R. Hayyim Soloveitchik’s Attitude Towards Girsaot

A Response to Dr. Marc Shapiro

Elisha Friedman

R. Hayyim Soloveitchik earned his towering stature in Jewish intellectual history for his revolutionary methodology of Talmudic analysis, but scholars have also noted another aspect of his insights, which is a disinterest, bordering on disregard, for textual veracity. In general, traditional Talmudists were not overly concerned with bibliographic issues and girsaot (textual variants), but even within this tradition R. Hayyim stands out as extreme. One of the most glaring, and by extension often quoted, examples of R. Hayyim using a faulty text is his analysis of the passage in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Nizkei Mamon 4:4.

In a recent post, Dr. Marc Shapiro responded to my objection to this example. Dr. Shapiro’s clarification was helpful in elaborating on the proof from Nizkei Mamon, as well as documenting a number of scholars who have used it. The basic outlook of this school is that R. Hayyim is entirely removed from girsah considerations. In this post I will articulate an alternative approach to this issue, arguing that R. Hayyim does take girsah factors into consideration. In section one, I sketch Shapiro’s perspective (in my understanding) and the proof from Nizkei Mamon. In section two, I present an alternative reading. In section three, I conclude with some broader reflections on R. Hayyim’s attitude towards girsaot.

1. R. Hayyim’s Aversion to Girsaot

Traditional Talmudists, with some notable exceptions, generally ignored issues of girsah, preferring to focus on the content and logical flow of classical texts. In many ways this is the defining hallmark of traditional Talmudic scholarship, as opposed to other methods of study which concentrate on textual issues. One of the notable exceptions to this overall trend was Vilna Gaon. As an example, the mishna towards the end of tractate Avot (5:20) reads,

יהודה בן תימא אומר, הוי עז כנמר, וקל כנשר, ורץ כצבי, וגבור כארי, לעשות רצון אביך שבשמים. הוא היה אומר, עז פנים לגיהנם, ובשת פנים לגן עדן. יהי רצון מלפניך יי אלהינו שתבנה עירך במהרה בימינו ותן חלקנו בתורתך.

Yehuda ben Tema said: Be strong as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, and brave as a lion, to do the will of your Father in Heaven. He would say: the brazen-faced [is destined] to Gehinom; the shame-faced to Gan Eden. May it be Your will, O Lord our God, that Your city be rebuilt speedily in our days and set our portion in the study of Your Torah

After two statements reflecting on the proper role of aggression in religious life, the mishna suddenly includes an out-of-place prayer for the rebuilding of Jerusalem. It seems clear there is a textual problem with this mishna, and surveying how traditional commentators approached it is illustrative.

Vilna Gaon offered an obvious textual emendation – that this prayer was erroneously copied here, but properly belongs four mishnayot later at the end of the tractate.[1] Meiri offers another textual solution, that originally this mishna was the conclusion of the tractate, so it ended with a prayer, and then subsequently additional statements were added on, but the prayer remained where it had been originally.[2]

Yet the majority of commentators, including Rambam, Bartenura and Tiferet Yisrael, avoid a textual solution. Some suggest a homiletical reason for the insertion of this prayer, based on the notion that God blessed the Jewish people with a lack of aggression. R. Akiva Eger in his commentary cites an interpretation from Radach (R. Dovid Hacohen of Corfu), who explains that since this mishna discusses the proper religious uses of aggression, therefore the mishna prays for the messianic times when we will no longer require any aggression.

This example illustrates the general reluctance of traditional commentators, with some exceptions such as Vilna Gaon, to resolve questions through textual solutions. It also points towards a possible reason for this: avoiding textual solutions generates greater religious and homiletical creativity. Since, in this instance, commentators avoided the textual solution, they were enabled to formulate homiletical insights.

There is no question that R. Hayyim Soloveitchik reflects this traditional hesitancy regarding textual solutions. When R. Hayyim confronts a difficulty, he prefers a conceptual answer over a textual resolution, even when the latter seems evidently correct. As an example, in Hilkhot Hametz u’Matzah 1:3, Rambam ruled that one who did not burn his hametz before Passover does not receive the punishment of lashes because it is a passive violation not active, “for he did not perform a deed” (מפני שלא עשה מעשה). R. Hayyim asks that this statement contradicts the Talmudic rationale exempting lashes (Pesachim 95a), which is that this is a prohibition which is attached to a positive mitzvah to destroy the hametz (לאו הניתק לעשה).

This question is problematic, since there is a seemingly obvious textual answer, namely, that Rambam had a well-attested variant girsah of that Talmudic passage, which omits the entire לאו הניתק לעשה rationale. In fact, in the standard Vilna Shas, this line appears in parentheses to indicate the alternative girsah! Yet instead of offering this obvious girsah solution, R. Hayyim prefers to develop his conceptual insight, which illustrates his general aversion to girsah answers.[3]

When studying R. Hayyim’s insights one can intuit that his avoidance of girsaot goes further than other leading Talmudists, his relentless focus on conceptual analysis seemingly leaves no room for girsaot (or other) concerns. But it can be difficult to express this insight in more precise language. It is particularly challenging because we have no programmatic statement from R. Hayyim as to his outlook on textual issues, as such scholars must try to recreate his attitude from his hiddushim.[4]

There is a scholarly formulation of this which contends that R. Hayyim avoids girsaot to the extent that he is even willing to cite and analyze faulty texts which were retracted by their very own authors. The explanation for this is that when it comes to religious texts R. Hayyim maintains an extreme theory of textual autonomy, that religious texts transcend the author who wrote it. I will cite Shapiro’s formulation of this idea,

On occasion, [traditionalists] even ignored the explanations Maimonides himself later gave for his halakhot… A different justification, with a more modern appeal, is quoted in the name of R. Naphtali Zvi Judah Berlin: “All the works of our teachers, the rishonim, until the era of Pnei Yehoshua, were written with ruah ha-kodesh, and obviously Maimonides’ Code is in this category. What Maimonides wrote in a responsum is Maimonides’ explanation of what he wrote in his Code, but there is still room for other explanations, for there are 70 facets to the Torah.” In fact, even after Maimonides wrote to the sages of Lunel – who had asked about a difficulty in the Mishneh Torah (Nizkei Mamon 4:4) – informing them that their text of this halakhah was mistaken, we still find R. Hayyim Soloveitchik and others offering analyses of the mistaken text!
Marc Shapiro, Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, (University of Scranton, 2008), 54-5.

The primary evidence for this formulation derives from R. Hayyim’s comments in Hilkhot Nizkei Mamon, to which we proceed now. The printed editions of Mishneh Torah read,

When a person entrusts his animal to an unpaid watchman, a paid watchman, a renter or a borrower, these individuals assume the owner’s responsibilities. If the animal causes damages, the watchman is held liable. When does the above apply? When they did not guard the animal at all. If, however, they guarded the animal in an excellent manner, as they should, and it got loose and caused damage, the watchmen are not liable, and the owners are liable.

This was a problematic halakha because if the watchmen guarded it excellently no one should be liable. Rambam himself was asked this question as part of a series of questions posed to him on Mishneh Torah by the sages of Lunel. Rambam responded explicitly that this version was an error and instead it should read that the owners are liable in a case of inferior protection,

If, however, they guarded the animal in an excellent manner, as they should, and it got loose and caused damage, the watchmen are not liable. If the watchmen guarded the animal in an inferior manner, they are not liable if they are unpaid. Instead, the owners are liable, even if the animal kills a person. The watchman is liable if he is paid, a renter, or a borrower.

Rambam’s response was cited in Kesef Mishnah, which is printed on the side of the standard editions of Mishneh Torah, such that no reader could miss this retraction. Yet, R. Hayyim wrote two lengthy pieces on Nizkei Mamon, and in both he analyzes this passage using the erroneous text, without ever noting Rambam’s own emendation! This seems to be clear evidence that R. Hayyim disregards textual emendation, even when the text in question is clearly mistaken.

In his recent post Shapiro documents a scholarly consensus which has coalesced around this reading, including rabbis Eliyahu Soloveitchik, Yehoshua Inbal, Norman Solomon and most prominently, Baruch Shmuel Deutsch. This reading of R. Hayyim has widespread support because it is so striking that he is knowingly using a faulty text in his lengthy analysis of this topic. In fact, when I explained this essay in May 2023 as part of a series explaining Hiddushe Rabbenu Hayyim Halevi, I enthusiastically made the same point, influenced by the earlier scholarship, which you can hear at the beginning here.

But after processing the piece, I came to believe that a more careful reading of R. Hayyim shows that in fact he deftly avoids ascribing ideas to Rambam based on the faulty text, in recognition of Rambam’s own emendation. I then found that this view had already been exhaustively presented in 2007 by R. Avraham Lipschitz.[6] In the following section I will present Lipschitz’s approach, that R. Hayyim does not dismiss Rambam’s own emendation of his text, and more broadly that R. Hayyim is not as impervious to textual matters as the prevailing scholarship would indicate.

1. Re-Reading R. Hayyim

Twice in his comments, R. Hayyim refers to the erroneous version. First, in the opening paragraph in Nizkei Mamon 4:4, where R. Hayyim sets up the piece. In order to explain why R. Hayyim is not in fact basing his insights on the faulty text, let me sketch the broad purpose of this piece. The conceptual insight at the heart of this piece is the idea that when an animal damages something, while being watched by a watchman, the watchman’s financial liability is inherent to his responsibilities as a watchman, and not derivative from the owner’s liability.[7] In R. Hayyim’s framework, the paradigmatic case for this is when the damaging animal was a tam (new damager). When a tam damages, as opposed to a mu’ad (habitual damager), the owner does not pay from their own estate, only from the value of the animal itself. This creates a litmus test for R. Hayyim to explore the watchman’s liability, since there is no financial restitution outside the animal itself.

If we now work backwards to the opening paragraph, we can see that this insight is not dependent on the faulty girsah. In order for the piece to work R. Hayyim needs to establish two things: first, that this halakha is referring to a tam, as Maggid Mishneh in his commentary suggests, second, he needs to introduce the issue of a watchman’s liability, which Raavad in his glosses touches on. Now both Raavad and Maggid Mishneh had the faulty version of Mishneh Torah, so it seems reasonable that when presenting their approaches R. Hayyim sticks with the faulty version, which is a historically accurate reflection of these two commentators.

But as R. Hayyim progresses to his own analysis of this issue, it is no longer relevant which version of Mishneh Torah one uses. In both versions – the mistaken one and the corrected one – Rambam is discussing a tam, and rules that in some cases the owner is liable, while in others the watchman is. The juxtaposition of these two rulings sets up the premise of R. Hayyim’s piece, and it makes no difference whether owners are liable for excellent protection (erroneous version) or inferior protection (corrected version). Rambam’s girsah is incidental to R. Hayyim’s discussion, and as such this piece does not provide evidence for R. Hayyim’s attitude towards girsaot.

Let us move on to the second instance where R. Hayyim analyzes Rambam’s problematic text, in Nizkei Mamon 4:11. This is a much stronger proof than the first instance, since in this piece R. Hayyim cites the erroneous version to prove the point that Rambam sees the owner’s and watchman’s liability as mutually exclusive. R. Hayyim deduces this from the erroneous text, which states the watchman is exempt and the owner is liable, indicating that it is an either-or issue, i.e. only one party will be liable in any given case. He then proceeds to explain the faulty text further, and he does all this without acknowledging Rambam’s own retraction.

From this passage then we do seem to have proof for the extreme formulation of R. Hayyim’s approach to textual autonomy, and Hazon Ish in his glosses (as Shapiro notes in his post) certainly understands it this way. But I would note two counter points. First, Lipschitz counters that R. Hayyim is still not really relying on a faulty text, since his overall discussion is not dependent on this point. The conceptual idea in this piece is whether in a case where the first watchman gave the animal over to a second watchman, the first watchman is entirely removed from the situation, or even though he’s exempt he remains a relevant party. As part of this discussion, R. Hayyim is attempting to explain the related issue of the owner’s role in the situation, which brings him to the faulty text. But even without this digression, the overall piece can stand on its own. According to Lipschitz, this minimizes the implication of R. Hayyim using the faulty text.[8]

Second, I would add that if you follow the contours of R. Hayyim’s discussion, this step is deep into a discussion of Raavad’s glosses. One could argue that in this step he is explaining the debate from the viewpoint of Raavad, who never knew about Rambam’s retraction and had to try and make consistent sense of Rambam’s rulings. Although R. Hayyim does ascribe these ideas to Rambam, it is really Raavad’s strawman version of Rambam. Put differently, had the faulty text not been used by Raavad, R. Hayyim would not defend it.

Lipschitz’s approach (slightly) modifies the prevailing scholarly view that R. Hayyim is entirely impervious to textual emendations.[9] While it is clear that R. Hayyim is largely dismissive of textual issues, even he has his red lines, such as using a faulty text which the author himself corrected. Though, I will note, the broader difficulty of formulating precisely R. Hayyim’s attitude towards girsaot remains.

1. R. Hayyim’s Attitude Towards Texts

We have explored the debate between Shapiro and Lipschitz, over the extent of R. Hayyim’s disregard for girsaot, namely, whether he would build a hiddush on a retracted girsah. In this conclusion I reflect on the religious motivation for R. Hayyim’s cavalier attitude towards girsaot.

It is important to clarify that R. Hayyim’s opposition to emendations is not rooted in a reverence for the printed text, but rather in a reverence for texts which were used by Torah giants. In other words, if a mistaken girsah can be attributed to a Torah giant, R. Hayyim considers it valid, but if it has no traditional support amongst Torah sages, it is invalidated. For example, if someone were to discover an unknown girsah in the Cairo geniza, it would have little relevance for R. Hayyim. Likewise, a printed version, which was not endorsed by Torah giants, does not have standing in R. Hayyim’s outlook.

For this reason, R. Hayyim is willing to change the girsah at the end of his essay on Hilkhot Edut 21:9, because as he notes none of the commentators on Rambam are bothered by this question (אשר כן משמע מזה שלא העירו בזה המפרשים כלל), which seemingly indicates they had a different girsah. Since no leading Torah scholar can be said to endorse the printed version, R. Hayyim does not need to defend it.

But R. Hayyim is not entirely consistent in this approach, and in another parallel case he does not apply this logic. In Hilkhot Korban Pesah 6:2, Rambam rules that one who slaughters the Korban Pesah for the correct group, but intends to sprinkle the blood for the wrong group, the sacrifice is valid but this group does not fulfill their Pesah obligation. Not only does this ruling seem logically inconsistent – if it is a valid offering why does the group not fulfill their Pesah obligation? – it also seems to blatantly contradict the explicit Talmudic ruling that the group does fulfill their obligation. R. Hayyim’s opening paragraph suggests all sorts of girsah based solutions, except the most obvious one: that there is a misprint in Mishneh Torah.

Here too, the misprint theory could be supported by the fact that none of the classical commentators on Rambam address this question, indicating they had a corrected version. In fact, in a letter critiquing R. Hayyim’s approach, R. Chaim Mordechai Roller, cites this exact consideration as proof that it must be a misprint in Mishneh Torah, since none of the classical commentators raise the question.[10] R. Hayyim’s refusal to accept this girsah change seems to contradict his own logic in Hilkhot Edut.

Be that as it may, R. Hayyim’s attitude seems to be that we must defend any version of a text which was used by Torah giants. Presumably, and this is my own words, it is hard to accept that Torah giants use nonsensical texts, such that any problematic girsah they used must have a good explanation. There may be an additional element of Divine Providence, that we must assume God would not allow Torah giants to get tripped up by worthless texts, so there must be a profound meaning to explain it.

* * * * * *

Notes

[1] Vilna Gaon in his commentary to Avot (on mishna 20 and mishna 24):

טעות סופר כאן, וצריך לומר בסוף הפרק, כמו שכתבתי למטה

[2] This is one option Meiri proposes (in his commentary to mishna 20):

או אפשר שיהיה זה סיום המסכת אלא שנתוספו בה אח”כ דברים אחרים

See also R. Shmuel de Uceda’s related discussion in Midrash Shmuel (end of mishna 21 and beginning of mishna 22), and Tosafot Yom Tov (beginning of mishna 21), about the order of these ending mishnayot. Chanoch Albeck in his edition of the Mishna (Mossad Bialik, 1952) endorses Meiri’s suggestion.

[3] Elsewhere I have documented the nuances of R. Hayyim’s attitude towards girsaot in further detail, see כללי הגר”ח מבריסק בביאור הרמב”ם – ספריית אסיף, pp. 388-92.

[4] Avraham Lipschitz, “יחסם של אחרונים לתגליות נוסח”, סיני, גליון קמא, תשס”ח, עמ’ קג

suggests a possible formulation, pointing to one instance (which will be discussed below) where other traditional commentators explain Rambam’s faulty girsah, but at least pay homage to the girsah issue and note the corrected version, whereas R. Hayyim’s omission of any acknowledgement of the whole issue is more extreme:

לכאורה לפנינו מקרה ראשון של התעלמות גורפת מהמישור הפילולוגי ללא כל צורך בהצדקתה

[5] Marc Shapiro, Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, (University of Scranton, 2008), 54-5.

[6] Avraham Lipschitz,

“יחסם של אחרונים לתגליות נוסח”, סיני, גליון קמא, תשס”ח, עמ’ פא-קו

which takes this halakha in Mishneh Torah as a test case for traditionalist attitudes towards girsaot. Lipschitz’s son, R. Uri Lipschitz, is a Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshivat Siach Yitzchak, founded by Rav Shagar.

[7] See R. Baruch Ber Lebowitz’s formulation of this in Birkat Shmuel, Bava Kamma, #7 & 8

[8] Ibid, pp. 103-4.

[9] Lipschitz sums up his conclusion (p. 103):

קיצור הדברים, טענתי היא שאין לגר”ח התנגדות עקרונית להשתמש בנוסחים חדשים, וודאי לא כאלה המוזכרים בכסף משנה, אלא שהקו המנחה אותו הוא הרעיון המרכזי אותו הוא בא לחדש, או הקושי המרכזי בו הוא עוסק

[10] Teshuvot Be’er Chaim Mordechai (3:12).

Breaching the Walls of History

By Dan Rabinowitz

This essay first appeared in the Jewish Review of Books (Spring 2026) and is republished here. Its postscript appeared in the magazine’s Substack newsletter, which you can subscribe to here.

Last December, on the eighth day of Hanukkah, the American haredi newspaper of record Yated Ne’eman published a long, impassioned article titled “Ufortzu Chomos Migdolai Vetimu Kol Hashmanim,” by Rabbi Michoel Sorotzkin. The Hebrew title is from the fifth stanza of the famous Hanukkah standard Maoz tzur, which many of us never get to: “They breached the walls of my towers and defiled all the oils.” That is to say, the Greeks (and their Hellenized Jewish allies) broke through the defenses of the holy Temple in Jerusalem, leaving, seemingly, all its oils polluted and unusable. One might have expected that such a headline would announce a discussion of, say, the closure of haredi yeshiva day schools in New York City, or the Israeli government’s attempts to draft haredim into the military, or, perhaps, the rampant antisemitism threatening European Jewry.

But Sorotzkin’s article addressed none of these very real challenges to haredi life. The breach he identified, the defilement requiring an elaborate polemic couched in apocalyptic language, was a brief mention I had made of the Brisker Rov’s visit to a library in Vilna, in an article I published in these pages last summer (“Golden Ledgers,” Summer 2025, and republished on the Seforim blog).

The Strashun Library of Vilna was the first Jewish public library; it admitted both male and female patrons and included secular as well as religious books (sifrei kodesh). The historical question at issue itself is trivial—in fact it isn’t really a question. Rabbi Yitzhak Ze’ev Soloveitchik, who was commonly known as Reb Velvel or the Brisker Rov, visited the Strashun Library with at least one, but almost certainly two, of his sons on October 1, 1940, and they checked out the books to read in its famous reading room that the library ledger lists them as checking out.

This is demonstrable beyond any remotely reasonable historical doubt. The interesting question is: Why was it so important to Sorotzkin, a prominent member of the haredi world, to tie himself up in speculative knots denying it not once but twice in one of that world’s leading newspapers? Before answering that question, I should explain how I came to write an article that breached the walls and defiled the oils, when what I was trying to do (if you’ll allow me to mix biblical metaphors) was pluck a brand from the fire.

I go to Vilna at least three times a year. Sometimes I stay at a hotel at the epicenter of the three main streets that formed the Jewish district; other times I stay near German Street where Mattityahu Strashun once lived. My mornings begin with a thirty-minute walk to Lithuania’s National Library. The route passes through streets that once hummed with Yiddish, past buildings that housed yeshivas and Jewish publishers, through spaces that sustained centuries of Jewish intellectual life before the Nazis destroyed it. My afternoons are spent walking those streets comparing what I’ve found in the archives against what I expected to find, evenings reviewing notes and planning the next day’s research. What I’m trying to do is reconstruct the ordinary moments that illuminate the extraordinary history of Jewish Vilna.

