Toil of the Mind and Heart: A Meditation in Memory of Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine

by Eli Rubin

Rabbi Eli Rubin is a writer and editor at Chabad.org, and works to further intercommunal and interdisciplinary study of Chassidism. Many of his articles can be viewed online here .

This is his first essay at the Seforim Blog.

A new anthology mines the oral teachings of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi for new insight into the historical development of his leadership and the crystallization of his ideology, and also charts the impact of Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk on the emergence of Chabad as a distinct Chassidic movement. “HaRav: On the Tanya, Chabad thought, the path, leadership and disciples of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi” ed. Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, Hebrew, 798 pp. (Mechon HaRav, 2015).

In memory of the acclaimed Chabad scholar Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine who passed away one year ago, on the final day of Chanukah, 5775.[1]

Introduction – From Liozna to Liadi

The past few years have seen many new publications shedding light on the life and times of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Chabad school of Chassidism, and making his teachings more accessible.[2] For the most part, however, the historical and the ideological domains have been treated in relative isolation from one another. Moreover, while R. Schneur Zalman’s magnum opus, the Tanya, has been a frequent object of study, less work has been done on the vast corpus of his oral teachings, transcriptions of which now fill some thirty published volumes.[3]

HaRav: On the Tanya, Chabad thought, the path, leadership and disciples of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, appeared just a few months ago as a rather belated marker of the 200th year since Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s passing on the 24th of Tevet 5772 (January 1813),[4] and comprises a collection of articles, teachings and commentary, on the topics referred to in the volume’s subtitle. Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, the volume’s editor and primary contributor, is a leading Chabad thinker and historian, and the editor of the Heichal HaBesht journal. Other contributors include Chabad scholars Rabbi DovBer Levine, Rabbi Eliyahu Matusof, Rabbi Aharon Chitrik, and le-havdil bein chaim le-chaim, the late Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine.

Of the volume’s six sections, it is the third—Shaar Ha-Maamarim, focusing on R. Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings—that is the most substantial, in terms of both quantity and content. In a loose series of articles, the volume’s editor, Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, takes several important steps towards the integration of the ideological content of these discourses within a broader historiographical context, giving particular attention to Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s relationship with Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk.

An article by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine—in the volume’s penultimate section—traces the impact of Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin on Chabad’s emergence as a distinct school of Chassidism, adding additional dimension to the developing picture.[5]

Grunwald’s overarching thesis pivots on Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s move from Liozna (90km North-West of Smolensk) to Liadi (Lyady, 70km South-West of Smolensk), shortly after being released from his second internment in Petersburg in the summer of 1801.[6] The precise reasons for this move remain unclear, but the distinction between the Liozna and Liadi periods—also referred to as the periods “before Petersburg” and “after Petersburg”—appears in a variety of Chabad historiographic traditions to mark an array of changes in his role as a leader and teacher of Chassidism. As one source has it, “when he dwelt in Liozna the quality of emotion toward G-d radiated from him, whereas afterwards, when he dwelt in Liadi, it was not so; there the quality of intellect radiated from him.”[7]

Grunwald’s discussion of how this shift developed is complicated by Levine’s account. And though their parallel theses are both presented in the present volume, it remains the task of the reader to integrate them.

Transcendence and Interiority

In a 1903 talk delivered by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn (Rashab), the fifth rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, he distinguished between the type of teaching that entirely transcends [מקיף] the students/listeners, but overwhelms, encompasses and transforms them instantaneously, and between the type of teaching that is directed to the interiority [פנימיות] of the students/listeners, to permeate their intellects, so that they can then transform themselves from within:

Before he returned from Petersburg the second time his Chassidic teaching would burn the world, for it was of transcendent quality… there was no one who would hear Chassidic teachings from him and remain in their previous condition. But after Petersburg it changed and it wasn’t so, because then… the Chassidic teachings began to be of internal quality… Through the accusations that were in Petersburg the interiority specifically was revealed…

Before this… the Chassidic teachings were specifically of transcendent quality… which causes very intense inspiration, and such examples are also found in Likutei Torah… But the ultimate intention is the quality of interiority specifically, for with the coming of Moshiach specifically the interiority will be revealed… and the quality and advantage of interiority is achieved specifically through great and extremely immense toil… with service of the mind and the heart…[8]

Here and elsewhere it is clear that the Rashab didn’t simply rely on Chassidic traditions alone, but drew philological insight from his own knowledge of the relevant texts.[9] It is this philological project that Grunwald seeks to expand, and following the Rashab, he rejects the suggestion of other scholars that the teachings of these two periods are primarily distinguished by their relative length.[10] Instead he describes six features that, in his opinion, characterize the teachings of the earlier period. It appears that the most central of these features is the almost exclusive focus on the practical challenge of serving G-d at the highest possible level. Theoretical issues are only mentioned and engaged with to the degree that that they are directly relevant to the specifics of divine worship.[11]

Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s preoccupation with this challenge is clear from Tanya, which began circulating in the early 1790s and was published in 1796. This work, as described in the author’s introduction, is comprised of “answers to many questions, asked in search of counsel… in the service of G-d.”[12] As Grunwald notes, the Tanya is a systematic presentation of the solutions and advice that its author provided in private audiences (yechidut) on an individualized and more immediate basis. “During this period,” Grunwald concludes, “the distinction between private audiences and the oral delivery of Torah was almost non-existent.”[13]

The purpose of the oral teachings during the earlier period, accordingly, was to directly inspire religious transformation by providing practical direction and immediately applicable solutions. They therefore do not digress into involved discussion of complex theoretical questions and abstractions,[14] nor do they linger on the stylistic niceties of orderly progression.[15] Instead they drive directly to the point, emphasizing it with sharp language[16] and vivid imagery,[17] and uncompromisingly demanding utter submission to the exclusive reality of divine being (“ain od milvado”). In the earlier period, Grunwald notes, such Chassidic exhortations “are not complicated by a mantle of explanation or justification, but are [delivered] straight… penetrating the gut.”[18]

In the later period, conversely, Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings were often devoted to the theoretical explanation of a particular concept or issue, or to several related concepts. Here we find detailed and orderly expositions on the nature and purpose of the Torah and the mitzvot generally, or of particular mitzvot and festivals, as well as on complex Kabbalistic ideas. “In the extant discourses [from before Petersburg],” Grunwald writes, “it is almost impossible to find a delivery that is dedicated entirely to the clarification of an aspect of the cosmic chain of being [seder hishtalshalut], in order for it to be understood in depth and in conceptualized form. As a case in point, after Petersburg Rabbi Schneur Zalman delivered a discourse on the topic of ohr ain sof and tzimtzum nearly every year… but before Petersburg we don’t find anything like this at all.”[19]

Grunwald acknowledges that this distinction is a generalization, that in each period one can find anomalies, and that there is far more to say about the development of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings with the passing years. But the distinct and rather rapid change in emphasis is clear enough to demand a broader historiographical explanation. The question is sharpened when we consider that the second part of Tanya, Shaar Ha-yichud Ve-he-emunah, which was circulated and published during the earlier period, does provide a systematic and thorough account of the unity and singularity of divine being, vis-à-vis the created realms. The orderly conceptualization and contemplation of esoteric concepts was already then a fundamental element of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to the service of G-d.[20] (So fundamental, in fact, that—as discussed elsewhere in the present volume—Rabbi Schneur Zalman originally intended Shaar Ha-Yichud to be the first section of Tanya, rather than the second.[21]) Why then do we not find more of this kind of material in the oral teachings dating from this era?

