”רים שנספו בשואה  (Jerusalem, 1969), pp. 287-289; and in I. Lewin, ed., אלה אזכרה   (New York, 1972), vol. 7, pp. 266-270. R. Shem died על קידוש השם   on 28 Nisan 1943. 

The Recently Published Photographs of Rav Yisrael Salanter: Real or Imaginary?

By Shnayer Leiman

As early as 2006, and continuing through 2022, a flurry of photographs, purporting to bear the likeness of Rav Yisrael Salanter, have either appeared in print or have been posted on the Internet (see below, section II). While the publication of these photos certainly attests to his abiding influence well into the 21^st century, their authenticity seems less than certain, and demands investigation. At the very least, one wonders why the likeness of a world renowned rabbi, who died in 1883, did not come to light until almost 125 years after his death![1]

I. The Early Evidence for What R. Yisrael Salanter Looked Like.

A proper discussion of what R. Yisrael actually looked like must begin with an examination of the testimony of his contemporaries who interacted with him and knew him best. The Torah teaches us (at Dt.19:15) that a matter can be established by two or three witnesses, so we shall present below the testimony of three witnesses who knew R. Yisrael personally.[2]

1. In 1899, Emil Benjamin, published the first biography of Rav Yisrael Salanter.[3] At the time, Benjamin served as a teacher of Jewish religion in Memel, Prussia, a port city on the Baltic Sea with some 1000 Jews (today: Kleipeda in Lithuania). Benjamin, a native of Memel, was a disciple of R. Zvi Hirsh Plato (1822-1910) who was a son-in law of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch. R. Plato served as Rav of the separatist Orthodox community of Cologne, and head of its Teacher’s Seminary, where Benjamin was trained as a teacher. Benjamin was a young man between 1857 and 1878, the very years that R. Yisrael Salanter spent many a year in Memel, which served as a base of operations for his various educational activities in Lithuania, Prussia, Germany, and France. R. Yisrael invited Benjamin to serve as his aid during a significant portion of those years, and Benjamin wisely accepted the invitation. Intimately involved in R. Yisrael’s daily affairs, Benjamin was in a unique position to record for posterity what it was like to be in his presence. Benjamin wrote:[4]

Rabbi Lipkin was of medium height, seemingly strong but lean in stature, and of ordinary build. His outward appearance immediately revealed a man of unusual significance. The broad forehead, the interesting character reflected by the shape of his head, the sharp look, all reflected the great thinker that he was. His countenance was almost always flush red, probably due to the struggle between body and spirit within him. Often he was lost in thought, and he seemed to forget everything around him, and appeared to be talking to himself. In spite of his deep seriousness, his conversation was often spiced with a pleasant sense of humor and whimsical thoughts…Curiously, this humble and unselfish man never consented to allow the features of his face to be painted by the artist’s brush and, thus, to be preserved for posterity. [Italics mine, sl]

2. Yaakov Mark (1856-1929) was a graduate of the Telz Yeshiva (in Telshe, Lithuania) who devoted a good portion of his life to training Jews (in a variety of languages) to master bookkeeping, so that they could gain and hold jobs in the various countries where they would ultimately find themselves.[5] He also devoted his later years to making literary contributions to Hebrew and Yiddish periodical literature. His only book, entitledגדולים פון אונזער צייט (New York, 1927),[6] is devoted to biographies of the key persons that he knew personally, such as R. Hayyim Soloveichik, the Malbim, and R. Yisrael Salanter. His opening line regarding R. Yisrael Salanter reads: “In my younger years, I often had the privilege of meeting with R. Yisrael. I heard his public lectures, his private lectures, and had the opportunity to observe him at close range.” In his book, he writes:[7]

All who encountered him when walking in the streets, whether Jew or Gentile, greeted him courteously. Even in the most crowded street of Berlin it was rare that a passerby would not stop to behold the great thinker, who used to wander about while engrossed in deep thought. All were impressed by his stately figure, his especially handsome beard, and his particularly character-full head with its unusually wide forehead, his red-white face, his blue eyes, with his sharp, yet good-natured look. This, despite the fact that he never wore official rabbinic garb but, rather, simple lay dress, with an ordinary hat on his head – not particularly elegant – but always clean and tidy. How sad that no photograph of him exists! It was simply impossible to get him to agree to sit for a painting or a photograph. [Italics mine, sl]