During these walks, I often run into tour groups gathered at one of the few plaques marking the place of Jews in the city’s history. Usually, it’s the plaque noting the line of demarcation where the Nazis established the Vilna Ghetto. This is the tours’ inevitable focus: the annihilation of the Jews. What preceded the destruction—the institutions of learning and publishing, the literary circles and research institutes, the daily life that made Vilna the “Jerusalem of Lithuania”—receives far less attention. There used to be a sign marking where the Great Synagogue complex, the architectural and spiritual center of Jewish Vilna for centuries, stood. That sign is gone now. What remains are markers of death and destruction; all the complexity of Jewish intellectual life before World War II gets compressed into a prelude to catastrophe.

Those of us who study prewar Jewish culture are trying, each in our own way, to reconstruct and understand the life that preceded the catastrophe. That’s how I came to write a book on the Strashun Library several years ago. It’s why I continue to research its workings and the vibrant world of which it and its patrons, including great rabbinic leaders like Yitzhak Ze’ev Soloveitchik and ordinary Jewish readers, were a part.

The Strashun Library opened in 1902 as the first Jewish public library, built from Mattityahu Strashun’s private collection of rare books and manuscripts. From its opening, it became central to Vilna’s intellectual ecosystem. Its reading rooms welcomed everyone: rabbis and historians, secular scholars and traditional students, men and women, those seeking Yiddish literature and those researching Jewish law. By the time it was shuttered in 1940, it held roughly fifty thousand volumes and served a public that spanned the full spectrum of Jewish life.

When I discovered the library’s checkout ledgers in the National Library of Lithuania archives in 2024, I realized that their spare entries allowed us to reconstruct the day-to-day life of the library: who used it, which books they read, and how it served different strata of Jewish society.

As the first step in a project to digitize and make the ledgers publicly available to other researchers, I spent four very full days scanning thousands of pages, each holding about fifty handwritten entries. As I worked, I browsed the names and tried to quickly register patterns in the data. One of the names that jumped out at me was “Yitzchok Soloveitchik,” who requested a collection of I. L. Peretz’s Hasidic stories, Khasidish. Could this be Rabbi Yitzhak Ze’ev Soloveitchik, the son of Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik, who founded the famous Brisker approach to talmudic study?

Yitzhak Ze’ev inherited and extended his father’s analytic method and later became one of the most uncompromising voices in Israeli haredi leadership, where he was known as the Brisker Rov. I knew that he and his family had been in Vilna at the time, because I’d found him listed among prominent rabbis in Vaad ha-yeshivos refugee housing records that show, yeshiva by yeshiva, where students, teachers, and refugees were staying. Nonetheless, it could have been another Yitzchok Soloveitchik. Then I looked more carefully at the same ledger page and saw another entry: a Raphael Soloveitchik had requested Maimonides’s Iggeret ha-shemad just a few lines above Yitzchok’s request for Peretz. Now it was clear. The Brisker Rov had a son named Raphael, and although Peretz’s short stories was a surprising choice for his father, the choice of Maimonides’s famous letter on persecution by the scion of a family fleeing persecution and famously devoted to Maimonides made perfect sense.

In short, the ledger documented that the Soloveitchiks had used the library just weeks before the Soviets would permanently close it, which is what I wrote, in passing, in my article. All that I thought I had documented in doing so was that the library served the rabbinic elite alongside ordinary Jews of all kinds, who were reading everything from talmudic commentaries to Yiddish translations of Tolstoy. But merely documenting a prewar Jewish world that was different than is generally imagined in haredi publications like Yated turned out to be an act of desecration.

Rabbi Sorotzkin’s first attack began by quoting the offending lines—or part of them at any rate—from my article: “On the afternoon of October 1, 1940, Reb Velvel came to the Strashun Library with his teenage son . . . His father’s reading for the day was more surprising: I. L. Peretz’s short stories about Hasidim.” (Sorotzkin’s ellipses will turn out to be doing a lot of work here.)

“With this passage,” Sorotzkin wrote, “Mr. Dan Rabinowitz does more than recount an archival curiosity. He stages a tableau.” He went on:

The Brisker Rov, Rav Yitzchok Zev Soloveitchik, appears before us not as generations of talmidim knew him, but as a character in a modern morality play: seated calmly in the Strashun Library of Vilna, immersed in the ironic fiction of I. L. Peretz, surrounded by secular readers, students, men and women alike.

The effect is unmistakable. The reader is invited to marvel at the distance between the “real” man and the image preserved by Torah memory. Hagiography, we are told implicitly, has concealed a richer, more complex inner life—one now revealed by the cold honesty of a library ledger.

It is an elegant narrative. It is also an edifice built on sand. What we encounter here is not historical reconstruction, but a breach—peritzas geder—in the most basic disciplines of historical inference. And once the wall is breached, all the oil may be rendered impure.

Beyond the rhetoric of righteous indignation, Sorotzkin’s argument was simple: The Brisker Rov would never have entered a “mixed, open, modern” library because his “entire being recoiled from even the faintest rei’ach [whiff] of ideological modernity.” Therefore, someone else named Yitzchok Soloveitchik must have. And here Sorotzkin had a candidate:

The Vilna region was saturated with Soloveitchiks. . . . Among them appears a Yitzchok Soloveitchik, a timber merchant, a vald-socher [from Švenčionys]—precisely the kind of educated townsman who would frequent the Strashun Library and read Peretz.

There are just three problems with this line of argument—actually there are more than that, but let’s restrict ourselves to three for the moment:

a. The same ledgers that documented the visit of a “Yitzchok Soloveitchik” also recorded several visits by Rav Pinchas Hirschprung, who would later serve as chief rabbi of Montreal. Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, the preeminent Torah authority in Vilna, held special borrowing privileges at the library, and Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan, the renowned Chafetz Chaim, visited and signed the library’s VIP “Golden Book.” If such colleagues could visit the library, can Sorotzkin really be so certain that the Brisker Rov’s “entire being” would have prevented him from doing so?

b. Švenčionys is over eighty kilometers from Vilna, and we have no evidence this timber merchant traveled to Vilna in October 1940. Not to speak of the fact that neither Rabbi Sorotzkin nor I know anything about the reading habits of Jewish timber merchants in the area.

c. The ledger records two Soloveitchiks visiting the library on October 1, 1940. Are we to suppose that this other Yitzchok Soloveitchik also had a son named Raphael, who was also a deep Maimonidean?

This last problem—call it the “Zvei Soloveitchiks problem”—returns us to Rabbi Sorotzkin’s creative use of ellipses. When he quoted my offending lines about Reb Velvel, he elided Raphael—whom I mentioned in those sentences—right out of the picture and never acknowledged that he appeared in the ledger a few lines above his father.

Actually, unlike Sorotzkin’s conjectural Peretz-reading ironist timber merchant, the Brisker Rov had good reason to visit the Strashun Library. He was in the midst of a life-and-death halakhic controversy with his colleague Rav Aharon Kotler about whether refugees should try to flee to Eretz Yisrael or America. To support his position that they should not go to America because of the spiritual danger, the Brisker Rov turned to a passage he remembered from Maimonides’s Iggeret ha-shemad, which he wanted to quote verbatim.

Soloveitchik family memory confirms this. In a footnote to Shiurei Rabbeinu Meir ha-Levi, a collection of the Brisker Rov’s son, he is quoted as saying:

I recall that during the war years, Maran [the Brisker Rov] sought a copy of the letters from the Rambam, because he wanted to study Iggeret he-shemad, in which the Rambam has a lengthy discussion to explain the fundamental idea that a person acclimates to his surroundings and it is prohibited to live in a place which doesn’t allow one to fulfill the mitzvot properly. . . . Initially, however, he was unable to find a copy, and, in the end, he located one in the Strashun Library in Vilna. According to the library’s rules, one was not permitted to remove books from the building. And therefore his son R. Chaim copied it word for word for him.

The library ledger records Raphael as the borrower of Iggeret ha-shemad while the family testimony remembers Chaim as the copyist. Perhaps both brothers participated, or Raphael handled the checkout while Chaim copied the passage. Or perhaps the family misremembered which brother accompanied his father to the library. At any rate, there were at least two, and quite possibly three, Soloveitchiks at the Strashun Library on that day. And they were there precisely because the Brisker Rov took his obligations as a halakhic scholar and leader of Torah Jewry so seriously.

When I wrote to Yated Ne’eman to explain all this, the editors—to their credit—published my letter, but they did so alongside a reply from the unflappable Rabbi Sorotzkin. Sorotzkin not only blithely failed to acknowledge his errors of omission and commission but went on to a new and truly gobsmacking theory, titling his response “Veha’emes Vehashalom Ehavu” (Love truth and peace).

The entry for a “Yitzchok Soloveitchik” must, he now admits, refer to one of the famous Soloveitchiks rather than a random timber merchant from Švenčionys. Still, it couldn’t possibly be the Brisker Rov. So, who was it? Here I must quote Rabbi Sorotzkin at length to convey just how far he is willing to go to save Reb Velvel from having gone to a public library:

The presence of a ledger entry bearing the name “Yitzchok Soloveitchik” is taken to indicate the Brisker Rov himself, seated in the reading hall and borrowing secular literature. Yet there exists a far more coherent and internally consistent explanation, one that aligns with the testimony, the ledger itself, the halachic framework governing names and conduct, and the lived reality of the Brisker household.

According to this reading, it was the Brisker Rov’s son, Rav Chaim who entered the Strashun Library as the responsible emissary. Anyone familiar with the family dynamic knows that his keen intelligence, composure, and practical capability marked him as the natural choice for such a mission. His younger brother, Rav Rafael, accompanied him and formally requested the Iggeres HaShemad, which then had to be copied in full—a task of approximately 3,500 words, requiring a prolonged stay. Such an extended presence in a public institution would naturally invite scrutiny. To avoid unnecessary attention, it would have been prudent, even expected, to request an additional book, a routine borrowing that raised no eyebrows and normalized the time spent at the table.

Here the ledger entries themselves become illuminating rather than sensational. Immediately preceding the Soloveitchik entry, two patrons are recorded borrowing works by I. L. Peretz. . . . When Rav Chaim was offered titles by the same author, the specific work recorded — Chassidish — was accepted not as an ideological choice but as a convenient placeholder, a book taken to cover the duration required for copying the Iggeres. . . .

The use of the name “Yitzchok” in the ledger is likewise neither mysterious nor incriminating. Rav Chaim could not identify himself by his own well-known name without drawing attention, particularly given that the sefer of his grandfather, Rabbeinu Chaim Halevi, was already catalogued in that very library. Nor could he identify himself by his father’s full name. Halacha is explicit that one may not refer to one’s father by name, even after death, without alteration. . . . The use of the shortened form “Yitzchok” . . . would have satisfied both the halachic requirement and the practical need for discretion, without uttering an outright falsehood.

It is difficult to imagine anyone believing that a scholarly household in the midst of the “lived reality” of a desperate flight to safety from both the Soviets and the Nazis would strategize over the impossible “mission” of going to a library frequented by other pious Jews to copy a passage from Maimonides. And further, to think that they needed an elaborate cover story involving false names and phony book checkouts so that the Jewish librarians did not penetrate their cover (and what?—inform Rav Kotler about the killer prooftext from Maimonides?). The tradition has a term for such groundless theorizing, pilpul shel hevel, and it is a hallmark of the Brisker tradition to oppose it.

Sorotzkin closes his response on an extraordinary—and, one presumes, unconscious—note of chutzpah. “When suggestive narratives arise from thin evidentiary reeds,” he writes, “methodological restraint becomes not a courtesy but an obligation.” But perhaps I am being unfair, as George Orwell once remarked, “We are all capable of believing things which we know to be untrue, and then, when we are finally proved wrong, impudently twisting the facts so as to show that we were right.”

Sorotzkin’s initial response characterized my work as “peritzas geder,” a breach of protective walls. But what did he think needed to be protected? Not the Brisker Rov’s actual stature or commitment. That he wanted to verify the exact wording of Maimonides’s Iggeret ha-shemad from the richest collection of sifrei kodesh in Eastern Europe to guide his thinking on the refugee crisis illuminates the rigor of his approach to unprecedented questions. What Sorotzkin needed to protect was rather a nostalgic fantasy: one in which the great sages (gedolim) of that generation never entered mixed public spaces, relied on secular institutions, or read fiction. But the infrastructure of Jewish life in places like Vilna was not neatly divided into “Torah” and “secular” categories, and gedolim and their students checked out books from the Strashun Library alongside maskilim, socialists, and ordinary Jews looking for something to read.

I go back to Vilna regularly to identify, amid the destruction and absence, what can be found to resurrect, contextualize, and enrich our understanding of the astounding Jewish culture of prewar Vilna. The Jews of this city—rabbis and students, traditionalists and modernists, Hebraists and Yiddishists—created institutions, filled libraries, published journals, founded schools and research institutes, and argued about everything.

The Brisker Rov spent an afternoon in the Strashun Library in October 1940 with his sons to obtain a text he desperately needed. While his sons diligently copied Maimonides’s text, he requested Peretz’s collection of Hasidic stories. I don’t know why and, of course, it doesn’t matter—only Sorotzkin and his more credulous readers would think that it does. But there is a plausible answer. It turns out that among Peretz’s Hasidic tales is the story “Between Two Mountains,” in which a fiercely strict and intellectual rosh yeshiva called “the Brisker Rov” is taught a lesson in humanism by a former student who has become a Hasidic rebbe. Might not the Brisker Rov have been simply curious to read about his fictional counterpart?

The Holocaust destroyed the Strashun Library and most of the Jewish world of which it was a part. The Soviets shuttered its reading room; the Nazis looted its collections; after the war, the building was destroyed. Yet, the few surviving Strashun Library ledgers reveal precious little moments in the lost history of Jewish intellectual life in Vilna. The final volume documents the last gasp of Eastern European Jewry, not only the local Jewish inhabitants but also the thousands of refugees like the Soloveitchiks who, fleeing Hitler and Stalin, briefly sought safety in Vilna.

It seems to me that what we, their descendants, owe them is to see their lives, at least in glimpses, as they were, even if it is through the entries of a humble library ledger. That is a history worth recovering, even when—especially when—it complicates what we thought we knew. Such complication is not desecration; on the contrary, it honors their memories.

Postscript

After writing this response to Rabbi Sorotzkin’s pilpul shel hagiografia, I continued to return to the 1940 ledger, which hasn’t been digitized yet. As I described above, Sorotzkin’s new, and equally implausible, claim was that Chaim Soloveitchik used his father’s name rather than his own, to avoid the commotion of being recognized as the grandson and namesake of the author of one of the library’s own seforim, and to escape the notice of the authorities. In fact, it turns out Chaim checked out books under his own name at least five times in September 1940.

The first entry was on September 6, 1940, weeks before his father and Rafael appear in the ledger together. He checked out the Iggeret ha-shemad twice, on September 12 and September 14. These are, undoubtedly, the visits to transcribe Maimonides’s text, as described in the family testimony recorded in Shiurei Rabbenu Meir HaLevi. Rafael’s borrowing of the same text on October 1, when he visited the library with his father, was probably to check his brother’s transcription against the source.

That September, Chaim also read the tenth-century grammarian Dunash ben Labrat, the letters of Sa’adia Gaon and Ramban, the Abudraham’s commentary on the siddur, Samuel David Luzzatto’s essays collected in Bet ha-otzar, and a run of midrashic works, several in modern critical editions such as those of Solomon Buber. This is not the reading of a man sent on an undercover mission to copy one text. It is, rather, the reading of a wide, curious, and learned mind, and the ledger records it without comment or apology.

Of course, this isn’t surprising. As I wrote above, many well-known rabbinic figures used the library without incident. What is surprising is the pseudo-pious lengths to which Sorotzkin went to deny that the Brisker Rov and his sons simply used the Strashun Library, a fact that the family itself had no qualms about memorializing. What the ledgers allow us to do is to see, in a reader’s own name and hand, what he read in one of the great libraries of his world.

The Strashun Library Ledger Project, which is digitizing and making the ledgers publicly available, is a collaboration between the Martynas Mažvydas National Library of Lithuania, the e-Lijah Lab at the University of Haifa, Yale University’s Jewish Studies Department and Library, the Fortunoff Video Archive, and Litvak SIG.

Quiz Answers; Response to Criticism; Rav Schwab Writes to the Rogochover

Marc B. Shapiro

1. Let me begin with the riddles from my last post here.

A. Where do we find that Shammai not only disagrees with Beit Shammai, but also agrees with Beit Hillel?

B. In the days of the tannaim a certain item was unquestionably muktzeh. However, in the post-talmudic period, some hold that this item is no longer muktzeh. What item am I referring to? Provide the actual source in the Talmud and later authorities to justify your answer.

The answer for number 1 that I intended is found in Orlah 2:4-5. Mike Wiessenberg, David, Shimi, and Sam got this right.

Yet Moshe Schwartz offered a different answer which I think is also correct. He wrote:

From the baraisa brought down in Beitzah 20a, it could be suggested that only Beis Shammai held that one can’t bring an olah on Yom Tov, but from the fact that Bava Ben Buta said the halacha is in accordance with Hillel, it can be inferred that he is testifying to Shammai’s opinion as well. Especially since the Gemara in Shabbos 15a doesn’t ask from the machlokes of olah on Yom Yov when it says that there was only three times that Hillel and Shammai argued.  So, all this suggests to me that here Shammai was in agreement with Beis Hillel and Hillel himself that you can bring an olah on Yom Tov. See also Tosafos in Chagigah 7b.

For number 2, no one gave the answer I intended: In the days of the tannaim a get was muktzeh. That was because you could not do anything with it on Shabbat. You could not even use it to learn the halakhot of writing a get since Torah learning was to be entirely oral. Yet after the Oral Law was written, R Moshe Isserles states, Even ha-Ezer 136:7, that according to some it is now permitted to handle a get on Shabbat as it is not muktzeh. In other words, since you can learn various halakhot by examining the get, one is now permitted to do so on Shabbat. That this is what R. Isserles means is made clear by his comment in Darkhei Moshe, ibid.:

בזמן הזה שנתנה תורה שבע”פ לכתוב לכ”ע מותר לטלטל גט שהרי אדם יכול ללמוד ממנו כמה הלכות גטין

It is interesting to note that while in Darkhei Moshe R. Isserles says that everyone agrees with this opinion, in the Shulhan Arukh he writes “some say”.

The Beit Yosef, Even ha-Ezer 136, also says that everyone agrees that today it is permitted to carry a get, but in the Bedek ha-Bayit he questions this permission.

As mentioned, during the era when the Oral Law was not written all agree that a get was muktzeh (and the same law would apply to a ketubah) since all learning had to be oral. What I don’t understand, and maybe some of our learned readers can enlighten me, is what are we to make of what the Talmud refers to as megilat setarim. These were private notebooks that the Sages had during the period when the Oral Law could not be written down for the public. In order not to forget what they were taught, the Sages wrote things down. Rashi, Shabbat 6b and Bava Metzia 92a, tells us that these notebooks had to be hidden. However, Maimonides, in his introduction to the Mishneh Torah, also notes that the Sages recorded both what they were taught and their own independent Torah insights. Yet, unlike Rashi, he does not mention that they hid their notebooks. Furthermore, unlike Rashi, Maimonides does not view the permission to write down Torah thoughts as intended solely to prevent forgetting. For him, Torah she-be-al Peh signifies that Torah is transmitted orally rather than through written means. Nevertheless, it was never forbidden to write down the Oral Torah for personal use; it was kept hidden only to prevent its use for public teaching.[1]

According to Rashi, in the era of Torah she-be-al Peh one was not allowed to study the Oral Law from a written text. Writing it down was permitted only as an emergency measure, to prevent forgetting, but under normal circumstances it was forbidden. On this view, it makes sense that a get would be considered muktzeh. However, according to Maimonides, it was never forbidden to write down the Oral Law for private use. Since, in his opinion, one could study the Oral Law privately from written texts, why should a get be muktzeh? How is it different from a private notebook used for study? If anyone has an answer to this, I would be interested to hear it.

R. Meir Mazuz offers another interesting example of how halakhah has evolved in response to changing realities. Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 320:6, states: “One is permitted to squeeze lemons [on Shabbat].” R. Mazuz explains that this ruling is not mentioned by the Geonim or by Maimonides because, in their time, lemons were only primarily for medicinal purposes rather than as a food. Consequently, squeezing them for drinking would have been considered forbidden on Shabbat. This is in line with the halakhah recorded in Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 328:37: “Anything that is not eaten or drunk by healthy people is forbidden to be eaten or drunk for medicinal purposes [on Shabbat].”