The Making of a Tzaddik[22]

Conventionally, the onset of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership—and the establishment of Chabad as a distinct school of Chassidic thought and practice—is dated to 1783, when he settled in Liozna, or to 1786, when Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk wrote from the Holy Land prevailing upon him “to draw close the hearts of the faithful of Israel, to teach them understanding and knowledge of G-d.”[23] Grunwald, however, argues that throughout the Liozna period Rabbi Schneur Zalman continued to see himself—not as an independent leader of a Chassidic community, nor as a tzaddik in his own right, but rather—as a personal mentor and guide acting as the appointed representative of the Chassidic leaders in the Holy Land.[24]

One source that Grunwald would have done well to cite to strengthen and crystalize this nuanced conception of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s role is a 1786 letter by Rabbi Avraham responding to the complaint of the Chassidic community in the region of Lithuania and Belarus—which, along with Rabbi Menachem Mendel, he continued to lead from afar—that they were unable to hear Torah directly from the mouths of the Tzaddikim in the Holy Land. Rabbi Avraham instructs them to focus less on their desire to hear new wisdom, and more on the practicalities of action:

If only you would place action before hearing, and our sages already said (Avot, Chapter 3) “Anyone whose wisdom is more than their actions etc. [their wisdom will not hold.]” And in my opinion it is tried and tested that too much wisdom is detrimental to action… Commit your eyes and heart to one thing of Chassidic teachings that you have heard, and strengthen it with nails that it should be imprinted and dug into your heart… and due to this you climb and ascend… to exile materiality bit by bit…

And as for action you have a master, our honored friend and beloved, the beloved of G-d, precious light… our teacher the rabbi, Shneur Zalman… filled with the glory of G-d, with spirit, wisdom, understanding and knowledge to show you the path…[25]

Strikingly, Rabbi Avraham encouraged the Chassidic community to turn to Rabbi Schneur Zalman only as a master of “action,” as one who can guide them along the methodological “path” of practical service, but not as an independent tzaddik from whom to “hear” new wisdom.[26] More than a decade later Rabbi Avraham’s opinion “that too much wisdom is detrimental to action” would become a cause of contention between him and Rabbi Schneur Zalman.[27] Yet, even following the passing of Rabbi Menachem Mendel in 1788, and even as the crowds seeking Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s counsel turned Liozna into a bustling Chassidic court, the latter continued to restrict his instruction to the practicalities of actual service of G-d. In his introduction to Tanya too, in the same breath that he emphasizes that its content consists entirely of “answers to many questions, asked in search of advice… in the service of G-d” he continues to emphasize his deference and debt to “our masters in the Holy Land.”[28]

But not all Chassidim in the region were so eager to accept Rabbi Schneur Zalman as their mentor. A strong contingent looked for guidance and inspiration to his contemporary, Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin, who emphasized ecstatic faith and the centrality of the tzaddik, and was famed as a seer and wonderworker. As documented by Levine—following the earlier work of Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor—Karliner loyalists persistently lobbied the tzaddikim in the Holy Land to appoint Rabbi Shlomo in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s place, or to allow them to travel to visit him in Ludmir, Galitzia, where he settled circa 1786. Such agitation was consistently rebuffed, but never entirely quelled.[29] Rabbi Shlomo was shot by marauding cossacks in 1792, and the Karlin legacy was continued by Rabbi Asher of Stolin and Rabbi Mordechai of Lechevitch.[30] Despite the relative peace that reigned during this period, Rabbi Avraham continued to exhort the Chassidim to seek counsel from Rabbi Schneur Zalman alone into the early months of 1797, when he had apparently not yet seen the recently published Tanya.[31]

The period from 1788 to 1797 is described by Grunwald as an intermediate one, in which Rabbi Schneur Zalman came to ever increasing prominence and also crystallized the distinctly systematic approach to the service of G-d presented and published in Tanya. Neither by restricting himself to topics directly related to practical worship, nor by describing himself as a “compiler” (melaket) of a “collection of sayings”—rather than as the author of an independent work of Chassidic thought and instruction—was he able to mask the originality of his approach. No reader of the Tanya can evade the primacy given to intellectual contemplation, to toil of the mind, as the fundamental basis of heartfelt service and actual practice, a primacy that is further underscored by the discussion of divine unity in Shaar Ha-yichud Ve-ha-emunah.[32]

As Levine explains, the crystallization of this systematic methodology to the point of publication was seized by Karliner loyalists as an opportunity to press their case before Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk, eliciting his sharp critique of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s path in a series of letters penned between the latter part of 1797 and the summer of 1798.[33] Paradoxically, it was precisely this critique that led to Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s emergence as a Chassidic leader of a different stripe, and ultimately as an autonomous tzaddik in the fullest sense of the term.

In Grunwald’s words:

Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s two great confrontations, with Rabbi Avraham on the doctrine of Chabad, and with the Lithuanian mitnagdim on the doctrine of Chassidism, transpired and erupted at approximately the same time. The period from 1798 [when he was first arrested and taken to Petersburg on mitnagdic charges of treason] until after the second imprisonment marked the birth pangs that brought forth the shining era of the Chabad doctrine and Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership… It is due to this [difficult] period that we merited the doctrine of Chabad in all its greatness and depth.[34]

According to Grunwald the distinction between the Liozna and Liadi periods is far greater than has previously been understood. Much has been made of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s unwillingness to deal with the worldly concerns (mili de’alma) of his constituents, and of the rules he imposed to regulate the throngs who traveled to Liozna to meet with him and receive spiritual guidance in person (takonat liozna).[35] But according to Grunwald the documentary record attests that these kinds of restrictions were only imposed during the Liozna period, when Rabbi Schneur Zalman insisted that his role was only that of a spiritual guide.[36] In the Liadi period, when he no longer acted as a personal mentor and took on the full responsibility of autonomous leadership, he no longer protested against those who came to him with their worldly concerns, and imposed no regulations on those who wished to come and hear Torah from his lips.[37]