3. David Sidersky (circa 1858-1943), a grandson of R. Yisrael Salanter who edited אמרי בינה (Warsaw, 1878), the first ספר by R. Yisrael that was printed during his lifetime and that listed his name as the author, also published a biography of his grandfather in 1936-7.[8] Sidersky wrote as follows:[9]

R. Yisrael, under no circumstances, allowed himself to be photographed. Indeed, not a trace of his image exists. [Italics mine, sl] This, however, is what he looked like: he was of medium height, handsome, with glowing face. He had a full beard, with curls surrounding its edges. He spoke pleasantly, and always greeted everyone warmly.

If one reads the full biographical accounts of R. Yisrael Salanter by the three witnesses listed above, it becomes quite obvious that these are three independent accounts. Each records significant material about R. Yisrael Salanter that does not appear in the other accounts.[10] But there can be no question that Mark was influenced by Benjamin’s account, and that Sidersky was influenced by both Benjamin and Mark. The literary influence of the earlier accounts on the later accounts is obvious, even in the snippets translated above. Nonetheless, notice that only Benjamin mentions R. Yisrael’s sense of humor; only Mark refers to R. Yisrael’s blue eyes; and only Sidersky notes the curls that surrounded the edge of R. Yisrael’s full beard.

II. What Might R. Yisrael Salanter Not Have Looked Like?[11]

1. In 2006-2008, R. Shlomo Lorincz – a political leader of Agudat Yisrael during 1951-1984 and a חבר כנסת – published his classic work במחיצתם של גדולי התורה. In vol. 2, p. 14,[12] there appeared a striking photograph, with the name רבי ישראל סלנטר under it.

The photo appears to be that of a young R. Yisrael Salanter, perhaps 35- 45 years old. If so, the photo would have been taken between 1845 and 1855, at a time when the camera was mostly unknown and unavailable to the general public in Eastern Europe. One need not guess about the true identity of the person photographed. It is R. Yitzchak Lipkin (d. 1903), a son of R. Yisrael Salanter. Rav and Darshan, he was a distinguished תלמיד חכם who held several rabbinic posts in Lithuania before settling in Eretz Yisrael, where he died in his early 60’s.[13] Three photographs of him have been preserved by the Lipkin family. Aside from the early photo published by Lorincz, see below for two photos from a later period in his life:[14]

All that needs to concern us here is that R. Yitzchak Lipkin was R. Yisrael Salanter’s son, and not R. Yisrael Salanter himself. The photograph is a real picture of R. Yitzchak Lipkin, and an imaginary one of R. Yisrael Salanter. Not surprisingly, in later editions of במחיצתם של גדולי התורה , the misidentified photo was pulled. Thus, vol. 2, p. 14 now looks like this:[15]

2. On February 2, 2011, Jewish Currents magazine published the following tribute to R. Israel Salanter on his yahrzeit:

Not an ardent reader of Jewish Currents magazine (described by Wikipedia as a “a progressive, secular Jewish quarterly magazine and news site whose content reflects the politics of the Jewish left), I did not see this when it first appeared in print. It was brought to my attention later in 2011 by an East European Jewish historian about to publish an essay on R. Yisrael Salanter. She saw the tribute – and its photograph — on the Internet and was considering adding the photograph to her essay. She expressed surprise, since she had never seen a photograph of R. Yisrael Salanter. I immediately sent the following brief note to Jewish Currents magazine:

Thanks for remembering R. Israel Salanter on the day he died in 1883. Lest anyone be misled by the appended photograph, it clearly is a twentieth century photograph of someone other than R. Israel Salanter. In fact, it is a photograph of a Rumanian born rabbi (not a Litvak), Jacob Shachter, who was born after Salanter died. Shachter served with distinction as a rabbi in Manchester, England, then as rabbi in Belfast, Ireland. He died in Jerusalem in 1971.