2. In my article “The Brisker Method Reconsidered” and also in my book Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, I refer to how R. Hayyim Soloveitchik ignored Maimonides’ own explanation to the sages of Lunel of Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Nizkei Mamon 4:4.[2] Maimonides informed them that their text of the Mishneh Torah was incorrect and supplied the proper reading. However, R. Hayyim, in his commentary, disregarded Maimonides’ correction, illustrating how the Mishneh Torah had taken on a life of its own such that there was no perceived need to follow even Maimonides’ own assertion that the text was mistaken.[3]

In a recent article, Rabbi Elisha Friedman takes issue with my point:[4]

To correct the record it is worth pointing out one error in Shapiro’s overall excellent discussion of this subject. One of his central proofs for his approach, which he repeats in his Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters (University of Scranton Press, 2008), 55, refers to R. Hayyim’s explanation in Hilkhot Nizkei Mamon 4:4. The problem is that Rambam, in a letter, revised the text of this halakha, as R. Yosef Karo in his commentary Kesef Mishneh, ad loc., cites. R. Hayyim completely omits any mention of this revision in his discussion, which leads Shapiro into a reflection of how to view halakhic works which are based on faulty texts. This point is made even more emphatically in the book he is reviewing, Norman Solomon, The Analytic Movement: Hayyim Soloveitchik and His Circle (Scholars Press, 1993), 219. While the overall point—that R. Hayyim is impervious to such textual matters—is undoubtedly correct and can be proven from other explanations in his work,[5] Solomon and Shapiro’s example is in fact not one of them. The piece is unrelated to the words Rambam changed in his letter; it works according to all versions. R. Hayyim proves that Rambam must be referring to an animal which pays damages from its own value and then wonders why this halakha appears in the context of the watchman’s larger responsibility for damages. Quoting Rambam’s responsum might have been proper scholarly etiquette for the sake of accuracy, but it would not have changed the overall trajectory.

Let us examine this case. Maimonides writes as follows in Hilkhot Nizkei Mamon 4:4:

When a person entrusts his animal to an unpaid watchman, a paid watchman, a renter or a borrower, these individuals assume the owner’s responsibilities. If the animal causes damages, the watchman is held liable. When does the above apply? When they did not guard the animal at all. If, however, they guarded the animal in an excellent manner, as they should, and it got loose and caused damage, the watchmen are not liable, and the owners are liable.

The problem with this halakhah is that if the watchman guarded the animal properly, and it still got out, why should the owner be liable? Maimonides was asked about this by the Sages of Lunel and he told them that they should correct their texts to read: “If, however, they guarded the animal in an excellent manner, as they should, and it got loose and caused damage, the watchmen are not liable. If the watchmen guarded the animal in an inferior manner, they are not liable if they are unpaid. Instead, the owners are liable, even if the animal kills a person. The watchman is liable if he is paid, a renter, or a borrower.”

What I said—and what Friedman criticizes—is that R. Hayyim offered an analysis of the mistaken text. Looking again at R. Hayyim, I see no reason to retract what I wrote, and I don’t understand how Friedman can criticize me. The issue isn’t whether one of R. Hayyim’s hiddushim works with both the mistaken text and the corrected text. The issue is, as I said, that R. Hayyim analyzes and explains the mistaken text. He does not pay attention to Maimonides’ correction, which he knew as it is mentioned in the Kesef Mishneh. Thus, right at the beginning of R. Hayyim’s commentary to Nizkei Mamon 4:4 he writes:

וא”כ הא קשה רישא שכתב הרמב”ם שבשמירה מעולה הבעלים חייבין, ואמאי חייבין כיון דעיקר הנגיחה הויא נגיחה של פטור

Yet in the corrected text of the Mishneh Torah, it never states that the owners are liable. R. Hayyim continues discussing the uncorrected text, leading the Hazon Ish in his comment on this passage to write: וכבר כתב הכ”מ בשם הר”מ בעצמו שהוא ט”ס

In R. Hayyim’s commentary to Nizkei Mamon 4:11, which I additionally mention in Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, his analysis also ignores the corrected text. He cites the uncorrected text and states:

הרי דדעת הרמב”ם דרק בזמן שהשומרין פטורין הוא דהבעלים חייבין

He also writes:

ולפ”ז הרי לכאורה יש למידק מדנקט הכא הרמב”ם הך דינא דהבעלים חייבין

Yet as we have seen, in his responsum to the sages of Lunel, Maimonides says that the underlined words are a mistake, meaning that R. Hayyim’s presentation of Maimonides’ view is not in accord with his corrected text.

In response to what we have just seen from R. Hayyim, the Hazon Ish writes:

צ”ע למה לא נקבל מש”כ הכ”מ בשם רבו בתשובתו לחכמי לוניל

In other words, the Hazon Ish calls attention to the fact that R. Hayyim, in his explanation, operates on the assumption that the printed text is correct, while ignoring Maimonides’ responsum in which he states that the text is mistaken.

In Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, p. 55 n. 232, I refer to R. Eliyahu Soloveitchik’s note to an article by Prof. Shlomo Zalman Havlin.[6] Let me cite his words, stated with regard to Nizkei Mamon 4:4, as I think they explain well the phenomenon we are discussing and are in line with my approach.

אמנם עיון בספר חידושי רבנו חיים הלוי מראה (וזוהי גם רוח הדברים בבית מדרשו) שכשהוא נפגש עם שינויי גירסה מסוימים בגמרא או ברמב”ם, אין הוא דן בשאלה “מה יצא מתחת קולמוסו של מר בר רב אשי או של רבנו משה בן מימון”, הוא גם לא דן בשאלה הכללית יותר “מהו הנוסח הנכון”. רבי חיים מתייחס לשינויי גירסה אצל הקדמונים כאל כל מחלוקת אחרת בפשט הסוגיה, שלומדים את שתי הדעות בשווה ואלו ואלו דברי אלקים חיים. מבחינה פרשנית אפשר לומר שרבי חיים קידש את אשר היה לפניו והרחיק את עצמו מכל דיון בשאלות עובדתיות היסטוריות, ובמקומו עסק בחקר התבונה הטהורה של תורתינו הקדושה . . . ומאחר שאין ענייננו “בירור הנוסח” אלא לומדים אנו את הנוסחאות השונות, לכן גם כשהרמב”ם בתשובה מגיה את דברי עצמו, ומנמק את הנוסח הנפוץ בטעות מעתיקים, העובדה שלפני המגיד משנה היה נוסח מסויים ברמב”ם (הנוסח הנפוץ) דיה היא כדי לקבוע שהנוסח הזה תורה הוא, ויש להתייגע על פירושו.

The very point I made, and which Friedman criticizes, is also made by R. Yehoshua Inbal.[7] He writes:

והרי הגר”ח קיצוני בדבר עוד הרבה יותר מהחזו”א, וכנודע גם במקום שהרמב”ם עצמו הסביר את דבריו, והובאו הדברים בנו”כ, וגם במקום שהרמב”ם שלפנינו ט”ס לפי עדות הרמב”ם עצמו המובאת בנו”כ, התעלם מכך הגר”ח.

In his note to this passage, he refers to Nizkei Mamon 4:4 and Maimonides’ correction of the text, and then states:

אבל הגר”ח לא קיבל גילוי זה ומיישב הג’ הישנה ובסו”ד כותב שזה גם ד’ הרמב”ם

I realize that Friedman can criticize Inbal just as he criticized me, but I feel comfortable knowing that I am in such good company.[8]

Turning to a related issue, the Hazon Ish is often cited as one who was opposed to the Brisker approach. However, the most famous opponent was R. Jacob David Wilovsky, the Ridbaz. I have discussed his opposition to what he called “chemistry” (which includes the Brisker method) in earlier posts here, and here. In my earlier writing about the Ridbaz, I was unaware of another example of his criticism of the analytic approach. This appears in his Nimukei Ridbaz, Parashat Terumah, p. 24a:

שבעו”ה נתפרצה במדינות ליטא וביחוד בזאמוט ע”י איזה רבנים לימוד בדרך הכאמי או הגיון והוא לא רוח התורה אך רוח זרה באה מבחוץ והכניסו בעו”ה להתורה שבע”פ ונתפשטה לימוד הזה אצל בחורים בעו”ה עד שהתורה לבשה צורה אחרת בעו”ה והמבינים מועטים והוא רחום יכפר עון

Regarding the Hazon Ish’s critique of R. Hayyim’s hiddushim, R. Elyakim Schlesinger reports that this was not intended for public consumption, meaning that it never should have been published.[9]

R. Hayyim Dov Ber Gulevsky, the grandson of R. Simcha Zelig Reguer, also claimed that the critique of the Hazon Ish was published against the wishes of the Hazon Ish’s family.[10]

והנה בשלהי קיץ שנת תשל”ה, שמוע שמעתי שיצאו אנשים בלתי הגונים, ולא שמעו לקול הורים ומורים, ולמשפחת הגאון החסיד צדיק יסוד עולם בעל החזון איש. והוציאו במרמה נגד רצונם את ההשגות שהחסיד הנ”ל רשם על ספר חדושי רבינו חיים הלוי. והדפיסו את זה יחד עם הספר חדושי רבינו חיים הלוי

R. Hayyim Kanievsky also reported that his father, the Steipler, was unhappy that the Hazon Ish’s critique had been printed, though not because he feared it would be seen as disrespectful. Rather, his concern was that among the Hazon Ish’s comments were some weak proofs. Readers might mistakenly assume that these weak arguments formed the basis of the Hazon Ish’s position, when in fact they were merely supplementary points that did not affect his fundamental argument.[11]

3. In Renewing the Old, Sanctifying the New, I discuss R. Kook’s view about the substitution of vegetarian sacrifices in place of animals. I also refer to what the Nazir—who unlike R. Kook was a vegetarian—says about this. Unfortunately, I overlooked an important passage from the Nazir that appears in Elchanan Shilo, Yahadut Kiyumit (Tel Aviv, 2017), p. 199. This text, written after the Six Day war, was published by Shilo from manuscript:

כל רוחי מתקומם לזביחת זבחים ולהזאת דמם. הן אנו מנוזרים מבשר בהמות ועופות, אני בערך ששים שנה, ובני ביתנו כל ימי חייהם. וכיצד תהי עבודת הקודש והמקדש בזביחת בעלי חיים והזאת דמם
אמנם זה רוח טהור, כמו רוח הקודש, המתקומם נגד זה. אבל זאת היא חוקת התורה, חוקה חקקתי, גזרת התורה, ואין לנו רשות להרהר אחריה
אמנם כבר קדמו חכמינו ז”ל ואמרו בגלוי, עתידים כל הקורבנות שיתבטלו, חוץ מתודה. וכן בשערי אורה. ואולי מתקרב ובא העתיד לבא. ומשום זה מן השמים המניעות והמכשולים, לעכב שלא תתחדש עבודת המקדש בזבחים, כמו קרבן פסח. אמנם יכולה להתחדש העבודה במקדש, בהקרבת המנחות

The Nazir wonders if the future time when there will be no animal sacrifices is almost upon us. This would explain why we are precluded from rebuilding the Temple at present, so as to prevent us from having to offer animal sacrifices. In other words, the Temple will only be rebuilt after we have forsaken animal sacrifices and have moved into the era when only vegetarian sacrifices will be acceptable to God.

4. In a nice post on the Seforim Blog here, R. Shmuel Lesher dealt with aspects of R. Shimon Schwab’s approach to R. Samson Raphael Hirsch. I would like to add a few points.

Lesher deals with the famous letter from R. Schwab to the East European gedolim asking about the validity of the Hirschian approach. Lesher writes: “There seems to be some discrepancies among those who record the story. Marc B. Shapiro dates the letter to 1933, whereas Jacob J. Schacter says it was 1934. Most surprising is R. Dr. Norman Lamm’s assertion that the question was posed from America.”

The letter was sent in 1933. I know this because R. Joseph Rozin’s reply has been published in Leo Levi’s Sha’arei Talmud Torah, p. 348. It is dated 25 Adar, 5693 which corresponds to March 23, 1933. In fact, a copy of R. Schwab’s original letter, which identifies him as assistant rabbi in Darmstadt— the senior rabbi was R. Yonah Merzbach—survives in the R. Joseph Rozin archives at Yeshiva University. It is dated Erev Shabbat, Parashat Ki Tisa, 5693. This corresponds to March 17, 1933. Based on the replies that R. Schwab received, I believe that the identical letter was sent to all the rabbis R. Schwab turned to in 1933.

Leo Levi at one time mistakenly assumed that R. Schwab wrote the letters when he was a yeshiva student in Lithuania.[12] Lesher correctly writes: “Contrary to what Dr. Levi writes that R. Schwab was still a student in a Lithuanian yeshiva when he posed the question, R. Schwab had already left the Mir Yeshiva by 1931.”

But then, Lesher also writes:

Nevertheless, there is reason to believe that Dr. Levi’s record of the story should be the most accurate. In addition to publishing the four responses to R. Schwab, Dr. Levi writes in his Torah Study: A Survey of Classic Sources on Timely Issues (New York: Feldheim, 2002), 363n13, available here, that R. Schwab himself shared R. Yosef Rozen’s response with him personally. It is unlikely that Dr. Levi would not have gotten the context of the letters accurately from R. Schwab. Perhaps one can suggest in Dr. Levi’s defense, that R. Schwab may have posed the question at least twice. Once when he was a yeshiva student in Lithuania and then again in writing later when opening a yeshiva in Bavaria.

Yet this is needless speculation, as there is no question that in the text referred to in note 12 Levi was mistaken about the context of the letters. (As we shall soon see, Levi would get something wrong much more significant than this). In fact, in a later article, Levi correctly writes that R. Schwab sent the letter to the gedolim when he was a young rabbi in Germany, but he was wrong is stating that R. Schwab wrote it when it was rabbi in Ichenhausen.[13] As mentioned, he actually sent it before this, when he was assistant rabbi in Darmstadt.

In Ha-Pardes, December 1939, R. Schwab published what he later said was the letter he sent to the gedolim.[14] Yet this is not correct. The article in Ha-Pardes only includes his halakhic discussion about secular studies, which was the main part of the letter.[15] Missing from Ha-Pardes is the introduction to the letter, which is itself a fascinating historical document that illustrates R. Schwab’s disillusionment with the German Orthodox Torah im Derekh Eretz approach. It is published here for the first time, and in the transcription I have added paragraphs for ease of reading:[16]

מו”צ דק”ק דארמשטאדט והגליל

Rabbin. Ass. S. Schwab

Darmstadt

בעה”י דארמשטאדט עש”ק פ’ כי תשא תרצ”ג לפ”ק
החיים הברכה והשלו’ יחולו על מרום פסגת ראש הר קדש ה”ה עטרת תפארת גאון יעקב מחמד עינינו נשיא ישראל שר התורה קדוש וטהור יאמר להוכקשת”ר רשכבה”ג אדמו”ר מרן הגאון האדיר מו”ר הג”ר יוסף ראזין שליט”א ראב”ד דק”ק דווינסק יע”א

אחרי קידה והשתחוי’ מול הדרת קדשו ופ”ש כנכון!

בזה אגיש נגד פני כקשת”ר שליט”א שאלה חשובה למעשה בבקשה שטוחה שכשת”ר ימחל נא בטובו להשיבני דבר ולהודיעני שמעתתא אליבא דהלכתא בענין דלקמן וכוונתי ללבן ולברר האמת לאמיתו בשאלה זו ואציעה שאלתי ובקשתי בזה רק לידע הלכתא בקושטא ותורה היא וללמוד אני צריך ומעומק מקור חכמת תורתו ידלה נא כשת”ר לי מים חיים ויורני דרך הישר ואורח מישור אלך בה בס”ד

הנה בודאי ידוע להוכקשת”ר שיטת רוב יהודי אשכנז החרידים [!] על דבר ד’ ומקורם הטהור הוא הגרש”ר הירש זצ”ל בענין התחברות חכמת התורה עם חכמות אומות העולם וסברתם היא שכך פירוש המשנה באבות: “יפה תלמוד תורה עם דרך ארץ”, כלומר ללמוד חכמת התורה ביחד עם חכמות חצוניות ויסדו מכאן שיטתם שכל מה שרוח האדם פועל טוב בעולם – ר”ל כל מה שקוראין בלשון אשכנז קולטור ה”ה התרבות האנושית וכל מה שסופריהם וחכמיהם של האומות מפרסמים ומודיעים ומלמדים בעולם – שכל זה נובע ממקור חכמתו של הקבה”ו החונן לאדם דעת ולכן ראוי להגות בכל החכמות ולהתעסק עמן ובכלל להיות “געבילדעט” ככל הגוים אשר סביבותינו ואומרים שגם בדורות הראשונים היתה השיטה הזאת מקובלת בקרב עם ישראל כמו במדינות ספרד שגם שם היו לאנשים היותר חשובים שבכלל ישראל עסק עם כל חלקי החכמה והיתה להם יד בפילוסופיא, ברפואה, בתבונה, ובהנדסה ובשאר המדעות ומציאות זו משמשה לאחבנ”י כאן במדינותינו לראי’ חזקה לתמוך שיטתם. (ובפרט שחושבים הם שע”י התגשמותה של השיטה הזאת תהא להם אפשרות להראות לאפקורסים שיכול אדם להיות בעל תורה ויראה וגם בעל תרבות ומדע. ואין אחת מפרעת חברתה אלא אדרבא יחדיו תהיינה תואמות בשלמות.)

כך שיטתו של הגרש”ר הירש זצ”ל והבאים אחריו המשיכו מזה להתיר לעצמם כל מיני עניני החיצוניות, ועל פי שיטתם הזאת מותר בעיניהם ללמוד כל מיני ספרים חצונים בין ספרי טבע ופילוסופיא בין ספרי אפיקורסים ומינים וכופרים וגם ספרי משוררים שונים ואף ספרי “ראָמאַנעֶן” שבהן נכרכו דברי חכמה ומדע עם דברי חשק וספורי אהבת נשים – ושבר אל שבר יחדיו ידובקו – וגם מותר לגמרי בעיניהם לבקר באוניברסיטאות ששם מתעסקים בקביעות בכל מיני חכמה ומדע ואף הרבה פעמים בתוכן עניני מינות ממש, וגם הבקור בבתי טיאטראות כהיתר גמור נחשב להם שאומרים שבל ישגיחו בדברי עגבים שבהן אך ורק ימצאו ענין בחכמת אומנות – הבימה ובחכמת מעשה הציורים והתוארים שישנם שם – ולא אדבר עוד לא על אדות ענין לימודי החול שילמדו את בניהם עפ”י חוקי הממשלה וגזירת המלכות ואפשר שג”כ יש קצת היתר משום אומנות שכמעט א”א למצא פרוטה מספקה במדינות אלו מבלי איזה ידיעות באותן החכמות וגם בזה לא אדע בעניי עד עתה יסוד חזק של היתר ודאין. אולם לא על זאת עיקר שאלתי שכעת לפ[עמים] אפשר נדונים כמוכרחים עפ”י דינא דמלכותא ללמוד קצת חכמות כלליות בבתי ספר עממיים של כל אתר ואתר אך בראש וראשון אדאג איך למצא היתר לאותם שלומדים בלי הכרח רק מחפץ לבם חכמות אחרות מלבד תלמוד תורה בפרט בבתי הגימנסיות וכדומה

וגם אבקש לידע בבירור פירוש המשנה “יפה ת”ת עם ד”א” אם אפשר בעולם לפרשה על אופן שפרשו תלמידי הג’ רש”ר הירש זצ”ל להתאם תורה וחכמות אחרות יחד, כי כמדומה שהיתה בזמנם אז הוראת שעה אך אין להביא ראי’ מש”ס ופוסקים ליסד הוראת שעה שאין הלכה כמותה בשאר העתים ולפי כל הנ”ל לא היתה מעולם לבי שלמה עם בעלי השטה הנזכרת

R. Schwab lays out the case as follows: Most German Orthodox follow the path of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch regarding joining Torah with worldly wisdom, and they think that this is the meaning of the passage in Avot, “Yafeh Torah im Derekh Eretz”. They believe that culture and literature arise from the wisdom that God grants to humanity, and therefore one should engage in these pursuits in order to become cultured, just like non-Jews. They also maintain that this reflects how Jews lived in medieval Spain, where they were involved in philosophy, medicine, astronomy, and other sciences. Furthermore, they argue that this approach best demonstrates to heretics that one can be a pious and learned Jew while also being cultured and educated. In this way, the different aspects of one’s personality coexist harmoniously rather than creating tension.

R. Schwab states forthrightly that this was the approach of Hirsch, and that those who followed him continued in this path, permitting for themselves all sorts of “external things.” Thus, they studied all kinds of books in science and philosophy, including works written by heretics, as well as poetry and novels in which insights of wisdom and science were interwoven with erotic themes. In their view, it is entirely permissible to attend universities, even though one may encounter heretical ideas. They likewise regard going to the theatre as permissible, advising that any erotic elements simply be ignored.