The focus of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership now shifted from the personal to the public, from direct inspiration and methodological instruction, to the coherent formulation, explanation and dissemination of a theoretical edifice accessible enough to be studied, assimilated and acted upon by every aspiring Chassid. It was only after Petersburg that Rabbi Schneur Zalman began delivering oral teachings each and every week, and often several times in a single week. It was in the later period too that new emphasis was placed on the systematic transcription of these teachings not only by Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s brother, Rabbi Yehudah Leib, but also by the former’s sons Rabbi DovBer (the Mitteler Rebbe) and Rabbi Moshe, his grandson Rabbi Menachem Mendel (the Tzemach Tzedek), as well as by noted Chassidim such as Rabbi Pinchas Reitzes. These teachings were not simply instructive or inspirational, each was a new window onto the transcendent philosophy of Chabad, to be carefully preserved, reviewed, studied, assimilated and applied, transforming the Chassid from within.[38]

Cerebral Love

According to Grunwald, the theoretical emphasis that emerged in the Liadi period also constituted a substantial shift in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to prayer, and, more broadly, to the service of G-d with love and awe.[39]

In Tanya, Chapter 16, Rabbi Schneur Zalman distinguishes between love that is revealed openly in one’s heart, “so that one’s heart burns like flaming fire, and desires with heartfelt fervour, longing and yearning,” and love “that is hidden in the mind and concealed in the heart.” Both are the product of mindful contemplation of the greatness of G-d’s infinitude. Both provide the impetus to bind oneself to G-d through the Torah and its commandments. But the former bursts forth as an emotive outpouring of love (hitgalut ha-lev), while the latter remains “enclosed in the mind and the concealment of the heart” (mesuteret be-mocho ve’taalumat libo). Rabbi Schneur Zalman establishes it as “a fundamental rule in the service of ordinary people (beinonim)” that though open love is apparently more ideal, mere mindful animation is “also” acceptable impetus for Torah study and mitzvah performance “since it is this understanding in one’s mind and the concealment of one’s heart that brings you to toil in them.”

In a later teaching Rabbi Schneur Zalman specifically refers to this passage in Tanya, but argues that a more cerebral experience of love is actually preferable, rather than merely acceptable. For one thing, emotional experience is fleeting while cerebral animation achieves a permanently effective transformation. For another, an open experience of ecstatic love may itself be so spiritually satisfying that one will no longer seek to bind oneself to G-d through actual Torah study and practice of the commandments.[40]

Though the text in question bears no date, Grunwald devotes an entire article to a survey of several similar examples, each of which date from the period following the second imprisonment specifically. Yet Grunwald fails to note a fundamental distinction between these two texts: Tanya speaks of an individual whose “intellect and spirit of understanding is insufficient” and consequently suffers from emotional indifference. But the oral teaching he cites clearly addresses an individual who possesses the intellectual and spiritual capacity to experience open love, but is enjoined to use the intellect to exercise emotional discipline in order to cultivate a more pervading experience of submissive subjugation (bitul) before G-d.[41]

Contrary to Grunwald’s suggestion, this later text does not present a complete reversal of priorities when compared to Tanya.[42] It instead introduces a loftier form of service, through which toil of the heart is further refined rather than abandoned. As Grunwald explains elsewhere, emotional enthusiasm—even when directed towards G-d—is essentially a form of self-expression and self-affirmation, whereas the Chabad ideal is to internalize the recognition that nothing exists other than G-d.[43] Ecstatic experience can accordingly be counterproductive, and as already mentioned, may well remain limited to the realm of emotion. A loftier—and more thoroughly transformative—mode of worship uses the mind to exercise emotional self-discipline, subduing self-expression and subjecting the entirety of one’s being to the mindful apprehension of divinity and the practical service of G-d.[44]

The distinctions are perhaps not as sharp as Grunwald portrays them, but the shift is certainly a real one. In the earlier period Rabbi Schneur Zalman instructed his disciples to use their intellectual capacities to inspire emotional expression and exuberance (as reflected in Tanya). In the later period he taught them to cultivate a more contained and constant form of internal animation, channeling mindful enthusiasm directly into the practical service of G-d—Torah study and mitzvah performance—rather than allowing it to overflow into the heart unbridled.[45]

A related point, addressed in a different article, is the debate between Rabbi Schneur Zalman and Rabbi Avraham of Kalisk on the complex relationship between faith and knowledge. In 1805 the former delivered a series of discourses on the topic, elicited by the latter’s renewed critique, and Grunwald’s rich treatment of the sources further underscores the centrality of such theoretical issues in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s later teachings.[46]

As we have seen, the transition between the Liozna and Liadi periods was rooted in the parting of ways that transpired between Rabbi Schneur Zalman and Rabbi Avraham. One result of this transition—Grunwald further argues—was the subsequent parting of ways between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oldest son, Rabbi DovBer of Lubavitch, and his foremost disciple, Rabbi Aharon of Strashelye. As has been most extensively described by Naftali Loewenthal, these two personalities clashed precisely over the question of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach to emotional enthusiasm, particularly during prayer.[47] Rabbi Aharon first came to Liozna at the age of 17, shortly after Rabbi Schneur Zalman settled there in 1783. Rabbi DovBer would have been less than ten years old at the time, and he did not begin transcribing his father’s teachings until 1798—that is, at the very end of the Liozna period. Grunwald accordingly asserts that the eras in which they each matured as students of Rabbi Schneur Zalman can be broadly distinguished along the lines of their later disagreement.[48] While this claim rings true, it is complicated by the facts that Rabbi Aharon and Rabbi DovBer were close associates for many years, and that by 1798 the later would already have been 25 years old.[49]

Grunwald enriches his analysis of the relevant transcripts with several recollections and comments of the Tzemach Tzedek.[50] One example is a note in the latter’s own hand, appended to a teaching in which Rabbi Schneur Zalman categorically rejects any emotionalism, preferring the cerebral approach “even if it is only superficial and somatic… with very brief contemplation, and coldness…” The Tzemach Tzedek recalls that this extreme formulation was directed towards a particular individual whose enthusiastic conduct needed to be reined in, and was not necessarily intended to be applied more generally. More applicable is the general thrust of this teaching, which gives ultimate primacy to “the quality and substance of internal subjugation (bitul) in the mind and heart, in the aspect of prostration… without any detectable movement.”[51]