Of course, I informed the East European scholar to cease and desist. Here I’ll add a bit more about Rabbi Shachter. He was a prolific author, whose publications included two very important works: a) A kind of Torah Shelemah on the Book of Proverbs, which gathers together all of Talmudic Commentary (Bavli and Yerushalmi) on the verses of Proverbs. It is entitled: ספר משלי בדברי חז“ל עם ביאור דברי יעקב (Jerusalem, 1963 and later editions), and b) The Student’s Guide Through the Talmud by Z. H. Chajes, translated, edited, and critically annotated by Jacob Shachter (London, 1952 and later editions). For our purposes, we need only to look at the title pages and frontispieces of two of his other publications, one in Hebrew and one on English: דברים לדוד (Jerusalem, 1966) and Ingathering: Collected Papers, Essays and Addresses (Jerusalem, 1966):

Clearly, the Shachter photo cannot pass for what R. Yisrael Salanter looked like. Even if we couldn’t identify the Shachter photo, a simple comparison of the beard in the photo with R. Yisrael Salanter’s beard as described by the testimony of eyewitnesses who knew him (“full beard, with curls surrounding its edges”) would have sufficed to disqualify the photo as a candidate for the actual likeness of R. Yisrael Salanter. In sum, the photograph is a real picture of R. Jacob Shachter, and an imaginary one of R. Yisrael Salanter.

3. On January 22, 2022, a YWN [Yeshiva World News] posting opened with a large imaginary photograph of R. Yisrael Salanter. It was, in fact, once again a photo of R. Jacob Shachter. To the credit of YWN, as soon as they were informed of the error the photograph was removed and replaced with a scan of the title page of R. Yitzchak Blaser’s classic anthology of R. Yisrael Salanter’s teaching, אור ישראל (Vilna, 1900).

4. In March of 2022, Rabbi Berel Wein’s Struggles, Challenges, and Tradition (Shaar Press) appeared in print. It is a magnificently produced volume, filled with vintage Rabbi Berel Wein wisdom. Alas, on p. 129 R. Jacob Shachter appears once again as R. Yisrael Salanter. One suspects that the culprit was an editorial assistant in charge of locating photos for the volume. Hopefully, the error will be corrected in the Second Impression.

We have listed 4 samples of misrepresentation of R. Yisrael Salanter. There are many more.[16] All one has to do is Google “Rabbi Israel Salanter.” One will see immediately many of the fake news photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter. And if you click on each one of the fakes, names like JewishHistory.org and Torah-Box.net will turn up. But it is neither history nor Torah, it is fake news. Sadly, once fake news is posted on the Internet, it multiplies even more rapidly than the Jews did in ancient Egypt. The Internet can be likened to the kind of sinner the Rabbis spoke about in b. Yoma 86b: כיון שעבר אדם עבירה ושנה בה…נעשו לו כהיתר “Once a person sins, and repeats the sin, he considers it permissible.” Indeed, once fake news is posted on the Internet, it is not merely considered possible news, it almost immediately becomes authoritative news. The only remedy, if there is one, is to never post in haste, and to post only after much review, including review by others. Moreover, any and all errors need to be corrected as quickly as possible on the very site where the posting first appeared.

Notes:

[1] None of the authors (listed below in section II) who posted photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter took the trouble to source, or verify the authenticity of, the photographs they posted. Methodologically, it is essential that any materials, whether manuscripts or photographs, published some 100 or more years after the death of the person they are ascribed to, or identified with, be verified. This is especially the case when a plethora of historical biographies and scholarly studies already exist on the key person involved – as is the case regarding R. Yisrael Salanter – and the existence of the posted photographs has eluded all of them. For the basic bibliography on R. Yisrael Salanter (through 1993), see Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Israel Salanter and the Mussar Movement (Philadelphia, 1993), pp. 373-379; and Hillel Goldberg, Israel Salanter: Text, Structure, Idea (New York, 1982), pp. 309-329. Much more of significance has been published since then (e.g., ספר הזכרון קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak. 2003); Hayyim Yitzchak Lipkin, ed., תורת רבי ישראל מסלנט (Jerusalem, 2003); and קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak, 2014).