R. Schwab explains that his question does not concern young people who study secular subjects, since this may be considered obligatory due to government requirements. Moreover, such study may be permitted because it is virtually impossible to earn a livelihood without some secular education. His concern, rather, is with those who engage in secular studies not out of necessity, but out of a desire to immerse themselves in Western culture. He also wants to know if the Mishnah’s expression, “Yafeh Talmud Torah im Derekh Eretz,” can really be understood in accord with the approach of Hirsch’s students, that one should join Torah together with secular studies. He assumes that Hirsch’s approach was a hora’at sha’ah but you cannot apply a hora’at sha’ah to other times. R. Schwab confesses that because of the considerations he lays out, he was never comfortable with the German Orthodox approach to Torah im Derekh Eretz. (In his 1966 work, These and Those, R. Schwab recognized that his earlier understanding, that Torah im Derekh Eretz was intended by Hirsch as a hora’at sha’ah, was a mistake.)

This is the introduction to his letter which is followed by the halakhic section of the letter, and it is this section which was published in Ha-Pardes.

Interestingly, a year after R. Schwab sent his letter to the gedolim of Europe, he sent a shorter but similar letter to R. Kook, together with the halakhic section that had been sent to the other gedolim and would later appear in Ha-Pardes. This letter to R. Kook was first published by Levi.[17] It is striking that R. Schwab, who is identified with the Hirschian separatist ideology, nevertheless included R. Kook among the gedolim he consulted. He also addressed R. Kook with exalted titles:

הגאון הנפלא בצדקתו ובחכמת תורתו מרן הגרא”י הכהן קוק

There is no record of Rav Kook replying to R. Schwab.

One point that Levi does not note is that in the halakhic section sent to R. Kook, R. Schwab added a paragraph that is not found in the original article sent to the gedolim, in which he again expresses his view that Hirsch’s approach was a hora’at sha’ah.

האף למ”ד כי שיטת הגרש”ר הירש זצוק”ל שיש חיוב בלימוד כל חכמות האומות בכדי להתאים התרבות האנושית עם חכמת התורה, בתכלית להיות “געבילדעט” ככל הגוים אשר סביבותנו, כי שיטה זאת שאינה מורה היתר בתנאים המובאים הנ”ל רק מלמד גם חיוב – זו היתה רק ואך הוראת שעה בזמנו ועתו, ויש לחקור אם ההוראה חלה ג”כ בזמננו אנו. עיין געזאמעלטע שריפטען צד 449, 456 חוברת ב’ ועוד מקומות [ועי’ בעל חתם סופר בספרו “תורת משה” פרשת שמות ופרשת בשלח]

Let us now return to Levi, who is cited in Lesher’s post. Although Levi considered himself an advocate of Hirschian Torah im Derekh Eretz, his understanding represents a very restricted version of Hirsch’s ideas. Indeed, his conception of the content of Torah im Derekh Eretz appears to be largely identical to that of R. Schwab. If you examine Levi’s Sha’arei Talmud Torah or his article “Torah im Derekh Erets in Our Time”,[18] the advocacy of secular studies is in order that one is able to make a living—Torah im Parnasah—as through work we join with God in perfecting the world. Levi also regards knowledge of science as an integral part of Derekh Eretz, and he further maintains that art and music, when used in the service of God, are also included within Derekh Eretz.

Yet the humanities, the bedrock of Western Civilization, are completely absent from Levi’s understanding of Torah im Derekh Eretz. Despite the fact that he writes that according to Hirsch, “the Torah affirms all that is true in modern culture,”[19] his presentation of Hirsch’s views completely ignores what modern culture means. He even claims that “it may be argued that it [Hirsch’s Torah im Derekh Eretz educational system] was a hora-at sha’ah, a temporary measure.”[20] Since the notion of Torah im Derekh Eretz as a temporary measure stands in fundamental opposition to Hirsch’s own understanding, Levi’s acknowledgment that this might indeed reflect Hirsch’s view highlights the problematic nature of his approach. I say this even though, after mentioning the point about hora’at sha’ah, Levi adds: “though even if we grant this [that the Torah im Derekh Eretz educational system was a hora’at sha’ah], there may be good reason to maintain that its time has not yet passed.”[21] His footnote to this last sentence is itself enlightening as to how Levi understood Torah im Derekh Eretz.

Today science and technology play an increasingly pervasive role, as we rely more and more on technological devices for our daily needs. Hence all that our sages have said about the importance of scientific knowledge applies today with even greater force.

It would therefore seem that R. Hirsch’s hora-at sha’ah, issued 150 years ago, is no less applicable now. However, any decision on this issue must be made by those rabbinic leaders who are shouldering the responsibility for the community’s spiritual welfare.

Here we see that the Torah im Derekh Eretz educational system is unequivocally regarded as a hora’at sha’ah, unlike in the earlier text, where he presents this as a debatable point.[22] He portrays Torah im Derekh Eretz as focused on science and technology. Finally, Hirsch’s imprimatur is not reason enough for it to be regarded as a valid approach, but contemporary rabbinic leaders must decide on the matter.

In a later article, Levi also notes how Hirsch not only advocated the study of science but also history. He then states:[23]

He encourages the study of nature, of the nature of man (through psychology and anthropology), and of history—but not the study of the humanities, which deal with the meaning of the world, man’s place in the world, aspirations and values, goals and ideas. Even when, on one occasion, dictates of good manners compelled him to eulogize a gentile poet, he praised that poet for having absorbed many lofty Jewish teachings, and for having enriched the gentile world by clothing those teachings in an inspiring form. Nowhere, however, in an address of fourteen pages, did he imply that we, as Jews, should—or need to—absorb ideas from a Gentile.

Levi is referring to Hirsch’s famous speech on Schiller, delivered on the hundredth anniversary of his birth. He is saying that Hirsch felt forced to deliver his speech in order that his school not be seen as departing from what was proper. Elsewhere, he makes the outlandish assertion that Hirsch only “permitted” reading German literature in order to learn the language, but not in order to know the content! [23b]

Contrary to Levi, the issue for Hirsch was not whether Jews need to absorb ideas from non-Jews, but if there is value in non-Jewish wisdom. The notion that Hirsch did not encourage the study of humanities is completely false. He, and his followers, believed strongly that great works of literature can often teach lessons fully compatible with authentic Torah teachings, and these writings are therefore to be included in “Derekh Eretz”. In his Schiller speech he explicitly states that “our forefathers in their wisdom have taught us to look among the ‘wise men of all nations’ for the ‘spirit of wisdom imparted by God to mortals.’”[24] Will anyone be surprised to learn that the study of German literature was included in the curriculum of Hirsch’s school. This was to remain a distinctive feature of Hirschian philosophy. I discuss this at greater length in my article “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch and Friedrich von Schiller,” available here.

Naomi Schwab Schendowich has recently written that Hirsch’s intention in instituting Torah im Derekh Eretz in his school “was that the pupils should have intensive Torah studies as well as a wide secular education in preparation for earning a livelihood.”[25] Yet listen to what Hirsch himself says, completely rejecting the notion that Torah im Derekh Eretz is exclusively about earning a livelihood.

A good secular education can give our young people substantial new insights, added dimensions that will enrich their religious training. . . . Any supporter of education and culture should deplore the fact that when these secular studies are evaluated in terms of their usefulness to the young, too much stress is often placed on so-called practical utility and necessity. Under such circumstances the young are in danger of losing the pure joy of acquiring knowledge for its own sake, so that they will no longer take pleasure in the moral and spiritual benefits to be obtained from study.[26]

* * * * * * * *

[1] See R. Bezalel Zolty, Mishnat Yaavetz, Orah Hayyim, p. 95.

[2] For a recent academic article that deals with R. Hayyim, see Sergey Dolgopolski, “Constructed and Denied: ‘The Talmud’ from the Brisker Rav to the Mishneh Torah” in  James A. Diamond and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Encountering the Medieval in Modern Jewish Thought (Leiden, 2012), pp. 177-200. Despite the title referring to the Brisker Rav, the article is about R. Hayyim. This reminded me of something interesting. I know someone who delivered a Daf Yomi shiur to a Hasidic audience. Unsure how they would react if he quoted Joseph B. Soloveitchik by name, he instead referred to him as the Brisker Rav.

[3] Here are two other points of note regarding R. Hayyim’s commentary.

1. At the end of the introduction the sons include a four-line remembrance of their mother.

2. It is reported that when R. Hayyim’s commentary was published in 1936, R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz had a ceremony whereby the book was brought into the beit midrash together with music, just as if it were a new Sefer Torah. Students even danced with the book from R. Baruch Ber’s house until the yeshiva. See R. Dov Eliakh, Be-Sod Siah, p. 212.

[4] “Rambam of Brisk: R. Hayyim Soloveitchik’s Relationship with Mishneh Torah,” Tradition 5 (Summer, 2024), p. 2 n. 2.

[5] Friedman, however, points to one example where R. Hayyim suggests that the text of the Mishneh Torah is in error. See Hiddushei R. Hayyim Halevi, Edut 21:9. R. Hayyim supports his suggestion by claiming that his preferred reading appears in an old manuscript. However, this raises the question of where he obtained this information, since the Frankel edition of the Mishneh Torah reports that no manuscripts preserve an alternate reading. See Hiddushei R. Hayyim Halevi, Edut 21:9 and Friedman, “Kelalei Ha-Gaon Rabbi Hayyim mi-Brisk be-Veur ha-Rambam,” Alumot 1 (2026), pp. 390-391.

[6] “Ha-Yahas li-She’elat Nusah be-Sifrei Hazal,” in Yoel Catane and Eliyahu Soloveitchik, eds., Beit ha-Va’ad (Jerusalem, 2003), pp. 27-28, n. 28.

[7] “Yesodot ve-Ekronot Parshanut ha-Talmud,” Ha-Otzar 6 (Av 5777), p. 266.

[8] See also R. Raphael Amihai Hadad in the recently published Ha-Mashbir, vol. 12 (2026), p. 126:

ושמעתי בשם הגרב”ש דויטש זצ”ל שאף שהגר”ח בחידושו הידוע על “שומר שמסר לשומר” (הלכות נזקי ממון פ”ד ה”ד), בונה מערכת שלמה ליישב ולהסביר דברי הרמב”ם בעוד שהרמב”ם עצמו בתשובתו לחכמי לוניל (הובא במעשה רוקח שם) תולה את זה בטעות סופר, “דומה, כי גם אילו היה הגר”ח יודע את תשובת הרמב”ם, לה היה חוזר בו”

This volume of Ha-Mashbir, edited by the indefatigable Rabbis Yissachar Dov Hoffman and Ovadya Hoffman, is as usual a fascinating publication. It includes a previously unpublished commentary by R. Ovadiah Yosef on Tehillim. It also includes letters I received from R. Meir Mazuz in the years after the publication of Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan. You can see the letters here.

[9] Ha-Dor ve-ha-Tekufah, p. 48. Truth be told, I am hesitant to quote anything from this book. I say this because the following passage (p. 32), citing R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik in explaining why R. Kook came to London, is so historically uninformed that it raises questions about the reliability of the entire book. There is no way that R. Isaac Zev could have said what he is quoted as saying.

פעם שאל אותי אם יודע אני איך הגיע רב קוק ללונדון, וסיפר לי כי הוא הורחק מישיבת וואלוז’ין לפי שהי’ קייליקער, ועסק בלימודי השכלה, ואח”כ התחתן וחפש רבנות, כשמוע הגר”ח ז”ל שהוא מחפש רבנות, חרה לו ז”ל מאוד, אמרו לו הלא כבר עשה תשובה, אמר להם וכי ממנים בעל תשובה להיות רב, וכתב הגר”ח לכל העירות שבליטא שלא יקבלוהו לרב, ולכן הוכרח לברוח ללונדון

The statement that we would not appoint a baal teshuvah as rav of a community, which was widely accepted throughout the generations, refers to the classic baal teshuvah, namely, someone who “went off the derekh” and then repented. It does not refer to a “tinok she-nishbah,” i.e., someone born into a non-religious family—either a Converso family or a modern non-Orthodox family—who later in life became religious. The same can be said about a hazzan, concerning which Ta’anit 16b states that he must not have had a bad reputation in his youth. See R. Moshe Sternbuch, Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 1, no. 99; R. Netanel Meoded, Mizrah Shemesh, vol. 4, no. 1. See also R. Sternbuch, Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 2, no. 462, who sees value in having a baal teshuvah as a darshan. R. Avraham Shapiro has a different perspective; see his Rosh Devarkha (Jerusalem, 2010), p. 565:

כאשר ראה הסבא מסלובודקה זצ”ל שכל הישיבה שלו הלכה לשמוע את הרצאתו של החוזר בתשובה – הרב בירנבוים זצ”ל – הוא אמר: אני הייתי רגיל שבעל תשובה יושב בפינה ובוכה, והיום, יושב על במה ונותן הרצאות

I would only make two points about this passage. The first is that Nathan Birnbaum was a classic baal teshuvah in that he abandoned Orthodoxy before later returning, so his situation is not comparable to current baalei teshuvah who grew up irreligious. Second, Birnbaum was not a rabbi, a mistake that can be attributed to the editor of the book, as R. Shapiro would never have referred to him with the rabbinic title. In R. Shapiro’s Siah Ish, attached to his Hag ha-Sukkot (Jerusalem, 2012), p. 96, R. Shapiro’s comment about Birnbaum also appears. Yet here he refers to “Dr. Nathan Birnbaum,” which is what R. Shapiro would have said.

[10] Gulevsky, Lahat ha-Herev ha-Mithapehet, pp. 5-6.

[11] Kanievsky, Orhot Rabbenu (new ed.), vol. 4, p. 169.

[12] See Levi, “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch – Myth and Fact,” Tradition 31 (Spring 1997), p. 11, called to my attention by Lesher.

[13] Ha-Ma’yan 48 (Nisan 5768), p. 37.

[14] See Jacob J. Schacter, “Torah u-Madda Revisited: The Editor’s Introduction,” Torah u-Madda Journal 1 (1989), p. 15, n. 1.

[15] There are also a few minor differences between the original letter and what appears in Ha-Pardes. The following sentence is only found in Ha-Pardes.

ואם אסור מן הדין בודאי גם כן משום פרנסה אסור ובפרט אם יכול האדם למצא אומנות אחרת נקיה וקלה אף גם שאינו מרויח כך כך

[16] The letter is found in the R. Joseph Rozin Collection, Yeshiva University Archives, MS. no. 1142. I thank Yeshiva University for permission to publish the letter. You can see the original letter here.

[17] Ha-Ma’yan 48 (Nisan 5768), pp. 38-39.

[18] Tradition 28 (Fall 1993), pp. 46-81.

[19] “Torah im Derekh Eretz in Our Time,” p. 68.

[20] Ibid.

[21] Ibid.

[22] When Levi reprinted R. Schwab’s article on Torah im Derekh Eretz in Ha-Ma’yan 48 (Nisan 5768), pp. 38-39, he is clear that Hirsch did not regard Torah im Derekh Eretz as a hora’at sha’ah. See ibid., p. 37.

[23] “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch – Myth and Fact,” pp. 7-8.

[23b] Ha-Ma’yan 48 (Nisan 5768), p. 38 n. 12.

[24] Hirsch, Collected Writings, vol. 9, p. 146.

[25] Schendowich, Hermann Schwab: Historian of German Jewry, His Life and Shorter Works (Jerusalem, 2022), p. 79 n. 24.

[26] Hirsch, Collected Writings, vol. 7, p. 88.

 

 Final Response

By Marc B. Shapiro

In response to Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s strong criticisms of my Limits of Orthodox Theology, I wrote four responses on the Seforim Blog. You can view them here, here, here, and here. I then stopped responding even though there are still many criticisms I could have commented on. Readers can compare Grossman’s arguments with my replies and draw their own judgment. Grossman has recently responded to my posts and offered further criticisms in an article published in Dialogue. See here.

I do not wish to respond to all of his points in his new article, but I feel I need to make some comments and then I will leave this matter and let the readers decide which side is more compelling. Because Grossman complains in his article that “the merits of the arguments are easily lost in the loose internet format and enthusiastic cheering of his online supporters,” I have decided not to allow comments to this post. I can only express my regret at the style that Grossman chose to adopt in his articles. Had he written in an appropriate fashion then it would have been possible to have had a constructive discussion and debate.

P. 161: “DIALOGUE editors offered the author, Dr. Marc Shapiro, an opportunity to respond directly in these pages. He chose instead to issue a response on his own blog, where he wrote a number of lengthy posts in his defense.”

Dialogue never offered me an opportunity to respond in the journal. The Seforim Blog is not my own blog. I am a writer on it like lots of others.

P. 162: “In his [Shapiro’s] view, the tenets of belief are Rambam’s innovations and are therefore disputable.” The word “innovation” implies that the Rambam invented the doctrines he includes in his principles. I never said such a thing.

P. 163: In giving examples of supposed distortions in my book, Grossman writes: “One example is when Shapiro cites Rivash in support of the statement that Christians believe in a three-part God while the Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God – a clear rejection of the Second Principle. A quick glance at Rivash reveals that he does indeed say such a thing as a quote from a philosopher, which he then proceeds to debunk.”

I would like readers to take a look at the relevant page of my book (p. 40) and see if what Grossman says is correct, that I cited Rivash in support of the statement that Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God.

Pp. 166-167. Readers should see my discussion here. I cite a number of sources that support what I say, and thus contrary to what Grossman states, I do not just insist on my right to offer an interpretation. In note 21 Grossman writes: “Dr. Shapiro attempts to salvage his theory by speculating that the Vilna Gaon may not have really meant what he wrote.” Readers can turn to my discussion here and will see that I never said that.

p. 173. We see here an example of how Grossman just talks past me, leading to nothing productive. I had questioned why in the Mishneh Torah the Rambam did not require that the convert be instructed in the Thirteen Principles. In his original essay, Grossman criticized this question which he said showed lack of understanding of the method of the Mishneh Torah. In my response here I cite rabbinic authorities who deal with this very question, thus showing that it is not an ignorant point, as Grossman portrayed it. One of those I cite is R. Chaim Sofer who writes [1]:

והדבר נפלא הלא יש י”ג עיקרי הדת והי’ לו לב”ד להאריך בכל השרשים

Grossman replies that while I quote R. Sofer, I neglect “to apprise [my] readers of R. Sofer’s subsequent words ‘Rambam didn’t add to the talmudic formula,’ exactly as I had written and directly in contradiction to Dr. Shapiro’s position.”

Here is the paragraph from R. Sofer.

R. Sofer says exactly what I quote him as saying. The final passage in the paragraph, which is mistranslated by Grossman, has nothing to do with my point and does not refute it in any way.

I would also note that in his fascinating Ha-Emunah ha-Ne’emanah, p. 142, R. Dovid Cohen offers an explanation as to why אין לומדים כל י”ג עקרים טרם שיתגייר הגר

P. 174. In Limits I discuss different approaches to the phenomenon of tikkun soferim. While the generally accepted approach is that tikkun soferim is not to be taken literally, I cite a number of authorities who did take it literally and assumed that Ezra or the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah made changes to biblical texts (including the Torah). In a later post here (which has nothing to do with Grossman), I cited some other examples of sources that understood tikkun soferim literally. One of those I mentioned is R. Pesach Finfer.[2] He states as follows:

ראוי הי‘ עזרא שתנתן התורה על ידו . . . והוא ונחמי‘ עשו תיקון סופרים וכינויי סופרים

Grossman says that it is unclear what I see in this line. What I see is that R. Finfer states that Ezra and Nehemiah were responsible for tikkunei soferim. This is the same language that is used in other sources that take the notion of tikkun soferim literally. For those who don’t take it literally, Ezra has nothing to do with tikkun soferim. Following the sentence I quoted from R. Finfer, he refers in parenthesis to Radbaz’s comment which offers a different perspective, that tikkun soferim is halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai. Here is the page.

While on the topic of tikkun soferim, let me share something else that is relevant. In Limits I mentioned that the evidence points to Rashi understanding tikkun soferim literally, namely, that the biblical text was changed by the Scribes. There was some pushback to this assertion by those could not accept that Rashi would ever hold such a position. Yet subsequent to my book, Yeshayahu Maori also came to the conclusion that Rashi understood tikkun soferim literally.[3] Furthermore, R. Avraham Pessin also explains that Rashi understands tikkun soferim literally.[4] He states that according to Rashi the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah had the authority to alter the text of the Torah:

ומבואר ברש”י שניתן הכח לאנשי כנסת הגדולה לשנות גם תורה שבכתב

I find this significant, because although one can point to numerous statements that such an approach in unacceptable, R. Pessin sees it as the clear meaning of Rashi (and among traditional interpreters he is not alone in this understanding[5]). Here are the pages from R. Pessin’s sefer.