Another source records that seeing the Tzemach Tzedek’s note, one of his grandsons asked him if the specific individual referred to was Rabbi Aharon of Strashelye: “And his grandfather answered him… G-d forbid! I was not thinking of him, for he experienced G-dly enthusiasm…”[52] Grunwald relates this remark to a distinction drawn by Rabbi Schneur Zalman himself between the worship of an ordinary individual and that of a tzaddik, who is not susceptible to the pitfalls of ecstatic love and emotional enthusiasm. Regarding the difference between Rabbi DovBer and Rabbi Aharon, he refers to the vivid image provided by the Rebbe Rashab:

Like a burning stick of hay. When it is dry it burns with a flame. It burns through and nothing remains. [Such was the service of Rabbi Aharon] But when it contains moisture its substance is entirely burnt through, and yet [its form] remains standing. Touch it. It is nothing. Yet the form stands. Such was the Mitteler Rebbe [Rabbi DovBer]. This is the love of glowing flame, an all consuming fire, yet the form stands.[53]

Of Angels and Other Things

Notable both for its topical interest and for the broader significance of its central point is an analysis of the treatment of angels in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings by Rabbi Aharon Chitrik. “Chabad teachings… present comprehensive and deep explanations, extending to very specific details of the nature of angels: their creation, their character, their station, their role, their subjugation to G-d, prayer and song, their constant service, their free-will or lack thereof, etc. etc.” But these discussions, Chitrik convincingly demonstrates, do not reflect any intrinsic interest in angels at all. Angels are only the focus of such intense discussion as a counterpoint from which we can achieve a better understanding of the unique nature of the Jewish soul, and its mission on this physical earth.[54] In an 1804 discourse explicating this point, Rabbi Schneur Zalman extends this principle to all Kabbalistic discussions of the cosmic chain of supernal realms: Ultimately all such theoretical investigations are but a stepping stone to achieve direct knowledge of G-d’s essence.[55]

Two additional articles are devoted to the Tzemach Tzedek’s intensive engagement with his grandfather’s discourses, firstly from a theoretical perspective,[56] and secondly as editor and publisher of Torah Ohr and Likutei Torah.[57] In Grunwald’s apt and illuminating formulation, the Tzemach Tzedek is to Rabbi Schneur Zalman as the Tosafists are to the Talmud Bavli: Surveying Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s different treatments of the same or related topics, the Tzemach Tzedek seeks to compare them and combine them, ironing out apparent conflicts through innovative explanation, differentiation, and harmonization, and also to contextualize the former’s teachings within the broader Jewish tradition of philosophical and mystical thought.[58]

For all the rich depth, analysis and insight of Grunwald’s scholarship, his work in this volume tends to suffer from a certain looseness of form. Moving from text to context, from observation and analysis to elaboration and speculation, order and balance is sometimes lost; some points are too often repeated, others scattered in footnotes or hardly developed at all. His article on the Midrashic notion of “a dwelling in the lower realms,” as developed in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, abounds with relevant sources, thoughtful comparisons and observations. Yet it runs to nearly sixty pages and reads more like a voluminous draft than a tightly argued thesis.[59]

At the outset, Grunwald takes stock of the various perspectives within the Jewish tradition from which the purpose of the Torah and its commandments can be viewed—the Halachic, the philosophic and the kabbalistic—before proceeding to the unique contribution of Chassidism. Self admittedly his analysis is too sweeping. But it could also be better grounded in the relevant texts.[60] His conclusion that the Chassidic object of “a dwelling in the lower realms” is tied to the revelation of divine unity is in particular need of justification and elaboration. His initial discussion of the philosophical purpose of the Torah and its commandments similarly highlighted divine unity, a point that will further confuse many readers. The Rebbe Rashab explicitly discussed the Chassidic renewal of this midrashic conception in terms of its relationship with philosophical and kabbalistic approaches, and Grunwald is as familiar as anyone with the relevant sources. But it is not till footnote 99 that the first discourse of Yom Tov Shel Rosh Hashanah 5666 (“Samach Vav”) makes an appearance.[61]

Given the immensity of Grunwald’s project, as editor of this volume and its chief contributor, he is to be applauded for his successful effort to share such a great wealth of information and insight. Nevertheless, in several instances Grunwald’s arguments would have been substantively enhanced if he had the time and resources to ensure that they were composed and constructed with more orderliness and concision. In fact, the more one delves into his work, the more one can envision all that remains to be written. Many a brief note, expanded into a fully developed thesis, could be the topic of an independent article.[62]

Moving beyond the direct transcripts of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s oral teachings, the volume includes a substantial collection of short sayings and teachings attributed to R. Schneur Zalman in a wide variety of secondary sources.[63] A second collection draws exclusively on the oeuvre of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn of Lubavitch (1880-1950), whose journals, letters and private talks preserve a rich reservoir of anecdotes and historiographical data passed down from the first generation of Chabad.[64] Both of these rich collections were compiled by Grunwald and benefit greatly from his critical notes, comments and citations.

Also included in this volume is a newly edited edition of the seminal commentary to the Tanya by one of the principal educators in the original Yeshiva Tomchei Temimim, Lubavitch—Rabbi Shmuel Groinem Estherman (d. 1921).[65] Even in its as yet incomplete form this is a substantial text, which bears study and review in its own right. Another article gathers information on the period spent by Rabbi Schneur Zalman in Mohyliv-Podil’s’kyi on the River Dniester, following Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk’s ascent to the Holy Land.[66] Similar articles are devoted to some of the former’s Chassidim, including, but not limited to, the well known Rabbi Binyamin of Kletzk[67] and the lesser known —but perhaps equally influential, and certainly more intriguingly named—Rabbi Dovid Shvartz-Tuma.[68]

Subjective Transformation

Although the importance of Halacha for Rabbi Schneur Zalman and his work as a legal authority receives little attention in this volume, there are two notable exceptions. The first is Grunwald’s discussion of the relationship between the legal focus on physical activity and the mystical/Midrashic notion that G-d desired a dwelling in the physical realms specifically.[69] The second is a discussion by Rabbi Noach Green juxtaposing the objective rule of law in cases of monetary disputation with a more subjective process of arbitration and compromise. Rabbi Schneur Zalman prefered the subjective approach in practice, and also devoted several discourses to the mystical basis of that preference, explaining that this was the surer way of transforming our lowly environment into a “dwelling” for G-d.[70] As Green puts it: “The truth of Torah is imposed objectively, without actually refining the lowly material. Whereas the kindness of Torah is in accord with the nature of creation, and comes to refine the material as it is.”[71]

This preference—for subjective transformation rather than submissive acceptance of objective law—correlates with the ultimate focus of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s broader educational project. As we have seen, during the Liadi period his teachings delved deeply into the most esoteric of kabbalistic doctrines. But their purpose was ultimately focused on the conjunction of the highest highs and the lowest lows: direct knowledge of G-d’s essence and the physical practice of the commandments. As is often noted in Chabad teachings, this overcoming of the cosmic hierarchy will only be accomplished fully with the advent of the messianic era. But the period of the exile is not merely a ceaseless struggle between our reality and our ideals, and messianic revelation is not simply bestowed from above. As Rabbi Schneur Zalman asserts in Tanya, it is achieved through our subjective toil throughout the era of exile.[72]

But the question remains to be asked: Why did Rabbi Schneur Zalman place such an emphasis on the assimilation and contemplation of theoretical ideals, which most of us cannot yet adequately replicate in practice? Why did he not restrict his instruction to the more directly attainable elements of divine service, as he had in the Liozna period?