[2] Many other witnesses could have been adduced. See, for example, R. Baruch Epstein, מקור ברוך (Vilna, 1928), vol. 4, pp. 1800-1804, for a vivid account of a chance encounter with R. Yisrael Salanter in Vilna, 1879. Our purpose here is not to overwhelm the reader with sources. Rather, it is to gather the most persuasive sources, and not more than necessary.

[3] Rabbi Jsrael Lipkin Salant: Sein Leben und Wirken (Berlin, 1899).

[4] Op. cit., pp. 34-35. The German original reads: “Rabbi Lipkin war von mittelhoher, ziemlich kräftiger aber hagerer Natur und von regelmässigem Körperbau. Schon seine äussere Erscheinung liess sogleich einen Mann von ungewöhnlicher Bedeutung erkennen. Die mächtige Stirn, der interessante Charakter- kopf, der scharfe Blick verrieten den grossen Denker. Sein Antlitz war fast beständig gerötet, wohl infolge des aufgehobenen Gleichgewichts zwischen Körper und Geist. Oft war er derart in Gedanken versunken, dass er alles um sich herum zu vergessen schien und im Alleingespräch mit sich selber beschäftig war… Merkwürdiger Weise hat dieser bescheidene und selbstlose Mann niemals seine Einwilligung dazu gegeben, dass die Züge seines Antlitzes durch den Pinsel eines Malers nachgeahmt und der Nachwelt erhalten würden.”

[5] See Yaakov Mark’s entry in לעקסיקאן פון דער נייער יידישער ליטעראטור (New York, 1963), vol. 5, column 514.

[6] A much abridged, and freely translated, Hebrew version of Mark’s גדולים פון אונזער צייט appeared under the title במחיצתם של גדולי הדור (Jerusalem, 1958). An accurate English translation of the original Yiddish volume would make a significant contribution to Jewish scholarship and culture.

[7] גדולים פון אונזער צייט, pp. 88-89. The Yiddish original reads:

אלע וועלכע פלעגען איהם באגעגענען אויפ‘ן גאס, סיי אידען סיי גוים, האבען איהם
העפליכסט באגריסט. זאגאר אין די לעבהאפטסטע גאסן פון בערלין פלעגט זעלטען–
ווער איהם גלייכגילטיג פארבייגעהן און זיך ניט אפשטעלען באוואונדערן דעם
גרויסען דענקער, וואס פלעגט שטענדיג ארומגעהן פארזונקען אין געדאנקען
אימפאנירט האט אלעמען זיין שטאטליכע פיגור, זיין וואנדערבאר–שעהנעם הדרת
פנים, זיין אינטערעסאנטער כאראקטער–קאפ מיט‘ן גוואלדיגען ברייטען שטערן און
.וויס–רויטליכען פנים, זיינע בלויע אויגען מיט‘ן שארפען גוטמוטהיגען בליק
,טראצדעם וואס ער איז קיינמאל ניט געגאנגען אין אויפפאלענדע רבני‘שע קליידער
נאר אין פשוט‘ע בעל–הבית‘ישע, מיט א געוועהנליכער היטעל אויפ‘ן קאפ און אויך
,ניט באזונדערס עלעגאנט, נאר שטענדיג געווען ריין און זויבער. א גרויסער שאדען
וואס פון איהם איז קיין שום בילד ניט נאכגעבליבען. מען האט בשום–אופן ביי איהם
.ניט געקענט פועל‘ן זיך צו לאזען מאלען אדער פאטאגראפירען

[8] David Sidersky, ר‘ ישראל סאלאנטר ז“ל: תולדות חייו ופעולותיו“, היהודי (1936-7) 2:4,” pp. 57-60; 2:5, pp. 81-84; 2:6, pp. 112-114; 2:8, pp. 153-155.