Speaking of tikkun soferim, the most famous of which is Gen. 18:22: ‘ואברהם עודנו עומד לפני ה, I found something in R. Solomon Algazi’s Yavin Shemuah (Venice, 1639), p. 15a, which is fascinating and, as far as I know, unique in rabbinic literature. It is also in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle which establishes that the Torah in its entirety was delivered by God to Moses. In discussing ‘ואברהם עודנו עמוד לפני ה, R. Algazi claims that when God dictated the Torah to Moses, He said that God was standing before Abraham. But Moses on his own, out of respect for God, changed the verse to read that Abraham was standing before God. I guess we can say that this falls between the traditional view that the verse was never changed and the view that the Scribes altered the verse out of respect for God. For R. Algazi it was Moses who made the alteration, but as far as Maimonides is concerned, this is just as problematic as viewing tikkun soferim as an alteration of the Scribes. Here is R. Algazi’s surprising interpretation.

כיון דהב”ה היה אומר לו על כל מלה כתוב א”כ ודאי דהב”ה אמר לו וה’ עודנו עומד דלא איש אל ויכזב ומשה היה משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב ואברהם עודנו עומד א”כ מה שייך בזה הלכה למשה מסיני והוא על דרך המשל שדוד המלך יאמר לסופר מהי’ [מהיר] כתוב שדוד מצוה לפלוני והסופר משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב המלך דוד אבל המלך בעצמו אינו אומר כתוב המלך מצוה כך הב”ה יתעל’ לא אמר למשה שהיה סופר כתוב ואברהם עודנו עומד שהוא דרך כבוד אלא אמר לו האמת וה’ עודנו עומד ומשה שינה על דרך תיקון סופרים

Pp. 175-176. I wrote here: “Even when it comes to other basic ideas of Maimonides, which are not included as part of the Thirteen Principles, we find that scholars wondered why Maimonides did not include them in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah.” I then cited Joseph Ibn Caspi in support of this statement. Here is the page from Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113.

What I would add here is the interesting point that Ibn Caspi, Commentary on Guide 2:32, actually concludes that the Mishneh Torah’s formulation is in line with Maimonides’ true view, namely, that prophecy is a completely natural phenomenon which will of necessity occur if someone has both the ability and training. On the hand, he thinks that the view expressed in Guide 2:32 as being the “opinion of our Law and foundation of our doctrine”, namely, that God might prevent a prophet from prophesying, is not Maimonides’ true opinion, but is an example of the famous “seventh contradiction”.

Grossman is also mistaken when he writes, “In Moreh Nevuchim [2:32], Rambam argues—in opposition to the philosophers—that prophecy is only activated proactively by God, even if the requisite conditions are met.” Maimonides actually says the exact opposite of this. He states that the Torah view of prophecy is identical to the philosophic view except that God can choose, if He wishes, to prevent someone from prophesying even though according to nature he would be a prophet. This is the opposite of what Grossman states, that “prophecy is only activated proactively by God.”

Pp. 176-177: I stated that the notion that Maimonides changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment among the Principles was suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm. To this Grossman replies that Maimonides did not withdraw his belief in Reward and Punishment. It is just that in the Mishneh Torah he classified things differently. Again, Grossman misunderstands. I never said that Maimonides rejected the idea of Reward and Punishment. I was only referring to whether it should be included as part of the Thirteen Principles. As R. Solomon of Chelm explains, Maimonides’ later understanding is that Reward and Punishment is included as part of other principles and thus does not need to be listed separately.

Pp. 177-178. Grossman claims that I cite R. Avraham Hochman in an improper way, and in response R. Hochman states that the entire theme of his sefer “is to show that Rambam’s Principles are absolute and that he derived all of the Thirteen Principles from the Talmud.” He also is quoted as saying, “Academics often quote a question and forget that for the wise, the question is half the answer. But the professors stick to the question and don’t wait around for the answer.” Grossman then speaks of my “brazenness of citing a recognized authority to promote a position that the author himself openly rejects.”

I don’t know if R. Hochman reads English, and could see what I actually wrote, or if he only is responding to what Grossman told him. Either way, his letter, published at the end of Grossman’s article, is a complete distortion of my position. Leaving aside the particular examples that people can see, look at this characterization:

ולפי הבנה מוטעית זו שפך חמתו על הרמב“ם מנין לו לחדש הלכה שאינה במשנה . . .

Talk about describing a writer inaccurately!

And what is one to make of this statement from him?

אין שום חולק על עיקר מיסודי הדת אלא שנחלקו על מספר העיקרים

It is precisely against such a false view that I wrote my book in the first place. A typical response to the book has been that the opinions in opposition to Maimonides are “not accepted.” But here he denies that anyone actually disagrees with any of Maimonides’ principles. With such an outlook, we can’t even begin to have a dialogue.

The following paragraphs are what I quoted from R. Hochman. Nothing I quote here has any connection to what Grossman states or what R. Hochman writes in his letter responding to my supposed incorrect conclusions that I derived from his words. As the reader can see, contrary to what R. Hochman states, I mention not just his question but his answer as well. Of all of Grossman’s criticisms this one is very difficult to understand, because there is nothing at all controversial in what I write, and my summary of R. Hochman is accurate.

As for my wondering why the Principles are not listed together as a unit, which Grossman sees as an illustration of how I am unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah, let me begin by repeating what I wrote in my last post: R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, on the very first page of his commentary Mishnat Yaakov to Sefer ha-Madda, also wonders about the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. (Had I known this when I wrote my book, I certainly would have cited it.)

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמב“ם בספרו ה”יד החזקה” את הענין הזה של י“ג עיקרי האמונה, וצ”ע

R. Avraham Menahem Hochman writes:

מאחר וכל כך חמורה הכפירה, וגדולה החובה לדעת את י”ג העיקרים, כיצד זה השמיטם מספרו ה”יד החזקה”, ולא כתבם כפי שסדרם בפירוש המשנה

והנה אחר שהתבאר שהאמונה בי”ג העיקרים היא בסיס לתורה נשוב לשאלה הרביעית (בסוף פרק ה’) אשר לכאורה היא פליאה עצומה מדוע השמיט הרמב”ם ביד החזקה את החובה הגדולה להאמין בי”ג עיקרים, באופן חיובי, ולא סדרם כי”ג יסודי האמונה שחובה להאמין בהם

R. Hochman goes on to explain that most of the Principles are indeed mentioned in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah in a positive sense (even if not as a unit of Thirteen Principles). He also notes the following important point, that when principles of faith are mentioned in the Talmud, they are never listed in a positive sense, that one must believe X. Rather, they are listed in a negative sense, that one who denies X has no share in the World to Come. Why Maimonides, in his Commentary on the Mishnah, chose to formulate the Principles in a positive sense and require active belief as a necessity for all Jews—something the Talmud never explicitly required—is an interesting point which we will come back to. Regarding some of the Principles the difference is clear. For example, according to the Talmud, denial of Resurrection is heresy, but one who has never heard of the Resurrection and thus does not deny it, or affirm it, is a Jew in good standing. For Maimonides, however, the doctrine of Resurrection must be positively affirmed. In a future post we can come back to which Principles even the Talmud implicitly requires positive affirmation of (obviously number 1, belief in God, but there could be others as well).

After reading these paragraphs, please look at Grossman’s article, pp. 177-178, and R. Hochman’s letter, pp. 188-191, and you will see that nothing there has any connection to what I actually say when referring to R. Hochman. I simply cite him to show that the question I asked is not an ignorant one, as Grossman stated. I also cite R. Hochman’s answer. So Grossman’s seizing on this and printing a lengthy letter from R. Hochman is nothing short of bizarre.

Pp. 178-179. Grossman writes:

Things really start to go “off the rails” when we examine Shapiro’s claim in the name of R. Shlomo Fisher, zatzal, that one need not accept Mosaic authorship, that the Rambam abandoned his principles, and that “Rambam’s formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief was far from universally accepted.”

Grossman responds that he found these attributions questionable so he checked with the family and students, and “they were horrified that anyone would be using R. Fisher’s name in this way.”

What exactly did I say that Grossman finds so objectionable? In Limits of Orthodox Theology, p, 126, I quote the following sentence from R. Bezalel Naor, Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (Spring Valley, 1999), p. 8: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor tells us that he heard this insight from his teacher, R. Shlomo Fisher. (Anyone needing any indication of the high regard that R. Fisher held R. Naor in can examine their published correspondence.)

Grossman sees this as a radical statement whose authenticity he cannot accept. I don’t think readers of this blog will find it radical at all. In fact, I have elsewhere mentioned that R. Fisher made this statement in discussing R. Judah he-Hasid’s view on the authorship of the Torah, which diverges from Maimonides’ Eighth Principle. Contrary to Grossman, in none of my posts did I quote R. Fisher as saying that one need not accept Mosaic authorship. I simply cited his view about R. Judah he-Hasid. I also quoted his opinion that medieval Ashkenazic authorities had a different view on the matter of complete Mosaic authorship than Maimonides in that they did not regard the assumption that there are post-Mosaic verses in the Torah as heretical (a view also argued by Prof. Haym Soloveitchik, see here). Grossman claims that R. Fisher could not have said this, even though students can testify to him having said it. In fact, I can state right here that I too heard him make this distinction.

The final point that Grossman can’t accept is what I mentioned in 2007 here, from a student who attended R. Fisher’s weekly shiur on Avnei Miluim. “Interestingly enough, he reported to me that a few weeks ago R. Fisher declared that he believes the Rambam abandoned his system of 13 Principles, the proof being that they are never mentioned as a unit in the Mishneh Torah. In my book, I noted that R. Shlomo Goren held the same view.” Grossman summarizes my statement as “the Rambam abandoned his principles,” which would lead the reader to think that I was saying that the Rambam no longer accepted the truth of his 13 Principles, which would indeed be a radical position. But what I was really talking about, and I refer to this approach in my book, is the notion that the Rambam no longer accepted a system of 13 Principles. This would mean that he adopted another model to categorize the essential dogmas of Judaism, or as R. Goren suggested, maybe he later advocated a conception of Jewish theology like that held by Abarbanel, that one should not distinguish between so-called principles of Judaism and other aspects of the religion, since all must be regarded as equal.

When all is said and done, nothing I have attributed to R. Fisher is strange, radical, or unbelievable. Why Grossman would be horrified by what I wrote is anyone’s guess.

Grossman quotes from a 2018 letter put out by R. Fisher (some might say, put out by his family). In the letter, R. Fisher writes that no one is to quote anything he said in matters of Aggadah and hashkafah without the approval of his sons. This was because in the past he had been misquoted. We all know that misquoting of gedolim is nothing new. There are numerous examples of particular great rabbis being quoted as saying contradictory things, and of these rabbis stating that no one should believe anything they hear in their names unless they hear it directly from the rabbi. Yet this has never stopped people from quoting the gedolim and never will. This is simply the nature of the world. 

R. Fisher gave thousands of shiurim (a tiny percentage of them are online) and there are thousands of students who heard words of Torah from him. As with all students, they have repeated, and will continue to repeat, that which they heard from the rav, just like all students do. They have been doing this for at least fifty years. If R. Fisher’s letter means what it says, that no one is to repeat things that R. Fisher said, then this is simply an impossible request, and it also seems unprecedented in Torah history. It would mean that one who listens to a shiur from him dealing with non-halakhic matters, e.g., this one here, is not allowed to repeat any insights he heard. It would also mean that much of what was mentioned at the many eulogies, where people recalled things R. Fisher said, or on sites such as this and this, is inappropriate. It would mean that students are not allowed to repeat that which they heard from their rebbe. I don’t see how this is possible.

P. 179. Here is something that is really comical. Take a look at this page.

Grossman states that I mention that Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto) claims that Ibn Ezra believed in post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. He writes: “Upon checking the source, we find yet another instance of Dr. Shapiro citing an author as believing something he actually vociferously denies. As Shadal points out, the primary source for this take on Ibn Ezra was the noted heretic Baruch Spinoza.”

I say this is comical since Grossman doesn’t have a clue as to what is going on here. The only way I can explain this is that Grossman merely skimmed the passage and thus misread it.

Shadal rejects Spinoza who (intentionally?) misunderstood Ibn Ezra to be hinting to the notion that Moses was not the author of the Torah.[6] This misinterpretation of Ibn Ezra is what Shadal rejects (and this is not mentioned in my book because it has nothing to do with what I was discussing). However, exactly as I said, Shadal also states that Ibn Ezra believed in certain post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. Here is the page in Shadal that I cited (as well as the subsequent page) so everyone can see it with their own eyes.

Shadal’s outlook in this matter is no secret, and he repeats this point elsewhere. See e.g., Mehkerei ha-Yahadut, vol. 2, p. 195:

מה שכתב ראב”ע ברמז, היות בתורה מקראות שנוספו בה אחר כמה דורות

In Iggerot Shadal, vol. 2, p. 246, he writes:

כי סברתו שיש בתורה מקראות נוספים קשה מדעת זולתו שקצת מלות מוטעות

In my book and subsequent posts I have identified around forty medieval and more recent authorities who share Shadal’s viewpoint in this matter.[7] Incidentally, R. Joseph Kafih, in his first work written when he was seventeen years old, attacks Shadal for attributing this view to Ibn Ezra. See Sihat Dekalim (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 90.

I must also note that Grossman does not simply miss Shadal’s meaning, but he also compares me to Spinoza in trying to ensnare the unsuspecting masses. If this wasn’t so comical, I might actually take offense. But I think readers should wonder how an author could say such a thing, and how a journal could publish it. It is simply beyond belief, made all the more absurd since Grossman is so mistaken about what Shadal actually states.

Incidentally, since we are talking about Shadal, it is worth noting that R. Elijah Benamozegh, whose commentaries on the Torah continuously dispute with Shadal, when it comes to Ibn Ezra and post-Mosaic additions, Benamozegh has the same position as Shadal. Here is what he writes in Ha-Levanon, July 3, 1872, p. 351, now easily available in the new edition of Em la-Mikra: Bereshit (Haifa, 2021), p. 114:

בראש ספר דברים ובמקומות אחרים רומז בעיניו מולל באצבעותיו ועל דלתות השער יתאו לרמוז שיש דברים בתורה נוספים ולא משה כתבם רק נביאים וצופים. ואני הפרתי את עצתו וקלקלתי את מחשבתו

P. 181. “Shapiro’s weakest scholarship appears when discussing kabbalistic matters.” I agree, which is why I try not to discuss these matters. If I do have to deal with them, I only rely on what recognized authorities have said,

P. 182. I wrote that according to Maimonides’ Seventh Principle, Moses was the greatest prophet who ever lived and there will never be a prophet as great as him in the future. Grossman says that I am mistaken, and that Maimonides does not declare that Moses was the greatest prophet, only that he was the “father of all prophets.” This statement is astounding. There are hundreds of discussions of the Seventh Principle in traditional rabbinic literature, and as far as I know they all agree with what I have written. The entire basis of the Seventh Principle is that Moses was greater than all other prophets. Maimonides states explicitly in the principle that “All are below him in rank . . . He reached a greater understanding of God than any man who ever existed or will ever exist.” This is so obvious that I do not want to spend any more time on it. It is only a mystery how Grossman could say something so wrong, and I do not know of anyone else who has ever written on this principle and made such a mistake (which Maimonides regards as heresy). Did no one from the editorial board of Dialogue read the article before publication? It is nothing short of incredible that an issue of Dialogue includes the false claim that there is no principle of faith to believe that Moses was the greatest prophet in Jewish history.

In addition to his explicit assertion that Moses was the greatest prophet, Maimonides does have an interesting formulation, stating that Moses is the father of all the prophets who preceded him and all who came after him. How can one be the “father” of those who came before him? R. Hayyim Dov Moshe Halpern explains it well[8]:

“אב” הכונה במעלה ולכן שייך לומר שהוא אב גם למי שקדם לו

Here are some passages from other authors whose books are found in my library. They all explain the principle correctly.

R. Yochanan Meir Bechhoffer writes[9]:

רבינו השווה את האמונה בעליונות משה רבינו על הנביאים הקודמים לו, לאמונה בעליונותו של הבאים אחריו. ואף כי אמת היא, שכך נחתמת התורה, לא קם כמשה וגו’, מ”מ יש לעיין מה הצורך בזה. נהי דהמאמין שאחר משה בא נביא גדול ממנו שיכול לבטל דבריו, כפר בנבואת משה, אך מה הסתירה לנבואת משה בחשבה שמי שקדם לו היתה גדול ממנו, הלוא הנביא הקדום לא יחדש דבר על פני משה

R. Ben Zion Epstein writes[10]:

ולכן נתנה למשה דוקא, כי היה דבוק כולו באין סוף ב”ה. ולכן היתה מדרגת נבואתו גדולה מכל הנביאים, ושכינה מדברת מתוך גרונו.

R. Avraham Menachem Hochman’s heading to his discussion of the Seventh Principle reads[11]:

להאמין בנבואת משה רבינו שהוא למעלה מכל הנביאים שהיו לפניו ולאחריו

And to mention one classic text (I could mention many more), R. Elchanan Wasserman writes[12]:

והנה בעיקרי הדת שמנה הרמב”ם בפירוש המשניות (פרק חלק) מנה שם עיקר אחד שכל דברי נביאים אמת, ועוד עיקר אחר שנבואת מהרע”ה היתה למעלה מנבואת כל הנביאים

R. Yaakov Weinberg in his Fundamentals and Faith, pp. 73ff. elaborates on Moses’ “prophetic superiority” (p. 81)

And finally, R. Yehudah Meir Keilson’s new edition of Kisvei ha-Rambam (which I encourage everyone to acquire), affirms my point (which as mentioned, is simply what Maimonides himself explicitly says, so it is not a question of how to interpret him).

Keilson, p. 82: “The Seventh Principle teaches that the nature of Moshe’s prophecy is unparalleled. . . . Rambam elaborates on Moshe’s prophetic superiority, which was the result of his moral and intellectual perfection.”

Keilson, p. 82 n. 1. “The title ‘father of all the prophets’ . . . Rambam takes this to refer to Moshe’s superiority in prophecy to that of all other prophets.”

Keilson, p. 154: “Rambam uses the expression that Moshe was the ‘father of all prophets’ to signify that he was the greatest of all prophets – that the level of his prophecy was superior to that of any prophet who ever was or who ever will be.”

Pp. 184-185. None of this makes any sense, and what Prof. Menachem Kellner writes has no relevance what I was referring to. I asked a simple question, which I later found that others asked as well (see here): Why does the Rambam not specify that future converts are to be instructed in the 13 Principles?

Coming next: Reviews of books by Benji Levy and Eitam Henkin, and an unknown article by R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

* * * * * * *

הוא האיש אשר שם את הרמב”ם סיר רחצו, ועל הראב”ע השליך נעלו

R. Yudel Rosenberg, R. Mordechai Elefant, and Sexual Abuse

Marc B. Shapiro

1. Many readers of the Seforim Blog are aware of R. Yudel Rosenberg, the fascinating talmid chacham and posek who for some reason was also drawn to forgeries. Ira Robinson has recently authored a complete biography of Rosenberg, A Kabbalist in Montreal: The Life and Times of Rabbi Yudel Rosenberg. This wonderful book is certainly deserving of a complete review on the Seforim Blog, but here I would just like to comment on a criticism of me.

On p. 219 Robinson discusses the letter of R. Hayyim Hezekiah Medini that Rosenberg included in his Sha’arei Zohar Torah.

The letter of Rabbi Medini as published by Yudel Rosenberg has been challenged as a forgery by Rabbi Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, David Zvi Hillman, and Marc B. Shapiro on the grounds that some linguistic elements of the letter are foreign to Rabbi Medini’s style and may well have come from the pen of Rabbi Rosenberg.

In the note to this passage, Robinson refers to my Seforim Blog post here, where in addition to mentioning the points made by R. Sofer,[1] I write:

Let me also add that the way Medini (=Rosenberg) concludes the forged haskamah is not like any of his other letters, which are included in Iggerot Sedei Hemed (Bnei Brak, 2006). In the authentic letters, before his name Medini always adds הצב”י or הצעיר, which he does not do in the forged haskamah. In his authentic letters, he also never closes them by adding to his name רב ומו”ץ בעיר הקדש חברון. Therefore, there can be no doubt that the letter of approbation sent by Medini to Rosenberg is simply another one of the latter’s forgeries.

Robinson states (p. 219 n. 25):

On one of his points Shapiro is mistaken. He wrote in his blog: “In the authentic letters, before his name Medini always adds ha-tsa’ir, which he does not do in the forged haskamah.” In Yudel Rosenberg’s work, the Medini letter does close with yedido ha-tsair.