A fascinating array of sources related to these questions are collected in another article by Grunwald.[73] One example attributes the following distinction between toil of the heart and toil of the mind to Rabbi Schneur Zalman: G-d promises that with the messianic advent “I shall remove the heart of stone… and give you a heart of flesh,” but nothing similar is said of the mind. In the realm of the heart, of emotional inspiration and refinement, we may ultimately rely on divine intervention. But we must first ready ourselves for such revelation intellectually, independently toiling to “subjectively assimilate, and affix in our minds, all the stations that will be achieved with the messianic advent.”[74]

Grunwald argues that for Rabbi Schnuer Zalman this kind of intellectual work isn’t simply a technical condition to the messianic revelation. It is actually central to his vision of such revelation as something achieved through human toil, through the subjective transformation of our lowly reality into a lofty messianic state. It is only if we have internally readied ourselves that the messianic advent can be complete, with the mindful quality of interiority openly spilling over into our hearts.[75] In the words of the Rashab, cited earlier in this article: “The ultimate intention is the quality of interiority specifically, for with the coming of Moshiach specifically the interiority will be revealed…”[76]

Notes:

[1] On Mondshine’s life and work see Eli Rubin, “Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine, 67, Acclaimed Scholar and Author, Passes Away in Jerusalem,” Chabad.org (25 December 2014), available here. See also David Assaf, “Avad Chassid Min Ha-aretz,” Oneg Shabbat blog (26 December 2014), available here.
[2] Notably, the new and improved edition of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Igrot Kodesh (Kehot Publication Society, 2012), edited by Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine, and the still ongoing publication of all extant transcripts of Rabbi Shneur Zalman’s oral discourses in the multi volume series Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken. See also Rabbi Shalom DovBer Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit (Kehot Publication Society, 2010), and Rabbi Yehushua Mondshine, Masa Barditchev (2010), Ha-maasar Ha-rishon (2012) and Ha-masa Ha-acharon (2012), among other works. In English see, most recently, Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady: The Origins of the Chabad School (Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2015). While this is a valuable introductory work that takes advantage of first-hand documentary sources, I have noted elsewhere that its scope is rather limited. See Eli Rubin, “Making Chasidism Accessible: How Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi Successfully Preserved and Perpetuated the Teachings of The Baal Shem Tov,” Chabad.org (10 September 2012), available here. The shortcoming of that work are further highlighted when compared with the insights offered of the present volume. See my related comment below, note three. For an earlier, but in many ways broader, more complex and more insightful work see Naftali Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite: The Emergence of the Chabad School (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1990). For a partial review of recent publications see Eli Rubin, The Rabbi Who Defied Napoleon and Made Mysticism Accessible: New publications illuminate the life and legacy of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad.org (11 January 2013), available here.
[3] For an important exception see Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 66-76 and 117-119. Though relatively brief, Loewenthal’s discussion is well grounded in the primary sources, and in several ways prefigures insights that are presented with far more elaboration in the present work. Another important work is Roman A. Foxbrunner, Habad: The Hasidism of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady (University of Albama Press, 1992), which takes stock of some important aspects of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings through a particularly wide analysis of the oral, as well as written, teachings. In certain respects this work similarly prefigures the present volume, but without the diachronic dimensions that will here be highlighted. For further treatments see Eli Rubin, “The Future is Now: Assorted reflections on the oral teachings of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad-Revisited (30 November 2015), available here, and Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here. Etkes’ fleeting discussion of the oral teachings (Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, 50-54) relies on secondary sources, and at one point (note 93) confuses Rabbi Schneur Zalman with his great grandson, Rabbi Chaim Schneur Zalman of Liadi. It should be noted that none of these sources, including the present volume, address the two volumes of discourses published by Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s son, Rabbi DovBer: Siddur Tefilot Mi-kol Ha-shana Im Pirush Hamilot Al Pi Dach (Kopust, 1816), online here, and Bi’urei Ha-zohar (Kopust, 1816), online here. See also Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel Schneerson (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), where many texts by Rabbi Schneur Zalman are contextualized within a discussion of the thought of Chabad’s seventh Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream: A Dream Interpreted within a Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination (Cambridge, MA: Zone Books, 2011), 197-217. For more on Wolfson’s oeuvre, see Joey Rosenfeld, “Dorshei Yichudcha: A Portrait of Professor Elliot R. Wolfson,” the Seforim blog (21 July 2015), available here.
[4] Such belatedness seems to be something of a custom with such publications. In the introduction to the present volume (p. 15) reference is made to Sefer HaKan, a collection of articles on Rabbi Schneur Zalman that was intended to mark the 150th year since his passing in 1962, but which did not appear till the beginning of 1970, and is available online here.
[5] For the relationship with Rabbi Avraham see Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 51-54 and 77-90; Nehemia Polen, “Charismatic Leader, Charismatic Book: Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Tanya and His Leadership,” in Suzanne Last Stone, ed., Rabbinic and Lay Communal Authority (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 2006), 60-61; Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady: The Origins of the Chabad School (Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis University Press, 2015), 209-258. On the relationship with Rabbi Shlomo see the articles of Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, as cited specifically below.
[6] See Rabbi Meir Chaim Hillman, Beis Rebbi (Berditchev, 1902), Part 1, Chapter 20, note 5. See also the account in Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, Igrot Kodesh Vol. 3 (Kehot Publication Society, 1983), 444-445.
[7] Cited in HaRav, 401, and attributed to Rabbi Shlomo Zalman of Kopust in the name of his grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek.
[8] Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn, Torat Shalom (Kehot Publication Society, 1970), 26.
[9] See Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 72-73. Grunwald, HaRav, 402-406.
[10] Torat Shalom, 114. Grunwald, HaRav, 412-413.
[11] This is the second of the six features described by Grunwald, HaRav, 415-416.
[12] Another article in this volume, by the late Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine (HaRav, 609-650), collects extant accounts of such audiences, providing illuminating glimpses of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s interactions as a personal mentor.
[13] HaRav, 415, and at greater length, Ibid., 394-396. See, however, the discussion of Tanya as exoteric in relation to the esoteric aspect expressed in the oral teachings, as cited by Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, p. 235-236, note 67.
[14] HaRav, 416.
[15] HaRav, 415.
[16] HaRav, 420-421.
[17] HaRav, 416-418. See also Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here.
[18] HaRav, 413. On this last point see also Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 68. On the stringent demands Rabbi Schneur Zalman attaches to worship of G-d see Foxbrunner, Habad, 116.
[19] HaRav, 415. For an ongoing exploration of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s discussion of ohr ain sof and tzimtzum, on the part of the present writer, see my series here.
[20] See HaRav, 430-431.
[21] See the extended discussion in HaRav, 361-375.
[22] A formulation borrowed from Jonathan Garb, “The Early Writings of Rashaz,” delivered at Johns Hopkins University, April 2015, and available online here.
[23] See the introduction to Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken (Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 42-43, and sources cited there; Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit, 29-31; Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 42; Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, 9-19.
[24] HaRav, 391-396. See also pages 421-423 where Grunwald argues that Rabbi Schneur Zalman sought to deemphasize the role of the tzaddik in chassidim altogether. In my view the picture he paints is overly simplistic, and he himself notes that more research is required. As I have argued elsewhere, while Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s understanding of the tzaddik’s role was different to that of other Chassidic leaders, he understood it to be no less central than they; see Eli Rubin, “The Second Refinement and the Role of the Tzaddik: How Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi discovered a new way to serve G-d,” Chabad.org, available online here. For further comments on the role of the tzadik in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings see below note 28.
[25] As published in Rabbi Aharon Surasky, Yesod Ha-maalah Vol. 2 (Bnei Brak, 2000), 85-86.
[26] In a similar vein see Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 167, 137.
[27] See the related discussion of this source in Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 157, p. 187).
[28] Elsewhere in the present volume, Rabbi Eliyahu Matusof points out that when, in 1806—that is, in the Liadi period—Rabbi Schneur Zalman published a new edition of the Tanya, this reference to “our masters in the Holy Land” was omitted. Both Matusof (HaRav, 344-380) and Grunwald (HaRav, 398, note 30) see this as evidence that the distinction between the earlier and later periods of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s leadership (as described in more detail below) is to be extended to Tanya as well. In the earlier period it served as a proxy for one-on-one mentorship (yechidut). In the later period (when references to yechidut were also omitted from the 1806 edition of Tanya) it was transformed into the foundation of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s broader project to formulate, explain and disseminate the unique theoretical edifice of Chabad in terms that were accessible enough to be studied, assimilated and acted upon by any aspiring Chassid for perpetuity.