[9] היהודי (1937) 2:8, p. 155. The Hebrew original reads:

.ר‘ ישראל לא רצה בשום אופן להצטלם ולא נשאר שום זכרון מדמות דיוקנו
וזה תבניתו: קומה בינונית, יפה תואר עם פנים מאירים, זקנו מגודל וקוצותיו
.תלתלים, שיחתו היתה בנעימות והיה מקבל תמיד את כל אדם בסבר פנים יפות

[10] Most notably, Sidersky’s account is the only one (of the three accounts) that lists the names of R. Yisrael’s (and his wife Esther’s) six children (four sons and two daughters): Malkah Hindah, Shmuel, Aryeh Leib, Hodah Libah, Yitzchak, and Yom Tov Lipman.

[11] The formulation of the question is a playful echo of the title of the essay by Shimon Steinmetz entitled “What Might R. Yisrael Salanter Have Looked Like?,” On the Main Line, March 2, 2010. That essay was part II of his previous essay entitled “What Did R. Yisrael Salanter Look Like?,” On the Main Line, March 23, 2006. Both essays are must reading for this topic.

[12] במחיצתם של גדולי התורה (Jerusalem, 2006-8), 2 vols.

[13] For important writings by, and about, R. Yitzchak Lipkin, see R. Hayyim Yehoshua Kosovsky, ed., חוט המשולש (Jerusalem, 1904); R. Yitzchak Lipkin, לוחות אבנים (Jerusalem, 1978); and “רשימות רבי יצחק ליפקין בן רבינו” in ספר הזכרון קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak, 2003), pp. 97-100.

[14] Cf. the Steinmetz essays cited above, n. 11.

[15] במחיצתם של גדולי התורה (Jerusalem, 2010), fifth edition, vol . 2, p. 14.

[16] On September 24, 2020, an essay was posted on the Internet entitled “Eating by Example on Yom Kippur, an Epidemic Story.” It revisited the story of R. Yisrael Salanter’s response to the cholera epidemic in Vilna in 1848. Once again, a photo of Rabbi Jacob Shachter was prominently displayed as the likeness of R. Yisrael Salanter.

For the Sake of Radin!  The Sugar Magnate’s Missing Yarmulke and a Zionist Revision

Israel Brodsky (1823-1888), built an empire on the sugar trade. After inheriting a substantial fortune, in 1843, he became a partner in a sugar refinery.[1] Eventually, he vertically integrated his business, and he controlled sugar beet lands, processing plants, refineries, marketing agencies, and warehouses throughout the Russian Empire. At its height, Brodsky controlled a quarter of all sugar production in the Empire and employed 10,000 people.[2] Brodsky sugar “was a household name from Tiflis to Bukhara to Vladivostok.”[3] Brodsky was a significant philanthropist, donating to Jewish and non-Jewish causes. In Kyiv, he and his sons virtually single-handedly founded the Jewish hospital, Jewish trade school, a free Jewish school, mikveh, and communal kitchen besides substantial individual donations, amounting to 1,000 rubles monthly, and donated to St. Vladimir University. Many of these institutions would bear the Brodsky name. Leading Shalom Aleichem to remark that the “the bible starts with the letter beyes and [Kyiv], you should excuse the comparison, also starts with beyes – for the Brodskys.” [4]

In addition to supporting local causes, he also helped other institutions outside of Kyiv. One was providing an endowment for a kolel at the Volozhin Yeshiva. The institution of the kolel, a communally subsidized institution that supported men after marriage, was originated by R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines (1839-1915). Reines was a student of the Volozhin Yeshiva and would go on to establish the Mizrachi movement and the Lida Yeshiva, both of which were attacked by some in the Orthodox establishment.[5] Invoking the Talmudic passage Rehaim al Tsaverum ve-Yasku be-Torah?!, in 1875, he proposed an institution where “men of intellect . . . will gather to engage in God’s Torah until they are worthy and trained to be adorned with the crown of the rabbinate, that will match the glory of their community, to guide the holy flock in the ways of Torah and the fear of Heaven.” Without the communal funds, these “men of intellect” would “be torn away from the breasts of Torah because of the poverty and lack that oppresses them and their families.”[6] Reines intended that the kolel be associated with Volozhin. And, in 1878, an attempt to create such an institution began taking shape, with the idea to approach the Brodskys for funding. For reasons unknown, this never happened. Instead, through the generosity of Ovadiah Lachman of Berlin, the first kolel was established in 1880. The kolel opened not in Volozhin but Kovno. It would be another six years before Volozhin established its kolel.[7]