Here is the haskamah, and indeed Robinson is correct that הצעיר appears. I can’t explain why I wrote otherwise.[2]

Since we are discussing the forged haskamah, let me add two additional points relating to the final lines. I looked through all the letters in Iggerot Sedei Hemed and in none of them does this expression appear:

כנפשו הטהורה וכנפש ידידו

Furthermore, R. Medini always adds הי“ו or less commonly ס“ט after his name. Both of these are missing here.

While on the topic of forgeries, let me mention something else. In my post here I deal with the notorious forger, Chaim Bloch. One of the forgeries I mention is his creation of an alternate version of שפוך חמתך in the Passover Haggadah. In Bloch’s forgery, instead of “Pour out Your rage upon the nations that do not know You,” followed by more lines beseeching God to destroy the wicked ones, a more universalist formulation is found that begins with שפוך אהבתך. This forgery, which Bloch claims is from a 1561 Worms manuscript, reads as follows:

Pour out Your love on the nations who have known You and on the kingdoms who call upon Your name. For they show loving-kindness to the seed of Jacob, and they defend Your people Israel from those Who would devour them alive. May they live to see the sukkah of peace spread over Your chosen ones, and to participate in the joy of Your nations.

This translation is taken from R. Jonathan Sacks’ Haggadah (The Applebaum Edition), p. 120. Unfortunately, Sacks did not know about the history of Bloch and thought he was dealing with an authentic text. Sacks introduces the phony prayer as follows:

In one manuscript from Worms, 1521, there is a unique addition to the Haggada alongside “Pour out Your rage.” It is a prayer of thanks for the righteous gentiles throughout history who, rather than persecuting Jews, befriended them and protected them at times of danger.

3. Readers of the Seforim Blog might recall that on a few occasions I cited passages from the memoir of the late R. Mordechai Elefant, Rosh Yeshiva of Itri and builder of a vast Torah empire. These were the first times that passages from the memoir that he dictated appeared in print. I was then one of the few people who had a copy of the memoir, and a number of readers can attest that I did not agree to share it with them because I did not have permission from the person who gave it to me. Subsequently, Mishpacha got a copy of it and published some selected (and “touched up”) portions.[3]

In September 2019, R. Pini Dunner[4] published the memoir and you can view it here (Although this site says May 1, 2013, in reality Dunner only uploaded it in 2019.)

Dunner writes:

Rabbi Elefant’s candid memoirs are startling, not just because they reveal much that one would hardly have expected from a top-tier Rosh Yeshiva, but even more because of the very frank revelations he willingly shared regarding the background to his extraordinary life.

I distinctly recall his many sardonic observations about life and people; he was a true iconoclast who had clearly never read the memo about how senior public servants should express themselves, and particularly rabbis. At the same time, he was an extraordinary scholar, who could lecture on any Talmudic topic, without prior warning, to discerning peers and students, dazzling them with both his vast knowledge and his keen intellect.

Those who examine the Elefant memoir will come away shocked that the author was a leading rosh yeshiva. R. Aharon Rakeffet’s response after completing the memoir was that R. Elefant was “fifty percent gadol, fifty percent gangster.”[5] One thing is sure: R. Elefant was one of the most fascinating Torah scholars in recent memory, and there really was no one like him.

Anyone who reads the memoir must wonder why R. Elefant would have wanted himself to be remembered in the way the memoir describes. Certainly, no one whose only exposure to R. Elefant is through his Torah works could imagine the author’s colorful life. In fact, in R. Elefant’s posthumously published Mi-Zahav Mordechai he is described on the title page as שר התורה הגאון האמיתי.

R. Elefant was obviously an unusual person, and as with other writers of memoirs in rabbinic history (e.g., R. Leon Modena, R. Jacob Emden, R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim), he was an independent thinker who did not believe in following the herd. R. Elefant, as with all memoir writers, wanted us to learn about his experiences and views, things we would not know about if we only looked at his yeshiva persona.

I asked R. Nathan Kamenetsky about R. Elefant after I read the memoir, and I gave R. Kamenetsky a copy of it. (R. Kamenetsky worked closely with R. Elefant in Itri). But I did not know R. Elefant, so anything I suggest will be speculation.

When I finished reading the memoir, and was wondering why R. Elefant would want all this unusual information made public, I thought of two possible reasons. The first is pride, to show that one can be a talmudic scholar—and R. Elefant was an authentically great one—and at the same time be “with it”, that is, to be able to travel around the world and have relationships with all sorts of unusual people. Looking at matters this way, the memoir can perhaps be seen as subversive, in that although R. Elefant lived in one world, and had great respect for the rabbis of that world, he also happily lived in another world and wanted to show people how he did it.

The other possibility I thought of is that R. Elefant actually felt guilty about how he lived his life, and the memoir was his way of making matters right, as it were. He was a rosh yeshiva and was therefore given great respect. He was also close to a number of gedolei Yisrael. Perhaps R. Elefant felt uncomfortable in his role, where he was regarded as a שר התורה and a גאון אמיתי, since unlike the other roshei yeshiva and gedolim, his life was not one of “only Torah.” Is it possible that R. Elefant was putting it all out there to set the record straight, that is, to let people know who he really was, because in the end he felt guilty that he was placed in the same category as other roshei yeshiva? Could it be that R. Elefant, who had so many interests and couldn’t be happy spending his life entirely in the beit midrash, felt guilty being compared to the roshei yeshiva and gedolim whose entire lives were focused only on Torah study and spiritual improvement? I can’t help but think that if R. Elefant had children, and was busy raising them, he wouldn’t have had his wanderlust and need for adventure.

R. Elefant himself tells us that in addition to his “lamdan side,” he also has a “shaygetz (irreligious) side” (p. 40). I cannot imagine any other rosh yeshiva saying such a thing about himself. R. Elefant’s “shaygetz side” was not something that most would have known about had he not revealed it, and it is this side of him that people have found shocking. Obviously, R. Elefant knew they would find it shocking, yet he still wished to make it public. My sense is that he was a man of truth, and did not want to pretend. He wanted people to know what he was about, with all of his complexity.

I think it is very telling that after mentioning his “shaygetz side,” R. Elefant adds, “Thank G-d that side of me didn’t manifest itself in my students.” This line shows that, at the end of the day, R. Elefant was not very proud of this side of him, which I think lends credence to my suggestion that the memoir was his way of setting the record straight so that the world not think of him as someone he was not. (A close student of R. Elefant told me he liked this suggestion.) Also noteworthy is that right at the beginning of the memoir, R. Elefant states: “But I don’t kid myself. I know I’m not a spiritual model for my students, nor do I ever make out that I am.” 

Even if I am wrong in discerning R. Elefant’s ultimate motivation, memoirs by their nature provoke thoughts in the reader, and the two suggestions I mention are what the memoir brought to my mind.

There are those who knew R. Elefant who believe that one must distinguish between his younger days, when he was completely engrossed in Torah study, and later in life when he realized that he had a knack for raising money. It was then that he started traveling the world and hanging out with celebrities, politicians, and other colorful characters. Some will regard this as a limud zekhut for the entire bizarre and eye-opening memoir. Others will probably say that while R. Elefant raised a lot of money and built a Torah empire, the toll it took on him, as seen in how he chose to portray himself in his own memoir, shows that it was not worth it.

The copy of the memoir that Dunner placed online has become internationally famous, and you have to love the title he gave it: “An Elephant Never Forgets”. Yet Dunner’s copy is missing the first page, so let me provide it now.

In Dunner’s copy the handwriting on p. 59 can’t be read. Here are pages 58-59 from my copy so you can see the passage in its entirety.

The first thing to note is that R. Elefant’s claim that Saul Lieberman felt that he should have been made chief rabbi, and because he didn’t get this he went to JTS, is completely mistaken (as is much else in the memoir). R. Kook died in 1935 when Lieberman was 37 years old. At that young age he certainly never had any thoughts of becoming chief rabbi. The language “first chief rabbi of Israel” also doesn’t make any sense, as Lieberman left Israel for JTS when it was still Palestine.

Lieberman was actually a big supporter of his friend R. Isaac Herzog’s candidacy for the Chief Rabbinate. (Even when he was in Ireland, R. Herzog was a member of the advisory board of the Harry Fischel Institute which Lieberman headed at the time of R. Kook’s death.[6]) Chaim Herzog writes that his grandfather, R. Samuel Isaac Hillman, and Lieberman “organized a small campaign staff” to support R. Herzog’s election.[7] When R. Herzog was chosen, Lieberman was one of the signatories on the document proclaiming him Chief Rabbi. (I thank the late R. Eitam Henkin for sending me this.)[8]

R. Elefant then refers to R. Avraham Yisrael Moshe Solomon as a noted talmid chacham. Yet he was never a rav in Shanghai and he was not the father of Rabbi Baruch Shimon Solomon of Petah Tikvah. The story dealing with R. Kook, which is a famous one, is also mixed up. What was said to the Brisker Rav—and there are different versions concerning who said it—is that in R. Kook’s eyes all Jews are like family, and that is why he is so friendly with them. The version R. Elefant offers makes no sense, as R. Solomon’s comment to the Brisker Rav does not follow from what the Brisker Rav told him. In the note on the left side of the page, someone added [9]: “By R’ Kook every Yid is מבשרך אל תשעלם.”

The story at the bottom of the second page is unfortunate and does not make R. Elefant look good, as we see that he did not know of the view that one can cook in a keli sheni. This was obviously what Lieberman held, and this was also the view of R. Chaim Soloveitchik and R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. R. Hershel Schachter writes as follows in Nefesh ha-Rav, p. 170:

במשנה ברורה (סי‘ שי“ח ס“ק ל“ט) הביא דעת כמה מן האחרונים להחמיר שלא לעשות תה, אפילו בכלי שני. ורבנו אמר בזה הלשון – שהסבא שלו היה מדקדק במצוות, והיה משתמש בשקיות תה בכלי שני, ואף הוא היה נוהג אחריו להקל בזה ג“כ

The story is also unfortunate as all R. Elefant had to do was ask Lieberman why he was using the tea bag in a keli sheni, and he would have been given the answer. Although one can criticize Lieberman’s association with the Jewish Theological Seminary, it is not every day that one is in the presence of someone with indescribable knowledge of Bavli, Yerushalmi, Tosefta, and Midrash. I would have assumed that R. Elefant would have taken advantage of the time he was with Lieberman for something more constructive than rebuking him.

4. In his recent Seforim Blog post here, Edward Reichman mentions R. Judah Messer Leon and his book Nofet Tzufim which was published in 1475. He also mentions that Nofet Tzufim was the answer to one of my earlier quizzes, where I asked what was the first Hebrew book published in the lifetime of its author. See here. In his post, Reichman discusses another fascinating book, R. Abraham Portaleone’s Shiltei ha-Giborim (Mantua, 1612 [Reichman mistakenly gives the date as 1607]). This book also has the honor of being “a first,” for it was the first Hebrew book to use European punctuation, including the question mark.[10]

5. The Chaim Walder affair has once again brought the issue of sexual abuse to the limelight. It also looks like the fallout from this event, unlike earlier scandals, will have a real impact in the haredi world, as many rabbis really are taking the issue seriously. What is needed is a scholarly study of how rabbis over the years have responded to the issue of sexual abuse. I am not referring to a work designed to condemn the rabbis for not doing enough, but to an academic study that would show how responses have changed over the years, how some rabbis took the matter seriously and other did not, and how with more understanding of the effects of sexual abuse rabbinic attitudes began to change.

One example of the sort of sources that would be used in such a study is R. Elijah Rabinowitz-Teomim (Aderet), Ma’aneh Eliyahu, no. 32. The Aderet deals with a case where a girl was raped by two young Jewish men. Her family wanted to report this to the police so that the rapists would receive a fitting punishment. However, the Aderet tells us that he convinced the family not to make a public issue of the matter, so as to prevent a hillul ha-shem, and to avoid confrontation with dangerous people.

דברתי אל לבם להשקיט הדבר, לבל יתחלל שם ישראל בעמים מהפקרות ופריצות צעירי הנערים, לאנוס ולנאוף ולחלל שבת ולרצוח, וגם יש סכנה בדבר לריב עם עזי פנים כמותם, ושמעו אלי

The first reason, avoidance of hillul ha-shem, certainly remains a significant factor today in the desire to keep matters of sexual abuse from being publicly aired.

Another relevant ruling, which shows how matters were handled in the past by a truly great figure, is found in R. Menachem Mendel Schneersohn (the third Lubavitcher Rebbe), Tzemah Tzedek, Yoreh Deah, no. 237. R. Schneersohn was asked the following question: A rabbi was playing with a נער on Purim and stuck his hands into the pants of the youth. The rabbi claimed that he did so because he (the rabbi) was unable to perform sexually. He thought that this was due to his small testicles, and he wanted to see if he was unusual in this regard. In other words, the rabbi was conducting a medical examination on the youth, and one can only wonder how many other boys were also subjected to this rabbi’s examinations. R. Schneersohn decided that the rabbi should not be removed from his position, as he provided a good explanation for his behavior.

What we see from these responsa (and others can be mentioned) is how much attitudes have changed in modern times. Our response would be very different than that of the Tzemach Tzedek, and I think we all would find the “justification” the abusive rabbi offered to be ludicrous, but that is only because we have been exposed to many things, including crimes perpetrated by trusted religious figures, that people in the Tzemach Tzedek’s day could never have imagined.[10]

6. As this post has discussed forgeries, I must call attention to a bombshell new book with wide-ranging implications by R. Moshe Hillel. It is titled חזון טברימון and makes a strong case that R. Yaakov Moshe Toledano created many forged documents. Often we think of forgers as shady characters, however R. Toledano was a respected rav who held a number of important positions, including Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv. In the election for Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel, he lost to R. Isaac Nissim. R. Toledano was also a posek who authored the responsa volume Yam ha-Gadol.

It is beyond depressing to think that such a distinguished person could have been responsible for numerous forgeries. If Hillel’s claim is found to be accurate, a good of deal of scholarship, which relies on documents published by Toledano, has to be thrown out. This is every scholar’s nightmare, that the conclusions he or she reaches are based on fraudulent information.

Hillel also argues that the location of R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto’s grave in Tiberias, which has become a popular pilgrimage site, is an invention of R. Toledano who created a phony “tradition”. For some initial discussion of Hillel’s book, see here where you can also download the book. Those interesting in purchasing a copy should contact Eliezer Brodt.

7. This summer my Torah in Motion trips resume. You can find information about them here.

8. For those interested in my Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan, copies are still available at Mizrahi Book Store here.

9. Some years ago, I discovered at the University of Scranton a VHS tape of a 1985 lecture from Prof. Isadore Twersky. (I had already known of this lecture, as when I arrived in Scranton one of my colleagues mentioned to me how unusual it was that Twersky sat for his presentation.) I turned the VHS into a DVD, and a few weeks ago I had the tech people at Scranton turn it into a digital file and upload it to the University of Scranton’s YouTube channel. You can see the video here. This is the only video of a Twersky lecture to be found on the internet, and I am sorry that the sound is not so good. I don’t know whose idea it was to set up an Israeli flag next to Twersky as he spoke. If you look at the beginning of the video you can see that Twersky was actually sitting right in front of a cross, so maybe someone thought that a Jewish star was also needed. I know of only one other video where you can hear Twersky speaking, and that is found here where he introduces Chaim Grade.

Quiz

1. In section 4 I mentioned some bibliographical firsts, so for a quiz question I ask the following: Which Hebrew book was the first one to use footnotes (and the footnotes even used Arabic numerals)?

2. For those who would like a different sort of quiz question: Soon it will be Pesach, so please point to a halakhah on Pesach that the Shulhan Arukh decides in accord with the Rosh, while the Rama records the practice in accord with the Rambam and the Rif.

Answers should be sent to me at shapirom2 at scranton.edu 

***********

[1] I did not refer to R. David Zvi Hillman’s letter which appears in Etz Hayyim 10 (5770), p. 379.
[2] As mentioned, Robinson’s book deserves an extensive review, but here is one bibliographical point. On pp. 134ff., Robinson discusses R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach’s correspondence with Rosenberg concerning the halakhic status of electricity. Robinson states that R. Auerbach’s Jan. 8, 1935 letter that strongly criticizes Rosenberg’s approach is unpublished. Yet the letter actually appears in R. Auerbach’s Meorei Esh ha-Shalem (Jerusalem, 5770), pp. 368ff.
[3] Mishpacha, Dec. 18, 2013.
[4] See here. Even before Dunner published the memoir, his copy was circulating and was placed online in June 2019. See here.
[5] Listen here at minute 72.
[6] See Sefer ha-Yovel for Harry Fischel (Jerusalem, 1935), Hebrew section, pp. 11, 20, English section, p. 8.
[7] Chaim Herzog, Living History (New York, 1996), p. 28 (called to my attention by Rabbi Jacob Yellin). According to Chaim Herzog, Lieberman would become his parents’ closest friend. See Elijah J. Schochet and Solomon Spiro, Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work (New York, 2005), p. 52.
[8] In 1935 R. Herzog was a candidate for the chief rabbinate of Tel Aviv. The other candidates were R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik and R. Moshe Avigdor Amiel. It is of interest that the Hazon Ish supported R. Herzog’s candidacy. See Dov Eliach, Be-Sod Siah (Jerusalem, 2018), pp. 258-259. One might have expected R. Meir Berlin (Bar-Ilan), the great Mizrachi leader (and Lieberman’s father-in-law), to have supported R. Herzog or R. Amiel as they were both leading figures in Mizrachi, while R. Soloveitchik had no Mizrachi connections at this time. Yet because of his familial connection to R. Soloveitchik, Berlin put his support behind him. In a Nov. 10, 1935, letter from R. Herzog to Lieberman, R. Herzog writes as follows regarding the lack of support from Berlin, whom he calls מנהיגנו הנערץ והאהוב:

 

אין בלבי שום תרעומות עליו כי סוף סוף הרב הנ“ל הוא קרובו ובל תדין את חבירך וכו‘, ועוד כי בודאי עשה מה שעשה בלב שלם וטהור מתוך הכרתו הפנימית

You can see the letter here where a number of letters from the Lieberman archive have been uploaded. The source of these letters is not indicated, which means that they were not uploaded in accordance with the regulations of the Jewish Theological Seminary Library.
[9] תשעלם should be written תתעלם, and the passage comes from Isaiah 58:7. The verse actually has לא instead of אל. Yet a number of early rabbinic sources cite the verse with the word אל, so this was probably found in their texts. Indeed, critical editions of the book of Isaiah (Kittel, C.D. Ginsburg) report that many manuscripts have אל. Yet it is interesting that even though the verse appears with לא in every Tanakh printed today, rabbinic authors continue to cite the verse with אל. In fact, the Tolna Rebbe makes a big deal about how the first letters of מבשרך אל תתעלם spell אמת. See Tanḥumekha Yesha’ash’u Nafshi: Tolna (Jerusalem, 2004), pp. 235, 405, 506, 698.
[10] See Cecil Roth, The Jews in the Renaissance (Philadelphia, 1959), p. 315.
[11] R. Solomon ben Adret, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rashba, vol. 1, no. 571(b), deals with a case where a woman accused her husband, who was also a rabbi, of: 1. sexually abusing their son, 2. having sexual relations with his slave, 3. being a heretic. However, in this case it is not clear that the woman was to be believed, as she made the accusations as part of her dispute with her husband. Things got so bad that she hired a non-Jew to bring her accusations before the government, knowing that if she was believed her husband would be burned. (She clearly wanted to get rid of him for good.) This case is discussed by Norman Roth, Jews, Visigoths and Muslims in Medieval Spain (Leiden, 1994), pp. 195-196.

 Response to Criticism Part 4; Rabbi Zvi Yehuda and the Hazon Ish

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.

1. In Limits,p. 14 n. 55, I write

I should call attention to a significant philosophical and halakhic point which appears to have gone unnoticed. The Vilna Gaon (R. Elijah b. Solomon Zalman (1720-97) apparently believed that the First and Second Principles are the only true Principles in Judaism. According to him, one who believes in God’s existence and unity, despite his other sins, is regarded as a Jew in good standing and he is thus able to be included in a minyan (quorum for public prayer). None of the numerous discussions regarding whether a Sabbath violator maybe in included in a minyan seems to have taken note of the Gaon’s comment, which appears in his commentary on Tikunei Zohar, 42a.