Grunwald’s general thrust also provides an important counterbalance to the argument advanced by Nehemia Polen (Charismatic Leader, Charismatic Book, 53-64) that the Tanya was designed to craft a balance between control and empowerment, enforcing a rigid structure of social stratification, in which the tzadik is placed on a spiritual plain that the average man (benoni) can never hope to reach. Grunwald’s work complicates this sociological interpretation by demonstrating that during the period of Tanya’s composition the sociological structure of the Chassidic community had not yet been crystallized into distinct hierarchies led by individual tzaddikim, but was rather a complex network with a spectrum of different kinds of authorities and leaders, whose homogeneity Rabbi Schneur Zalman did not seek to break. It is my belief that Tanya’s portrait of the tzaddik in contrast to the average man is primarily to be read theoretically and psychologically rather than sociologically. That is, it relates to the inner world of man, rather than to the external world of the community. As Polen acknowledges, the entire distinction between the tzaddik and the beinoni is such that outwardly the latter may be mistaken for the former. Tanya does discuss the role of the tzadik within the community, but it primarily does so using the terms “wise men” (chachamim), “Torah scholars” (talmidei chachamim), “wise men of the generation” (chachmei ha-dor), and “visionaries of the community” (enei ha-edah), which carry more obvious degrees of social implication. This claim, I believe, is born out by the sources discussed in my article, as cited above, note 24. Moreover, the plural tense of these terms better reflects the less stratified sociological reality of the time.
[29] Levine, HaRav, 661-684; See also the important series of articles by Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Karlin Be-tekufat Galut, in Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, as cited by Levine, Ibid., 662, note 9.
[30] See Rabbi Avraham Abish Shor, Al Harigato Shel Moshiach Hashem, in Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issues 39, 39 and 40.
[31] Levine, HaRav, 668-669. During this more peaceful period a match was arranged between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s widowed son-in-law—Rabbi Shalom Shachne, father of the Tzemach Tzedek of Lubavitch—and Rivka Rivla, the sister of Rabbi Asher of Stolin. See Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 162, p. 139-140.
[32] See the relevant discussions in HaRav, 426-431; Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, 98-100; Jonathan Garb, Yearnings of the Soul (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2015), 50-57. This last source is particularly notable for its emphasis on the respective roles of the mind and the heart in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings, which is also the broader theme of the present essay.
[33] Levine, HaRav, 670-672. See the excerpts appended to Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken (Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 496, 498-500.
[34] HaRav, 400. The coincidence of these two ruptures is underscored in a letter by Rabbi Schneur Zalman noting his inability to respond to Rabbi Avraham’s critique until circa 1799-1800, due “to the distress of the times,” referring to his arrest. See Igrot Kodesh Admur Ha-zaken, 341; HaRav, 672.
[35] See the editor’s Introduction to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (ed. Rabbi DovBer Levine), Igrot Kodesh (Kehot Publication Society, new and improved edition, 2012), 35-37.
[36] With regard to mili de’alma see HaRav, 391, note 13; 409-410. With regard to takonat liozna see HaRav, 398, note 29; 408, note 65. See also Levine, Toldot Chabad Be-russia Ha-tzaarit, 36.
[37] In one of the very last texts penned by Rabbi Schneur Zalman before his passing he even went so far as to justify and explain this central link between material concerns and the spiritual service of G-d. See sources cited and discussed in the editor’s Introduction to Igrot Kodesh, 39. See also Yanki Tauber, “The Physical World According to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi,” Chabad.org, available here.
[38] HaRav, 396-398; 388-389, note 6. See also the discussion by Shor, Kovetz Beit Aharon Ve-yisra’el, Issue 172, 151-152. Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 71-77. For a similar shift in the role that Tanya came to play in this period see above, note 28.
[39] For Grunwald’s extended discussion see HaRav, 432-461. See also Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 75-77 and 117-119. For a particularly extensive discussion of the nature and role of love and awe in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s teachings see Foxbrunner, Habad, 178-194.
[40] Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken Al Maamarei Chazal, 94. HaRav, 453-454. See also Foxbrunner, Habad, 186.
[41] My thanks goes to Rabbi Avraham Altein for bringing this distinction to my attention, and for providing other important comments and citations.
[42] HaRav, 438-552.
[43] HaRav, 433-434. See also Foxbrunner, Habad, 185.
[44] In a discourse delivered in the autumn of 1799 (Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken Ketuvim Vol. 1, 67 [96]), in between the first and second imprisonments (and misleadingly described by Grunwald as “the very beginning of the period following Petersburg”), Rabbi Schneur Zalman describes how to cultivate this cerebral form of love. It is noteworthy that this contemplation is explicitly directed from the mind to the heart:

“Speak to your heart quietly and coolly, which is the opposite of the heated movement of the heart… Settled mindfulness (yishuv ha-daat) is cool, without any movement, and you shall delve deeply into settled mindfulness with ease and calm (be-nachat), and say to your heart: ‘The infinite revelation of G-d creates [existence], something from nothing, at every moment, it is clear in my intellect that this is so… If so how can I be separate [from G-d]? And [how can] all my thoughts and the capacities of my soul not constantly be cleaving to G-d… ?”
[45] See also Loewenthal, Ibid., where similar argument are made drawing on additional textual examples. Loewenthal also demonstrates an increased focus on abnegation (bitul) in contrast to emotionalism.
[46] HaRav, 473-505. See also Levine, HaRav, 675-684. Levine, Introduction to Igrot Kodesh, 49, points out that the year 1805 is when the term “Chabad” comes into use as a way of expressly distinguishing the followers of Rabbi Schneur Zalman from those of other Chassidic leaders.
[47] Loewenthal, Communicating the Infinite, 100-138, and 167-174 and 195. See also Hillman, Beis Rebbi, Part 1, Chapter 26, and Louis Jacobs, Tract on Ecstasy (Vallentine Mitchell, 1963); Louis Jacobs, Seeker of Unity: The Life and Works of Aharon of Starosselje (Vallentine Mitchell, 1966). For more recent comments on Rabbi DovBer, Rabbi Aaron and the interrelationship of their thought see Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream, 210-214, and Garb, Yearnings of the Soul, 56-57.
[48] HaRav, 432-438.
[49] See also the accounts transmitted by Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn in Igrot Kodesh Vol. 3 (Kehot Publication Society, 1983), 477; and in Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Reshimot Ha-yoman (Kehot Publication Society, 2006), 367.
[50] HaRav, 448-449.
[51] Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch, Ohr Ha-torah, Bereishit Vol. 3, 603-604 (Hebrew pagination). This last quote—as well as the source quoted above, note 44—further emphasizes the central role that the heart continued to play in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, even in the later period. See Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken 5570, 207-210 for a discourse delivered by Rabbi DovBer in the lifetime of Rabbi Schneur Zalman, which similarly emphasizes this point, contrasting between the exteriority of the heart and the interiority of the heart (pnimiyut ha-lev). As Loewenthal puts it (Ibid., 122) Rabbi DovBer too demanded ecstasy: “not ecstasy of the self, but of the nonself…”
[52] Hillman, Beis Rebbi, Part 1, Chapter 26, note 4.
[53] Torat Shalom, 213.
[54] HaRav, 563-572.
[55] Maamarei Admur Ha-zaken 5565, 4.
[56] Rabbi Nochum Grunwald, HaRav, 573-586.
[57] Rabbi Nechemia Teichman, HaRav, 587-606.
[58] Grunwald’s description here is inspired by the comment of the Maharshal regarding the achievement of the Tosafists. See Yam Shel Shlomo, introduction to Chulin.
[59] HaRav, 506-562.
[60] For one relevant text that Grunwald does not discuss see Ma’amarei Admur ha-Zaken 5565, Volume 1, 489–90. For my own discussion of this text, as well as a contextualization of Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s approach within the broader streams of Jewish rationalist and mystical thought that differs somewhat from Grunwald’s approach see Eli Rubin, “Intimacy in the Place of Otherness: How rationalism and mysticism collaboratively communicate the Midrashic core of cosmic purpose,” Chabad.org, available here.
[61] HaRav, 544-545. Footnote 99, incidentally, is well worth reading. Among other points there, Grunwald makes explicit reference to Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s Halakhic Man. Indeed, hints to the similarities and differences between the latter’s approach and that of Rabbi Schneur Zalman are already apparent from the onset of Grunwald’s article. For more on this general topic See Elliot R. Wolfson, “Eternal Duration and Temporal Compresence: The Influence of Habad on Joseph B. Soloveitchik,” in Michael Zank and Ingrid Anderson, eds., The Value of the Particular: Lessons from Judaism and the Modern Jewish Experience – Festschrift for Steven T. Katz on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 196-238.
[62] Take for example page 562, footnote 145, where Grunwald gestures to the question of Jewish chosenness as developed in Chabad thought through the generations. For a lengthy treatment of this topic see Wolfson, Open Secret, Chapter 6. See also Eli Rubin, “Divine Zeitgeist—The Rebbe’s Appreciative Critique of Modernity,” Chabad.org, available here, and Wojciech Tworek, Time in the Teachings of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (dissertation submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, University College London, 2014), 126-136. None of these treatments deal with the diburificating statement Grunwald points to Likutei Sichot Vol. 16 (Kehot Publication Society, 2006), 477-478: “When will it be achieved in a revealed sense that the Jews are a dwelling for G-d? …Specifically… when, through the Jews, the lower realms themselves become a place that is fit for G-d’s dwelling… Since the intention of a dwelling in the lower realms is [rooted] in G-d’s essence, it is impossible to say that this intention should be compounded of two things…”
[63] HaRav, 3-124.
[64] HaRav, 125-211.
[65] HaRav, 215-343.
[66] HaRav, 653-658.
[67] HaRav, 701-740.
[68] HaRav, 765-770.
[69] HaRav, 516-528.
[70] HaRav, 693.
[71] HaRav, 698. On Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Halachik work and method Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin, “Shulchan Aruch Admur” in Sofrim Ve-seforim Vol. 2 (Tel Aviv: Hotza’at Sefarim Avraham Tziyoni, 1959), 9-21 [Hebrew], translated and adapted by the present writer as, ‘Systematization, Explanation and Arbitration: Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi’s Unique Legislative Style,” Chabad.org, available here. For an overview of the current state of scholarship on this topic see Levi Cooper, “Towards A Judicial Biography of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady,” Journal of Law and Religion 30, no. 1 (2015), 107-135. On the need to address the relationship between Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s Halachik and Kabbalistic work see Garb, Yearnings of the Soul, 155-157.
[72] Likutei Amarim, Chapter 37. For an extended discussion of the prominent place of the messianic idea in Rabbi Schneur Zalman’s thought, correcting a major gap in previous scholarship, see Wojciech Tworek, Time in the Teachings of Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (dissertation submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, University College London, 2014), especially Chapters 2 and 3. See the related discussion in Foxbrunner, Habad, 85-93, and also Eli Rubin, “The Idealistic Realism of Jewish Messianism: On Chabad’s apocalyptic calculations, and why Jews have always predicted elusive ends,” Chabad.org, available here.
[73] HaRav, 462-472.
[74] HaRav, 469.
[75] HaRav, 470-472.
[76] Torat Shalom, 26.