In 1886, Brodsky donated a substantial sum to create a kolel in Volozhin. He created an endowment fund that yielded 2,000 rubles annually. But unlike the Kovno kolel that produced some of the greatest rabbis and leaders of the next generation, according to one assessment the Volozhin kolel “had little influence on the yeshiva’s history” nor the general public.[8]

Comparing Brodsky’s donation to the kolel to that of his other contributions demonstrates that this donation was similar to his most significant gifts. His donation was in the form of stock, and while we don’t have an exact estimate of the value of those shares, we can extrapolate the total amount of Brodsky’s donations. Brodsky donated 60 shares of the Kyiv Land Bank, which was intended to produce 2,000 rubles per annum.[9] But the amount of the principle, the 60 stocks, is not provided in the source materials. In 1890, a  similar endowment by the Brodskys produced 3,000 rubles annually from a principle of 50,000 rubles, a 6 percent rate of return. Assuming a similar rate of return, his initial donation to the Volozhin kolel nearly 35,000 rubles. That is the similar amount that he donated to the Kyiv free Jewish school, the St. Vladimir’s University, and Kyiv’s mikve and communal kitchen that all received 40,000-ruble bequests.[10] Consequently, Brodsky’s gift of 60 shares of stock to the Volozhin kolel is comparable to Brodsky’s other institutional donations.

The Brodskys aligned with the Russian Haskalah movement that today we would likely characterize as Modern Orthodox, although admittedly, the definitions of sects are amorphous. The Russian haskalah was notable for embracing modernity while maintaining punctilious observance of halakha. One example that involved both the intersection of society at large and religious practice was that when the Governor-General invited two of Israel’s sons to a prestigious gala at his home, the Governor-General also provided the sons with kosher food.[11] Another example of the Brodskys’ Jewish outlook was their involvement in Kyiv’s Choral Synagogue. Choral synagogues were already established in other cities throughout the Russian Empire, including Warsaw, Vilna, and St. Petersburg. The synagogue, known as the Brodsky Synagogue, was built in 1898 by Israel’s son, Lazer. Modern practices were introduced to the Kyiv Choral Synagogue, but even those are within the bounds of accepted Jewish law.[12] Indeed, those new practices are today unremarkable, hiring a hazan, incorporating a choir into the service, delivering the sermon in Russian, and enforcing decorum during the prayers.[13]

The Haredi histories of Volozhin discuss Brodsky’s contributions to the kolel. But one publication decided that his reputation needed some creative airbrushing to (presumably) make his involvement more palatable to the modern Haredi audience. Despite the fact that other Haredi publications provide an unvarnished version.

One person who met Brodsky described him as resembling that of a biblical patriarch in appearance, yet at the same time non-Jewish.[14] Indeed a photo from 1880, this biblical patriarch appears bareheaded. This lack of head-covering was not an issue for some Haredi authors. For example, Dov Eliach includes this photograph in his history of the Volozhin Yeshiva.[15] In 2001, not ten years after Eliach’s book another Haredi author decided that the photo required adjustment despite sharing the same publisher as Eliach.

Menahem Mendel Flato’s book, Besheveli Radin (Radin’s Paths), devotes an entire chapter to Brodsky’s kolel, with his photograph accompanying the text. Yet, in this instance, rather than a bareheaded Brodsky, a crudely drawn yarmulke now appears on his head.[16] This is not the first time that images were doctored to depict a yarmulke where there is none.[17] Those types of alterations occur decades after the original, by different publishing houses, in different cities, and for a different audience.[18] Here, however, Avi ha-Yeshivot and Besheveli Radin share the same audience and are only separated by ten years. [19]

The alternation of Brodsky’s photo is not the only example of such censorship in Besheveli Radin. R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein studied in Volozhin and eventually went on to lead the Yeshivas Kenneset Yisrael in Slabodka. While he was in Volozhin, he was among those who established a proto-Zionist organization, Nes Tsiona. A photograph of the executive members appears in at least three places, yet only in Besheveli Radin is the connection to Nes Tsiona omitted.