Grossman writes:

Apparently, concludes Shapiro, since the Gaon cites only idolatry as invalidating prayer and does not cite the rest of the Thirteen Principles, he is disputing Rambam’s classification of the others as binding fundamentals. However, this source has no bearing on the Principles. The Gaon’s comment refers to counting one for a minyan and to having one’s prayer accepted by God. He is clearly not referring to the Principles, since [in his commentary to Tikunei Zohar] he includes in the metaphor of the scorpion the sin of consorting with gentile women, which is unrelated to any Principle. (p. 48)

The first thing to note is that I never said that the Vilna Gaon disputed “the Rambam’s classification of the others [other Principles] as binding fundamentals.” Of course the Gaon held that people must believe that there is prophecy, that God gave the Torah, that there will be a Messiah, etc. But that is not what I am referring to when I say that for the Gaon the First and Second Principles are the only true Principles in Judaism. As I explain, for the Rambam the Thirteen Principles are special in that if you deny any of them you are to be regarded as having removed yourself from the Jewish people. When the Gaon makes the fascinating comment that belief in the First and Second Principles are enough to be regarded as part of the Jewish people, thus enabling one to be counted in a minyan, this means that as far as he is concerned (in this passage at least), only these beliefs qualify as Principles in the absolute sense that denial of them removes you halakhically from the Jewish people. If I were writing the book today, I would say that the Gaon focuses on three Principles, since he includes belief in the unity of God and an affirmation of God’s corporeality (Principle no. 3) certainly violates God’s unity.

I have to say, however, that while the Gaon’s comment is of great importance when it comes to the issue of Sabbath violation, I am no longer sure about the correctness of my larger point. It could just as well be that when the Gaon derives from the passage in Tikunei Zohar that if you believe in God and His unity, despite your other sins, you are still a Jew in good standing, it does not necessarily mean that these are the only true Principles. It could be that he is merely explicating the meaning of the passage in Tikunei Zohar, which relates to God, but that if it was a different passage he could have spoken about different principles, for example, as long as you believe in the Messiah and the resurrection even if you sin you are still a Jew in good standing. Here is some of what the Gaon writes:

כ”ז שמאמין באחדותו ית’ אפי’ עובר כמה עבירות אינו מומר לכל התורה ואעפ”י שחטא ישראל הוא ומצטרף למנין כמ”ש עבריין כו’ ונכלל תפלתו בכלל ישראל . . . אבל עקרב הוא המודה בעבודת כוכבים ומשתחוה לאל אחר וכן בבת אל נכר אז הקוץ ח”ו מסתלק מצדו וזהו פירוד הגמור וז”ש ואיהו פוסק וברח כו’ ר”ל יוסף במדרגתו ומסתלק הקב”ה ממנו כלל וכלל ואין תפלתו עולה כלל

In the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, the Rambam says that if you believe that God has a physical form you are a heretic, and Rabad famously defends those who did not know any better. According to Rabad, although these people are wrong they are certainly not heretics because of their mistake. Regarding this dispute there is R. Hayyim Soloveitchik’s famous statement in defense of the Rambam’s position that “one who is nebech an epikores is still an epikores.”[1]

In Limits I referred to the Hazon Ish’s opinion that the Rambam actually agrees with Rabad when dealing with a heretic who does not know any better. I further note, in agreement with R. Hayyim, that the Hazon Ish’s suggestion cannot be correct, and the Rambam, Guide 1:36, specifically rejects the Hazon Ish’s point. In fact, R. Kafih thinks that the Rambam saw Rabad’s criticism of what he wrote in the Mishneh Torah, and the end of Guide 1:36 was written in response to Rabad and is the Rambam’s defense of his position that faulty education or simply ignorance is no defense when it comes to belief in God’s corporeality.[2] In truth, even if we did not have this chapter of the Guide, the Hazon Ish’s position cannot be sustained, as it is in opposition to the Rambam’s entire conception of immortality which is a natural process. Thus, there is no room to raise questions about “fairness” or why does God not judge an ignorant person mercifully and grant him a share the World to Come if through no fault of his own he believes that God has a physical form.

Grossman, on the other hand (p. 49), claims that a close reading of the Guide supports the Hazon Ish’s position that someone who does not know any better, and who has no one to teach him, is not to be regarded as a heretic. Suffice it to say all scholars of the philosophy of the Rambam agree with R. Hayyim in this matter. Furthermore, the issue is not whether we regard someone as a heretic or not. There could be societal reasons that determine whether or not one is to be regarded as such. The dispute between the Rambam and Rabad is regarding someone who doesn’t know any better and denies a principle of faith, does such a person have a share in the World to Come? It is clear, as Rabad recognized, that according to the Rambam the answer is no. That is why I wrote that when the Hazon Ish explained the Rambam to really be agreeing with Rabad—that an unwitting heretic has a share in the World to Come—that this approach should be seen as in opposition to the Rambam’s position, even though the Hazon Ish was offering his approach as an interpretation of the Rambam.[3]

Grossman then writes (p. 49 n. 65): “In another example of the same hubris towards a giant of Torah scholarship, Shapiro, on p. 37, asserts that the Chazon Ish’s acceptance of Torah She-be’al Peh as having Divine authority (Iggeros 1:16 [should be 15]) is disputing Rambam. Chazon Ish there is merely emphasizing Rambam’s Eighth Principle, but Shapiro claims that Chazon Ish actually ‘added a new dogma.’”

The reader who turns to my book, p. 37, will find that contrary to what Grossman states, I do not mention anything about Torah she-be’al peh. The issue I was concerned with is the authority of Aggadah. In one of his most often quoted letters (Kovetz Iggerot Hazon Ish, 1:15), the Hazon Ish writes that all aggadot have their origin in the sages’ prophetic power, and one who denies this is a heretic.

משרשי האמונה שכל הנאמר בגמ’ בין במשנה ובין בגמ’ בין בהלכה ובין באגדה, הם הם הדברים שנתגלו לנו ע”י כח נבואי שהוא כח נשיקה של השכל הנאצל, עם השכל המורכב בגוף . . . נרתעים אנחנו לשמוע הטלת ספק בדברי חז”ל בין בהלכה בין באגדה, כשמועה של גידוף ר”ל, והנוטה מזה הוא לפי קבלתנו ככופר בדברי חז”ל, ושחיטתו נבילה, ופסול לעדות, ועוד, ולכן נגעו דבריך בלבי

Incidentally, in the published version of the letter it has

והנוטה מזה הוא לפי קבלתנו ככופר כדברי חז”ל

Here is the section of the actual letter of the Hazon Ish where you can see that it should read ככופר בדברי חז”ל.

Searching on Otzar haChochma, I see that almost everyone who cites this passage corrects the printing error.

It is with regard to this statement about aggadah, and this statement alone, that I spoke of a new dogma—which can perhaps already be seen in the Maharal if not earlier—that is not held by the Rambam who, together with the entire geonic and medieval Sephardic rabbinic tradition, did not have such a view about the binding nature of all aggadot. The reader of Grossman’s article who does not examine my book would think that I claimed that the Rambam did not believe that Torah she-be’al Peh has divine authority. Yet the difference of opinion between the Rambam and the Hazon Ish is over a different matter, namely, what is included in Torah she-be’al Peh. In fact, this is not really a dispute between the Rambam and the Hazon Ish, but a dispute between two traditions regarding how to understand Aggadah.

Incidentally, in the Hazon Ish’s letter just mentioned, in discussing the difference between prophecy and ruah ha-kodesh, he says something directly in opposition to the Rambam’s view.

אבל יש הבדל יסודי בין נבואה לרוה”ק. נבואה, אין השכל המורכב של האדם משתתף בה, אלא אחרי התנאים הסגוליים שנתעלה בהם עד שזכה לזוהר נבואי, אפשר לו להיות לכלי קולט דעת. . . , מבלי עיון ועמל שכלי, אבל רוה”ק היא יגיעת העיון ברב עמל ובמשנה מרץ, עד שמתוסף בו דעת ותבונה בלתי טבעי

In the published version of the letter there are three periods after the word דעת which I have underlined in. Usually when there are three periods it means that something has been removed from the letter, but in this case nothing has been removed. In fact, in the original letter there are only two periods, followed by a comma, and I don’t know why the Hazon Ish used these periods.

Continuing with Grossman, he sees it as obvious that the Hazon Ish’s opinion regarding an unwitting heretic is exactly what the Rambam held, and in support of this he points to Hilkhot Mamrim 3:1-3. Here the Rambam states that Karaites, who were raised with heretical beliefs and don’t know any better, are not to be judged like the original Karaite heretics who consciously rejected the Oral Law. With those who don’t know any better the Rambam counsels “not to rush to kill them,” but to draw them close to Torah with words of peace. (The words “not to rush to kill them” were removed from some printings.)

Does this passage have any relevance to the Rambam’s view of unintentional heresy? The answer is no, as here the Rambam is only counseling tolerance when dealing with Karaites who don’t know any better. He is only concerned with how we should relate to them. Rather than hating them and hoping for their destruction, which is normally the case with regard to heretics, the Rambam tells us that we should relate to the Karaites in a positive way and attempt to convince them to abandon their mistaken path. However, from the theological perspective, a heretic has no share in the World to Come and cannot be exculpated based on the argument that he does not know any better. I make this argument in Limits, p. 12, and it is also affirmed by R. Chaim Rapoport.[4]

Not only is this the peshat in the Rambam, but no other understanding works within the context of his philosophical system. That is, the Rambam’s entire philosophical understanding of the World to Come does not work with the notion that an unwitting heretic can also have a share in the World to Come. Any interpretations that assume otherwise are simply not in line with the Rambam’s approach, an approach that was well understood by both his supporters and opponents who argued at great length about this matter. It was also recognized by R. Hayyim who knew the Guide of the Perplexed well. R. Velvel, in discussing the passage in Hilkhot Mamrim pointed to by Grossman, stated exactly what I have just explained. Here are his words as quoted by R. Moshe Sternbuch[5]:

.הרי מפורש בדבריו [הרמב”ם] דמה שהוא אנוס מועיל רק לענין שראוי להחזירם בתשובה ולמשכם לחזור לאיתן התורה, אבל כל זמן שלא חזרו הם מומרים באונס, ושמם מומרים ואפיקורסים

If I were to argue in the fashion of Grossman, I could say that by asserting that the Hazon Ish is simply following what the Rambam says in Hilkhot Mamrim, that Grossman shows disrespect to R. Hayyim and R. Velvel, by not even seeing their positions as worthy of discussion.

There is a parallel to what we have been discussing elsewhere in the Mishneh Torah. In Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 2:5 the Rambam states that the repentance of heretics (minim) is never accepted. Yet in Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:14 the Rambam states that heretics who repent have a share in the World to Come. The Rambam was asked about this apparent contradiction and he replied that indeed there is no contradiction.[6] In Hilkhot Avodah Zarah he is speaking about how the Jewish community is to relate to heretics. As far as the community is concerned, even if a heretic repents the community is not to accept him, as one can never be sure that his repentance is authentic. However, Hilkhot Teshuvah is referring to the heretic’s relationship with God. As far as God is concerned, a true repentance is always accepted. (I don’t know of anyone today who accepts the Rambam’s opinion in this matter. If, say, a leading atheist philosopher or Reform rabbi decided to become Orthodox, not only would the community accept him, but people would make a very big deal of this and he would become a sought-after speaker at Orthodox synagogues.)

Grossman writes:

In an attempt to list various authorities who took issue with Maimonides, Shapiro tells us that “[i]n Abarbanel’s mind, only limited attention . . . should be paid to Maimonides’ early formulation of dogma, and it would certainly be improper to make conclusions about his theological views on the basis of a text designed for beginners.” (p. 50)

My citing of Abarbanel on p. 7 of my book has nothing to do with authorities who took issue with Maimonides. The mention of Abarbanel is with reference to my discussion about how the Thirteen Principles do not appear as a unit in the Mishneh Torah or the Guide, and in this regard I cited Abarbanel who writes as follows in Rosh Amanah, ch. 23:

This explains why he did not list these principles in the Guide, in which he investigated deeply into the faith of the Torah, but mentioned them rather in his Commentary on the Mishnah, which he wrote in his youth. He postulated the principles for the masses, and for beginners in the study of Mishnah, but not for those individuals who plumbed the knowledge of truth for whom he wrote the Guide.

Following his misunderstanding of my point, Grossman spends the next page explaining that Abarbanel accepts the truth of the Rambam’s Principles, a fact that I never denied. However, Abarbanel also believes that for the most profound understanding of the Rambam’s theological views, one needs to turn to the Guide. As I mention in the book, pp. 32-33, Abarbanel also does not accept the Maimonidean concept of Principles of Faith.

Regarding the Rambam positing Thirteen Principles of Faith, which I claimed is a novelty of the Rambam, let me cite R. Moses Sofer who says exactly this.[7]

י”ג העיקרים המציא הרמב”ם שהוא היה הממציא הראשון בזה, ואשר לפנים לא ידענום

Grossman’s final comment in the first half of his review is as follows (p. 52):

Another example of Shapiro’s proofs that Rambam’s theology differs from one work to another is the following. In his Commentary on the Mishna, Rambam states that “lack of belief in any of the Principles makes one a heretic.” [Quotation from Limits, p. 8] Yet, in his Mishneh Torah, he writes (Shapiro’s translation): “Whoever permits the thought to enter his mind that there is another deity besides God violates a prohibition, as it is said: You shall have no other gods before me . . . and denies the essence of religion – this doctrine being the great principle on which everything depends.”

This proves, says Shapiro, that one is not considered a heretic for such thoughts since the Rambam does not say that one who holds these beliefs is a heretic. However, the very source he adduces clearly says the opposite. The words kofer be-ikar,[8] used by the Rambam in this quotation, are a synonym for “heretic,” even according to Shapiro’s rendition of the words as one who “denies the essence of religion.”

If the Rambam writes that recognition of God as the source of all existence is a Principle upon which all of Judaism stands, it is obviously a Principle of faith.

I don’t think that anyone who reads these paragraphs will have a clue as to what my point was. What I noted is that in the Commentary on the Mishnah, in discussing Principles of Faith, Maimonides speaks of belief (or knowledge, depending on how you translate). This is a mental state. However, in Hilkhot Teshuvah, in discussing what makes someone a heretic, Maimonides writes: “One who says”.[9] In other words, he speaks of verbalizing one’s heresy publicly, not simply belief. If all we had was Hilkhot Teshuvah, one could conclude that even one who has heretical ideas, but conducts himself as a good Jew publicly, does not lose his share in the World to Come.

In the book I then turned to Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 1:6 which speaks about one who imagines that there is another God, and by doing so denies the essence of Judaism. A similar comment can be found in Hilkhot Ishut 8:6 where the Rambam writes: “For the sin of idol worship is so great that even when a person thinks of serving [idols] in his heart [without acting upon it] he is considered wicked.” I noted that while a person who believes something heretical like this has, in his mind, denied the essence of Judaism, as long as his heresy is not publicly voiced he apparently is not to be regarded as a complete heretic with all the communal implications this implies. (For example, if you found someone’s private diary which revealed that he denied certain basic principles of faith, as far as the community is concerned he would apparently remain a Jew in good standing as he never publicized his heresy. But he would still have no share in the World to Come.)

It is clear that the Rambam believes that one who affirms a heretical doctrine loses his share in the World to Come, no matter what the reason he does so. But we need to ask why the Rambam specifically uses the formulation of “one who says”. The easiest answer is that he was simply adopting, and making wider use of, the language found in the Mishnah, Sanhedrin 10:1, which also categorizes two types of heresy by using the expression “one who says.”

It makes sense to assume that only one who publicly verbalizes his heresy is to be treated as a heretic by the larger community, but despite the language in the Mishnah, I think many will still wonder why in Hilkhot Teshuvah, which speaks of losing one’s share in the World to Come, Maimonides also uses the language “One who says.” I don’t have an answer to this question. All I did in the book was note that the Rambam’s formulation in the Mishneh Torah is different than what he writes in the Commentary on the Mishnah. Although I have found some rabbinic discussions of this problem, I am surprised that none of the major commentaries take up the issue of why the Rambam uses the word האומר in defining heresy. It seems that they would agree with R. Uri Tieger[10] who writes:

לאו דוקא האומר אלא אפי’ חושב כן ולא מוציא בפיו

It is noteworthy, though, that immediately following these words R. Tieger offers an alternative approach which speaks to the very point I was discussing

וי”א דאף דכל הני שרשי איסורם הוא במחשבה מ”מ לא נחתם עונם עד כדי שיקראו מינים ואפיקורסים עד שיוציאו הדברים בפיהם

R. Avraham Gottesman also raises the issue, and he too sees the Rambam’s formulation in the Mishneh Torah as possibly significant.[11]

‘האומר . . . הרי שלא הזכיר גם שם ממחשבה. ואולי תנא ושייר או לא רצה להחזיקו לאפיקורס ע”י העדר אמונת מחשבה כי רבות מחשבות בלב איש שאין בהם ממש וגם רוב מחשבות אין הקב”ה מצרפן למעשה חוץ ממחשבות ע”ז כדאיתא בגמ

All this is important and worth exploring. But let us return to Grossman, who again attempts to make me look like a fool. He states: “This proves, says Shapiro, that one is not considered a heretic for such thoughts since the Rambam does not say that one who holds these beliefs is a heretic.” Grossman makes this false statement based on my discussion on pp. 8-9. Yet if he had only turned to page 13, at the end of my discussion of this matter, he would have found that I write as follows:

We must therefore conclude that Maimonides’ use of the words “one who says” in describing a heretic is only in imitation of Mishnah Sanhedrin 10:1 where the same formulation is found, and not too much should be read into this. One who believes in a corporeal God or in the existence of many gods, even without saying so publicly, is indeed a heretic as far as Maimonidean theology is concerned. Such a one will not face any penalties from an earthly court, but he is certainly denied a share in the world to come.

In other words, my conclusion is the exact opposite of what Grossman attacks me for (and is indeed in line with Grossman’s own opinion).

As for the word האומר as opposed to המאמין, R. Nissim of Marseilles writes as follows with reference to the usage of the term האומר in Mishnah, Sanhedrin 10:1.[12]

והאומר אין תורה מן השמים, ולא אמר “המאמין” כי באמירה לבד הוא מזיק לרבים וכופר בתורה ואף אם יאמין כמונו שהיא רבת התועלת כי הוא מחטיא הכונה והופך קערה על פיה . . . ועל זה אמרו ז”ל: “האומר” כי אף אם יפרש ויתקן דבורו באיזה צד מן התקון ‘והפירוש, לא יועיל לו שלא יקרא כופר. כי הוא מביא אחרים להחליש תקותם בתורה, ומחטיא כונת השם ית

This is a very original approach that some might wish to use to explain the Rambam as well. According to R. Nissim, what is important is the public declaration as this has the result of leading others to heresy. In fact, even if you really don’t believe what you are saying, since you are publicly stating a heretical position this is enough for you to be regarded as a heretic.

I have now responded to every comment of Grossman in the first half of his review, where he discusses broad themes. The second half of the review, which we turn to next, discusses specific points about the Principles. For those who have asked why I am taking the trouble to respond to every single point of Grossman, the answer is that it gives me a chance to revisit texts that I spent so much time on years ago. Secondly, it gives me the opportunity to share much new material that I think will be of interest to readers.

Before ending I would like to add a few more points. Earlier I mentioned that R. Hayyim knew the Guide of the Perplexed well. Some might be wondering what the basis for this statement is, because unlike the Rogochover, R. Hayyim does not discuss the Guide in his works. I am relying on R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik who testified that R. Hayyim wanted to write a commentary on the Guide (as well as on the Minhat Hinnukh), but he never had the time.[13] Here is how he is quoted in R. Zvi Yosef Reichman, Reshimot Shiurim: Sukkah, p. 258:

ואמנם כלל גדול אצלנו שאין להקשות על סתירה שבין ספר היד לספר מורה הנבוכים, כי כן קבל רבינו שליט”א מפי זקנו מו”ר הגר”ח זצוק”ל, וזקנו זצ”ל קבע כך כמופלג גדול בספר מורה נבוכים שרצה לכתוב עליו פירוש. גם חשב לכתוב הערות על הספר מנחת חינוך. ברם שתי המחשבות לא יצאו לפועל מפני טרדות בזמן; וחבל

R. Hayyim’s knowledge of the Guide is noteworthy since, as R. Aharon Rakeffet has commented many times, R. Moshe Soloveichik “never held the book in his hands.” While this might be an exaggeration, the underlying point is that R. Moshe had no interest in, or knowledge of, the Guide. I can’t say whether there is any influence of the Guide on R. Hayyim’s commentary on the Mishneh Torah. R. Eliyahu Soloveitchik actually cites the Guide as standing in opposition to R. Hayyim’s famous explanation of the two types of kavanah, found in Hiddushei Rabbenu Hayyim Halevi, Hilkhot Tefillah 4:1.[14]

Another noteworthy difference between R. Hayyim and the Guide is the following: The Rambam in Guide 2:45 explains that the books of the Prophets were produced from a higher level of divine inspiration than the books of the Hagiographa. However, R. Hayyim held that the difference between the Prophets and the Hagiographa is that the divine inspiration in the Prophets was originally intended to be spoken, and only later was written down. On the other hand, the divinely inspired books of the Hagiographa were originally intended to be written down. Thus, the difference between the Prophets and the Hagiographa has nothing to do with levels of prophetic inspiration.