In 1960 and 1970, two books published the photo from a copy in Russian Zionist Archives.[20] The 1960s’ version includes a legend that correctly identifies the photo as “the executive committee of the ‘Nes Tsiona’ in Volozhin in 1890.[21] The legend in the 1970 book contains the same language as before, indicating that it is a photograph of the Nes Tsiona executive committee and also identifies each of the men in the picture.[22] Yet, when the same photo appears in Beshvili Radin it is accompanied by an entirely different legend.[23] Instead, Beshvili Radin describes the photograph as depicting “a group of students from Volozhin from those days, R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein who eventually became the rosh yeshiva of Slaboka is sitting second from the right.” The purpose of the group photograph remains a mystery to Beshvili Radin‘s readers.

The history of Volozhin is complex and especially among Haredi writers raised issues that are uncomfortable truths.  Some of these authors responded by obscuring or entirely omitting these including the inclusion of secular studies in the curriculum, establishment and membership in non-traditional religious organizations, and the religiosity of some of its students.[24] Beshvilie Radin is but one example.  In his introduction, Flato discusses the purpose of Beshvilie Radin describing it as “providing the reader an entirely new perspective of that era.” We can now say that the “new perspective” is one that at times deviates from the historical record.

[1] Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, s.v. “Israel Markovich Brodsky,” (accessed November 20, 2019), https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Бродский,_Израиль_Маркович (Russian).

[2] Id.; Nathan M. Meyer, Kiev: Jewish Metropolis a History, 1859-1914 (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2010), 39.

[3] Meyer, Kiev, 39.

[4] Meyer, Kiev, 39, 40, 71.

[5] For a biography of Reines see Geulah Bat Yehuda, Ish ha-Meorot: Rebi Yizhak Yaakov Reines (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1985)

[6] Shaul Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century: Creating a Tradition of Learning, trans. Lindsey Taylor-Guthartz (Oxford, 2015) (original work published 1995 (Hebrew)), 338 (quoting Yitzhak Yaakov Reines, Hotam Tokhnit, vol. 1 (1880), 17n4). For sources regarding the Lida Yeshiva see Eliezer Brodt, “Introduction,” in Mevhar Ketavim m’et R. Moshe Reines ben HaGoan Rebi Yitzhak Yaakov (2018), 12n42. See id. 354-61 for correspondence between the Netziv to R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines regarding the establishment of a kolel.

[7] Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 337-40. One possibility regarding the failure to start the kolel at that time in Volozhin might be attributable to Reines’ recognition that governmental approval was necessary to establish the kolel.  Volozhin had a difficult relationship with the Tsarist authorities.  See id. at 191-98. Adding a new institution might have been seen as a risk to the operation of the Volozhin yeshiva itself.

[8] Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 358-59.  Among the conditions of the donation was that during the first year after his death ten men were selected and were required to visit the grave R. Hayim Volozhin’s and leading the prayers, and the recitation of the mourner’s kaddish, in addition to daily study of the mishnayot with the commentary of the Vilna Gaon, and leading the services.  The same was done on the yahrzeit of Brodsky’s wife, “ha-Tzkaniyot ha-Meforsemet, Haya.”  Dov Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim Volozhin (Jerusalem, Machon Moreshet Ashkenaz, 2011) (second revised edition), 600-01.  (Thanks to Eliezer Brodt for calling this source to my attention).  The manuscript recording the conditions of Brodsky’s gift is currently in the possession of R. Meshulam Dovid Soloveitchik and portions are reproduced by Eliach.  See id. 601,634-35.