This view of R. Hayyim is recorded in a number of different places, including by his son, R. Velvel.[15] R. Hershel Schachter also quotes this opinion from the Rav, who was passing on what his father, R. Moses, reported. Here is the passage in R. Schachter’s Nefesh ha-Rav, p. 240.

This entire passage is copied, word for word, in R. Gershon Eisenberger’s Otzar ha-Yediot Asifat Gershon, p. 411. But following a “tradition” that has now become somewhat popular in certain circles, Nefesh ha-Rav is not mentioned by name. Instead it is referred to as  ספר אחד [16]

Returning to the passage from R. Soloveitchik quoted by R. Reichman, it is also of interest that R. Hayyim is quoted as saying that there is no point in calling attention to contradictions between the Mishneh Torah and the Guide. No reason is given for this, but no doubt it is because the works had different purposes, and this can explain different, even contradictory, formulations.

Regarding the Hazon Ish, in my book I assumed that he, and a number of other scholars who explained Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7 similar to him (including R. Ahron Soloveichik, Parah Mateh Aharon, Sefer Mada, p. 194[17]), never saw what Maimonides wrote in Guide 1:36 where he explains why an honest error in matters relating to principles of faith does not change one’s fate. As mentioned already, R. Kafih states that these words were written in response to Rabad’s criticism in Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, where he states: “Why has he [Maimonides] called such a person a heretic? There are many people greater than and superior to him who adhere to such a belief on the basis of what they have seen in verses of Scripture and even more in the words of those aggadot which corrupt right opinion about religious matters.”[18]

I now believe that while it is certainly likely that some of the others I mention in my book had not seen the Guide, I would not say this about the Hazon Ish. Benjamin Brown has reasonably claimed that formulations in the Hazon Ish’s writings show that he was influenced by the Guide.[19] R. Yehoshua Enbal has harshly criticized Brown’s assertion that there was significant influence of the Guide on the Hazon Ish, but Enbal does not deny that the Hazon Ish knew the Guide.[20] It is reported that th Hazon Ish cited R. Moses Alashkar that Maimonides expressed regret about having “published” the Guide, and that if the work hadn’t already been spread so far, he would have removed it from circulation.[21] (This statement is not found in R. Alashkar’s works.) It seems to me that only one who had at least some idea of Maimonides’ philosophy, and why it could be viewed as problematic, would feel it necessary to identify with such an idea.

Can we point to any specific examples of influence of the Guide on the Hazon Ish? This is something that needs to be investigated and I am not prepared to offer an opinion on the matter. I would just note that R. Moshe Zuriel claims that a passage in the Hazon Ish about Divine Providence has its origin in Maimonides words in the Guide.[22]

2. Earlier in the post I discuss the Hazon Ish’s letter,Kovetz Iggerot1:15, which may be the most famous of all of the Hazon Ish’s letters. I also provide an image from the actual handwritten letter. For this I thank Mrs. Hassia Yehuda who graciously allowed me to take pictures of this and the other letters I will discuss.

Mrs. Yehuda is the widow of Rabbi Dr. Zvi Yehuda (1926-2014). Yehuda was a very close student of the Hazon Ish from 1941 until the early 1950s. During some periods he learned with him almost every day for 2-3 hours, and the Hazon Ish became a father-like figure to him. The letter in Kovetz Iggerot 1:15 was sent to Yehuda, and this is what Yehuda himself wrote about this letter (published here for the first time).

As with another close student of the Hazon Ish, Chaim Grade, Yehuda chose a different path than what his teacher would have preferred: He enlisted in the IDF, attended university, and became part of the Religious Zionist world.

Here is a picture that you can find on the internet.

From the Hebrew Wikipedia page for the Hazon Ish we learn the picture was taken in Ramat ha-Sharon when the Hazon Ish was visting a yeshiva ketanah there and testing the students. The man to the right of the Hazon Ish is R. Elijah Dessler. The young man to the right of R. Dessler is Yehuda. The man on the far left is R. Shmuel Rozovsky. Here is another picture from the same event where you can see R. Rozovsky clearly.

Here is a picture of Yehuda from much later in life.

The letters of the Hazon Ish to Yehuda are important as they present us with his responses to a curious young man who started to question things. We are not dealing with someone like Chaim Grade who would throw out traditional Judaism entirely. Rather, Yehuda was beginning to open himself to a more liberal type of Orthodoxy, one which valued academic studies and engaging with the outside world. Yehuda later taught Mishnah on Israel Radio and collaborated with Pinhas Kehati in writing the famous Mishnah booklets. In these booklets Yehuda’s role was acknowledged, but when the booklets were later incorporated into Kehati’s published volumes unfortunately there was no longer any acknowledgment. After coming to the United States, Yehuda completed his doctorate at Yeshiva University and his dissertation is titled “The Two Mekhiltot on the Hebrew Slave”.[23]

In Brown’s book on the Hazon Ish, he quotes from a lengthy interview with Yehuda which was included as an appendix to Brown’s doctoral dissertation. With the approval of Brown, I have uploaded Yehuda’s very interesting interview here. You can also listen to Yehuda being interviewed about the Hazon Ish at Torah in Motion here. Yehuda also published two articles about the Hazon Ish in Tradition.[24]

Because the published version of the Hazon Ish’s letters does not reveal who they were sent to, people have no idea that Yehuda was the recipient of a number of important letters that are often cited. The earliest of the letters from the Hazon Ish to Yehuda is 1:41. According to Yehuda (in unpublished comments on the Hazon Ish’s letters to him), this letter is from 1944. Here we get a glimpse of the strong connection between the Hazon Ish and Yehuda, as the Hazon Ish ends the letter with הדו”ש הדבוק באהבתך. The content of the letter is also of interest as the Hazon Ish writes:

רב שלומים, מאד הנני מתענין לדעת משלומך, וחידה סתומה היא בעיני, שלא התראית עמדי טרם עזבך עירנו, ומה קרה אשר הכאיב לבבך הטוב, אשר מנעך משפיכת רוחך? ואשר מהרת לברוח. לא אוכל להאמין שתעזוב את התורה, כי נפשך קשורה בה בחביון נשמתך ואצילות נפשך העדינה, נא אל תכחד ממני דבר, והודיעני הכל

The Hazon Ish had apparently heard that Yehuda was going to abandon full-time Torah study. He was disappointed with this information and asked Yehuda to explain what was going on.

Yehuda replied to the Hazon Ish and this led to the Hazon Ish’s next letter to Yehuda, which is found in Kovetz Iggerot 1:42. In this letter the Hazon Ish offers guidance to Yehuda, designed to keep him on what today we would call the haredi path:

הריני מאחל לך שתהא דעתך נוחה מחכמתך בתורה, ואל יוסף כח מנגד להדריך מנוחתך, ולנדנד איתן מושבך, שים בסלע קנך, ושמה בסתר המדרגה, הוי שקוד ללמוד תורה, וראה חיים שתחת השמש אין לו יתרון אך למעלה מן השמש יש לו יתרון

Kovetz Iggerot 1:19 was also sent to Yehuda, and it was written after the letters already mentioned. In this letter the Hazon Ish deals with Yehuda’s choice to leave the yeshiva world:

באמת לא מצאתי את המסקנא כדרך הנכונה, אך בידעי שאי אפשר לאכף עליך לעשות נגד רצונך הטבעי . . . לא הרהבתי בנפשי להרבות דברים בשבח הישיבה . . . ואולי תבוא שעה מוצלחת ועבר עליך רוח ממרום בבחינת יעבור עלי מה! ותכיר ישיבתך בישיבה להיותר מתאימה לנפשך ולמשאה בחזות הכל

Kovetz Iggerot 1:14 is the last of the fourteen letters the Hazon Ish sent to Yehuda. This was written when Yehuda’s life choice had been made and the Hazon Ish recognized that his pleas to Yehuda to remain in the yeshiva world had gone unanswered. We see in this letter the Hazon Ish’s great love for Yehuda together with his great disappointment that his dear student had chosen a different path for his life. I don’t think there is another published letter from the Hazon Ish where he writes with such emotion. It is a tribute to Yehuda’s memory that the world can see how the Hazon Ish loved him, and I am happy to be able to reveal who the addressee of this letter is, as over the years many people have wondered about this, and sections of this letter have often been reprinted.

Here is some of what the Hazon Ish wrote to Yehuda:

רב הרגלי לערוך את החיים בודאות גמורה של י”ג העיקרים שעם ישראל עליהם נטעו הקנו לי אהבת התורה בלי מצרים. עשיר אני גם באהבת זולתי, וביחוד לצעיר מצוין בכשרונות, ולב מבין. צעיר השוקד על התורה מלבב אותי וצודד את נפשי, וזכרונו ממלא את כל עולמי, ונפשי קשורה בו בעבותות אהבה בל ינתקו

בראותי בך מפנה פתאומי, אשר כפי שתארתיו, מובנו לבכר החיים של השוק על החיים של התורה אשר בישרון מלך, נפגשתי במאורע רציני בלתי רגיל, והייתי צריך להבליג יום יום על גודל הכאב, ולא יכולתי להשתחרר מרב היגון, הבלתי נשכח כל היום. מצד אחד הייתי מתפלל על תשובתך ומצד השני היה מתגבר עלי היאוש, ובאהבת האדם את עצמו הייתי מסתפק אולי צריך להשתדל להשכיח את כל העבר, ולומר וי לי חסרון כיס, ומצד שלישי אהבתי אליך לא נתנני מנוחה. אבל אורך הזמן שעזבתני עזיבה גמורה ואין לך שום חפץ בי, הכריע הכף לפנות אל השכחה שתעמוד בי בעת צוקה, ומה כבד עלי שבאת לעורר אהבה ישנה, אשר תאלצני להאמין בתקוות משעשעות, אבל כח היאוש אינו רוצה להרפות ידו, ועוד נשאר בלבי, כמובן . . . [הנקודות במקור] אבל בערך אולי תבין מצבי. הכותב בכאב לב חפץ באשרו

The letters of the Hazon Ish to Yehuda have recently been donated to the National Library of Israel. See here.

3. In previous posts I discussed how letters from the Rabbi Isaac Unna archive formerly kept at Bar-Ilan University were being sold at auction. The final shoe has now dropped as what appears to be the remaining items in the archive are now up for auction. The lot is described as follows: “Large Archive Of C. 350 Documents And Letters To, And Accumulated By, RABBI ISAK UNNA Concerning The Campaign To Protect Kosher Slaughter (Shechitah) In Germany.” You can see it here. Thus ends this disgraceful saga in which the family donated numerous historically important documents to Bar-Ilan to be preserved in an archive for scholars to use, and instead these items ended up being sold to the highest bidder.

4. For a while I have been fascinated by the over-the-top language in various charity appeals. It is not enough to stress the importance of the cause, but people feel that they need to speak about how the giver will benefit as well. Furthermore, all sorts of phony stories about “yeshuos” are included in these appeals. However, I don’t recall ever seeing such a blatant falsehood as what appeared right before Purim here in an appeal from the Vaad Harabanim fund. This is the text of the appeal.

Group Of Frum Men Travelling To Dangerous Arab Territory

Thursday 25th of February 2021 07:01:23 AM

A hand-selected group of talmidei chachamim arrived in Iran from Israel this morning, sent on an important mission by Rav Chaim Kanievsky himself. Rav Kanievsky sent the emissaries to pray at the tombs of Mordechai & Esther on behalf of all those who donate to Vaad HaRabbanim’s matanos l’evyonim campaign.

The tomb has been preserved against all odds by Iranian Jews for centuries, despite attempts and even threats by the government to destroy it. The group of travellers runs considerable safety risk appearing externally Jewish and carrying Israeli passports through the hostile Arab country. They do it all for the sake of the hundreds of widows, orphans, and talmidei chachamim who are turning to Vaad HaRabbanim for help.

Funds collected will be distributed to poor people on the day of Purim, in keeping with the observance of the mitzvah of matanos l’evyonim.

Names are being accepted for the prayer list at the tomb for the next few days only.

Where to begin? First of all, Iran is not an Arab country. Second, Israeli passport holders are not allowed into Iran. Quite apart from this, think about the idiocy of this appeal. They expect the reader to believe that in the midst of Covid, with Ben Gurion Airport closed, a group of Israeli talmidei chachamim flew to Iran of all places. And we are also expected to believe that R. Chaim Kanievsky sent these talmidei chachamim to Iran. Anyone who did a little research would have also learned that the tomb was closed because of Covid and even Iranian Jews could not go there.

The story is so obviously phony that I wonder how anyone could so brazenly actually post it. And yet, as with all these ridiculous stories, some people appear to have fallen for it. On the page that you donate here it tells us that $7799 was raised for this idiotic appeal. On this page the appeal begins dramatically: “Right now, a plane full of talmidei chachamim is headed to Iran on a special mission from Rav Chaim Kanievsky himself.” It would have been bad enough had the appeal said that one or two people are going to Iran, but a “plane full”! Of course, if there was actually a group of talmidei chachamim traveling to Iran then the cost of this junket would be more than the $7799 raised, so the snake oil salesman who prepares the next phony appeal might consider the fact that people donating to charity would prefer that it actually go to the poor, not to fund a group of people going on a trip.

* * * * * * * *

[1] R. Elhanan Wasserman, Kovetz Ma’amarim (Jerusalem, 2006), p. 11. R. Shimshon Pinkus, Nefesh Shimshon: Be-Inyanei Emunah, p. 99, notes that there are those who have claimed that R. Hayyim’s statement is not to be taken literally, and that he too agrees that one who does not know any better is not to be regarded as a heretic. R. Pinkus responds as follows to this distortion of R. Hayyim’s view:

כפי שקיבלתי את הדברים מבית בריסק – הגר”ח התכוון כפשוטו ממש! יהודי החסר את ידיעת עיקרי האמונה – אף שלא באשמתו – אינו מחובר לאמונת ישראל. וכשאין דבר המחבר אותו לנצחיות הרוחנית, מציאותו מנותקת ואין לו חלק לעולם הבא.

[2] See his edition of the Guide of the Perplexed, 1:36, n. 37.

[3] R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik discusses the unwitting heretic in Shiurei Ha-Grid: Tefillin, ST”M Tzitzit, p. 84 and ibid., note 7:

בשחיטה, שדין פסול מומר מיוסד על ההשוואה לעכו”ם, אין אנו פוסלים את כל אלו שמומרותם לא בקעה ועלתה מתוך מעשה איסור מיוחד. ובנוגע לאיסורים מסוימים הגורמים למומרות, אנו יודעים כי רק שבת, עבודה זרה ואפיקורסות מחדשים פסול כזה. ברם בסת”ם, שלגביהם גם אפיקורס בשוגג פסול משום שאיננו מאמין, אף על פי שלא חטא, מכל מקום אין הפסול תלוי בחטא, כי אם במצב הגברא ובחלות שמו. מאמין בקדושת התורה כשר, ואילו אינו מאמין פסול . . . אמנם, באפיקורס בשוגג לא חל שם רשע כל כך, שהרי איננו כופר במזיד, ומכל מקום נקרא אפיקורס, ומהווה חלות מיוחדת בגברא, אף על פי שאינה מושרשת במעשה עברה זדוני

[4] See his letter in my Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan, pp. 286-287.
[5] Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 4, p. 452.
[6] Teshuvot ha-Rambam, ed. Blau, vol. 2, no. 264. R. Joseph Karo, Kesef Mishneh, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 2:5 and Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:14, did not have Maimonides’ responsum and thus offered a different suggestion.
[7] She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Even ha-Ezer, no. 148.
[8] The proper transliteration is kofer ba-ikar (or ikkar) as there is a kamatz under the ב not a sheva.
[9] In his commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, R. Kafih writes:

כל “האומר” שהזכיר רבנו בהלכות הללו אינה סתם אמירה ודבור, אלא מי שהוא בדעה וסברא שכך הוא הדבר

[10] Le-Dofkei Teshuvah, p. 168.
[11] Emunah Shelemah, p. 158. Others who deal with the issue include R. Yitzhak Hecht, Sha’arei Kodesh, vol. 3, pp. 212-213, and R. Mordechai Movshovitz, Shalmei Mordechai, vol. 1, p. 4. R. Movshovitz writes:

וצריך לומר דלאו בדווקא נקט אומר אז חשוב מין, אלא כל שאומר רק במחשבה, הרי הוא עובר דהרי הוא כופר בעיקר

[12] Ma’aseh Nissim, ed Kreisel (Jerusalem, 2000), p. 160.
[13] See also R. Shimon Herschler, Gishmei Berakhah p. 495 (included in Herschler, Seh la-Bayit: Hiddushim u-Derushim al ha-Moadim [London, n.d.], who quotes Zalman Levine, the son of R. Hayyim Avraham Dov Ber Levine, the famous Malach, that his father studied the Guide of the Perplexed with R. Hayyim. Despite his father’s extremism, Zalman attended RIETS and shaved his beard. See Chaim Dalfin, Chabad and Gedolim II (Brooklyn, 2021), p. 155 n. 61. Although it is generally assumed that the title “Malach” was given to the elder R. Levine because of his piety, Dalfin quotes a report that the term was coined “to humiliate those individuals who joined Rabbi Haim Dovber Levine. The sentiment was that they put themselves on a pedestal making themselves ‘holier than thou'”. Habad Portraits (Brooklyn, 2015), vol. 3, p. 54 n. 89.
[14] “Ha-Tefillah be-Aspaklaryat ha-Rambam,” Yeshurun 9 (2001), p. 658. See similarly R. Moshe Yitzhak Roberts in his edition of R. Moses Trani, Beit Elokim: Sha’ar ha-Tefilah (Lakewood, 2008), section Kiryat Moshe, p. 269.
[15] Hiddushei Rabbenu ha-Griz ha-Levi, Menahot 30a.
[16] In the past I have referred to this phenomenon, and another example was recently mentioned by R. Yaacov Sasson in the Seforim Blog here.
[17] On this page R. Soloveichik also points to what he sees as a contradiction between how the Rambam regards unwitting heretics in Hilkhot Teshuvah and his position in Hilkhot Mamrim regarding people brought up in Karaite society, a matter already discussed in this post. He writes

אבל לכאורה זה סותר מה שכתב הרמב”ם בפ”ג מהל’ ממרים ה”ג שהצדוקים והקראים שנתגדלו וחונכו ע”י הוריהם להיות כופרים בתורה שבעל פה יש להם דין של תינוקות שנשבו ויש להם חלק לעולם הבא

In the copy of Parah Mateh Aharon on Otzar haChochma the words I have underlined are also underlined, and the following comment has been added:

פרי המצאת המחבר, ובר”מ שם ליתא (!) ולפי”ז אזדא כל תמיהת הרהמ”ח

The unknown author correctly notes that in Hilkhot Mamrim the Rambam never says that people brought up in Karaite society, who are unwitting heretics, have a share in the World to Come.
[18] Translation in Isadore Twersky, Rabad of Posquières (Cambridge, MA, 1962), p. 282.
[19] Ha-Hazon Ish (Jerusalem, 2010), pp. 171-172.
[20] Yeshurun 29 (2013), p. 938.
[21] Pe’er ha-Dor, vol. 4, p. 150.
[22] Le-Sha’ah u-le-Dorot, vol. 1, p. 283.
[23] The word מכילתא means “a measure”, yet why should the halakhic midrash be given this title? Isaac Baer Levinsohn, Beit Yehudah (Vilna, 1858), vol. 2, p. 48, suggests that the work was actually called מגילתא, but in the popular pronunciation came to be called מכילתא as ג without a dagesh sounded a lot like כ without a dagesh. This pronunciation of ג without a dagesh can still be heard among Middle Eastern Jews. Levinsohn, ibid., who is discussing halakhic midrash, also points out that Wolf Heidenheim, in his machzor for Shavuot in Yetziv Pitgam, vocalizes the words ספרא וספרין as Safra ve-Safrin, instead of Sifra ve-Sifrin. The words are also vocalized this way in Shlomo Tal’s Rinat Yisrael machzor.

Yet as Levinsohn points out, this would mean “writer and writers” –סופר וסופרים. Heidenheim was, of course, a great scholar (and Tal was also quite learned), so it doesn’t make sense that this is simply a mistake. Does anyone know of a source that ספרא should be read as Safra and not Sifra?
[24] “Hazon Ish on the Future of the State of Israel,” Tradition 18 (Summer 1979), pp. 111-117, “Hazon Ish on Textual Criticism and Halakhah,” ibid. (Summer 1980), pp. 172-180.