[9] The Land Bank was created in 1877. Michael H. Hamm, Kiev: A Portrait, 1800-1917 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 10-11. The influence of the Brodskys was such that six members of the family were on the board of an earlier established bank, the Kiev Industrial Bank, (1871). This led some to remark that the bank should be referred to as the “Brodsky Family Bank.” Meyer, Kiev, 40. It is unclear if Israel also sat on the Land Bank board or was just an investor.

[10] Meyer, Kiev, 71.

[11] Meyer, Kiev, 40.

[12] Meyer, Kiev, 171-72. For a discussion of Vilna’s Choral Synagogue and its influence on Vilna’s maskilim see Mordechai Zalkin, “The Synagogue as Social Arena:  The Maskilic Synagogue Taharat ha-Kodesh in Vilna,” (Hebrew), in Yashan me-Peni Hadash: Shai le-Emmanuel Etkes, vol. 2, 385-403; see also D. Rabinowitz, “Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven:  The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition,” Seforimblog, Sept. 18, 2018.

[13] While today, these practices are unremarkable; at that time, there were some who opposed these changes. See generally Moshe Samet, Ha-Hadah Asur min ha-Torah: Perakim be-Toldot ha-Orthodoxiah (Jerusalem: Karmel, 2005). For an earlier discussion of the propriety of choirs and incorporating music in Jewish religious practices see R. Leon Modena, She’lot ve-Teshuvot Ziknei Yehuda, Shlomo Simonson ed. (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1957, 15-20.

[14] Sergey Yulievich Vitte, Childhood During the Reigns of Alexander II and Alexander III (Russian) at 160.

[15] Dov Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim mi-Volozhin (Jerusalem: Machon Moreshet HaYeshivot, 1991), 269. This photograph remains in Eliach’s second and updated version of Avi ha-Yeshivot printed in 2011.  See Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim me-Volozhin (Jerusalem: Machon HaYeshivot, 2011), 292.  Although there are two changes in this version.  First, the “well-known philanthropist” becomes a “Rebi” and conveniently the top of the Rebi’s head is cut off so that one can’t tell if the Rebi is wearing a yarmulke.

[16] Menahem Mendel Flato, Besheveli Radin… ([Petach Tikvah]:  Machon beSheveli haYeshivos, 2001), 31; Marc Shapiro, Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History (Oxford: Littman Library, 2015), 136. Flato combines both of Eliach’s honorifics into “the philanthropist Rebi Yisrael Brodsky.”

[17] See Dan Rabinowitz, “Yarlmuke: A Historic Coverup?,” Hakirah vol. 4 (2007), 229-38.

[18] For examples see Shapiro, Changing the Immutable.

[19] Another Haredi history of Volozhin published the same year as Beshvili Radin also includes the unaltered photograph.  Tanhum Frank, Toledot Beit HaShem be-Volozhin (Jerusalem, 2001), 254.

[20] Yahadut Lita vol. 1 (Tel Aviv: 1960), 507; Eliezer Leone, Volozhin: Sefrah shel ha-Ir ve-shel Yeshivat Ets Hayim (Tel Aviv: Naot, 1970), 121. Despite the attribution to the Russian Jewish Archive there is no other information regarding this archive.

[21] Yahadut Lita, 507. Regarding Nes Tsiona see Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 170-72

[22] Leone, Volozhin, 121.

[23] Another Haredi history of Volozhin also uses the same photograph but crops out all but just Epstein. See Frank, Toledot, 256. But in that instance the photo is used as part of a collage of rabbinic figures and explains why the other people are missing.

[24] Stampfer, Lithuanain Yeshivas, 43, 206-07, (secular studies), 167-178 (societies), Abba Bolsher, “Yeshivas Volozhin be-Tukufat Bialik,” in Yeshivas Lita: Perkei Zikronot, eds. Emmanuel Etkes and Shlomo Tikochinski (Jerusalem:  Zalman Shazer Center, 2004, Menahem Mendel Zlotkin, “Yeshivas Volozhin be-Tekufat Bialik,” in Etkes, Perkei, 182-92 (histories of Volozhin’s perhaps most well-known black sheep during his time there).