Maimonides and Prophecy, R. Pinhas Lintop, R. José Faur,  and More Examples of Censorship

by Marc B. Shapiro

1. In my last post here I discussed whether Maimonides believed that the entire people of Israel experienced prophecy at Mt. Sinai. I neglected to refer to Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 8:3, which states:

לפי שנבואת משה רבנו אינה על פי האותות כדי שנערוך אותות זה לאותות זה, אלא בעינינו ראינוה ובאזנינו שמענוה כמו ששמע הוא

This is one of those passages that presents problems for the interpreter, since what Maimonides says in the Mishneh Torah, that all Israel experienced prophecy as Moses did, is contradicted by what he says in the Guide. As is to be expected, R. Kafih takes note of this problem in his commentary to Yesodei ha-Torah 8:3 (p. 165 n. 13), and what he says is fascinating. Commenting on the passage I quoted above, R. Kafih writes:

הדברים אמורים כאן על דרך ההטפה, אבל ברור בדעת רבנו שכל אחד שמע כפי רמתו, וכמשפט כל חזון, ועיין מו”נ ח”ב סוף פ’ לב, ופ’ לג, שם הביא לשון חז”ל במכילתא שמות יט כט משה מחיצה בפני עצמה ואהרן מחיצה בפני עצמה.

What R. Kafih is saying is that Maimonides’ words in the Mishneh Torah, that all Israel “saw and heard[1] with [its] own eyes and ears as he did,” should be understood as rhetoric, designed to have an effect on the reader, but they do not reflect Maimonides’ actual view which is that all of Israel did not see and hear as Moses did.

Regarding this issue, see also R. Kafih’s commentary to Guide 2:33, n. 5, where he writes:

Further discussion of this matter, where R. Kafih elaborates on what he only hinted at elsewhere, can be found in his She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rivad (Jerusalem, 2009), nos. 24-26, where he explains to R. Mazuz what Maimonides had in mind.

In previous writings (books, articles, and posts), I have called attention to many examples where Maimonides writes things that he does not actually believe, so what we have just seen is nothing new. The significance of the example I have mentioned is that R. Kafih accepts this approach as a valid method of explaining a formulation of Maimonides in the Mishneh Torah. For another example from R. Kafih, see his note to Guide 2:45 (p. 268), where he writes:

וברור כי רבנו אמר את הדברים כאן על דרך הדרש וההטפה שדרך המטיף לגדיל ולהפריז בענין.

In Ketavim, vol. 2, p. 619, R. Kafih writes:

אמנם כתב הרמב”ם מה שכתב באיגרת תימן כדי להרתיע את מאמיני משיח השוא, וכדי להשקיט לבות החוככים אם להימין ואם להשמאיל. אבל באמת לא כן עמו.

2. R. Bezalel Naor’s translation of Orot is back in print. This time it is published with the Hebrew text as well. For those who don’t know this work, it is a masterpiece of translation. The introduction and notes are also fantastic. When people ask me what to read to get a sense of R. Kook’s thought and the conflicts it created, one of the things I always recommend is Naor’s introduction to Orot.

On the subject of Naor, I would like to call attention to another work of his which did not get the exposure it deserves. In 2013 he published Kana’uteh de-Pinhas, which focuses on the interesting figure R. Pinhas Lintop, rav of the hasidic (Habad) community of Birzh, Lithuania. R. Lintop was unusual among Lithuanian rabbis in that he intensively studied Kabbalah. He was also a supporter of the Mizrachi movement.[2]

Here is his picture.

                                                                                                             

Those who want to see a picture of his recently discovered tombstone can go here.

Anyone interested in Lithuanian rabbinic thought should examine Kana’uteh de-Pinhas. Among other things, it includes previously unknown letters from R. Lintop to the Chafetz Chaim and R. Kook. It also includes chapters by Naor on aspects of the philosophy of Habad, R. Tzadok, and R. Solomon Elyashiv. 

Naor calls attention to R. Lintop’s view of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles. Unfortunately, I did not know of this when I wrote my book on the subject. R. Lintop is no fan of Maimonides’ concept of dogma or of Maimonides’ intellectualism in general. He rejects the notion that otherwise pious Jews can be condemned as heretics merely because they don’t accept Maimonides’ principles. He even makes the incredible statement that of the great rabbis, virtually all of them have, at the very least, been in doubt about one fundamental principle.

הנה לא הניח בן לאברהם . . . כמעט אין אחד מראשי חכמינו, החכמים הצדיקים כו’ כו’, אשר לא יטעה או יסתפק באחד משרשי הדת

Are we to regard them all as heretics? Obviously not, which in R. Lintop’s mind shows the futility of Maimonides’ theological exercise, which not only turned Judaism into a religion of catechism, but also indoctrinated people to believe that one who does not affirm certain dogmas is to be persecuted. According to R. Lintop, this is a complete divergence from the talmudic perspective.[3]

R. Lintop further states that there is no point in dealing with supposed principles of faith that are not explicit in the Talmud.[4]

הגידה נא, אחי, בלא משוא פנים, היש לנו עוד פנים לדון על דבר עקרים ויסודות את אשר לא נזכרו לנו בהדיא במשנה וגמרא?

As for Maimonides’ view that one who is mistaken when it comes to principles of faith is worse than one who actually commits even the worst sins, R. Lintop declares that “this view is very foreign to the spirit of the sages of the Talmud, who did not know philosophy.” As is to be expected, he also cites Rabad’s comment that people greater than Maimonides were mistaken when it came to the matter of God’s incorporeality.[5]

As part of his criticism of Maimonides and the Jewish philosophers in general, R. Lintop writes, in words similar to those earlier used by Samuel David Luzzatto:[6]

קרבו לנו דעות רבות נכריות וגיירו אותם עד כי היו לאמהות בישראל וגרשו את אמנו האמיתית

In his Pithei Shearim[7] R. Lintop criticizes Maimonides’ view, Hilkhot Melakhim 8:10, that given the power Jews must force non-Jews to adopt the Noahide laws. According to R. Lintop, this command only applied to the seven nations that inhabited ancient Canaan, but does not apply to any other non-Jew, even those living in the Land of Israel. Throughout his discussion, R. Lintop shows a strong moral sense and it is this which leads him to disagree with Maimonides. As he states:

As for those non-Jews who don’t observe the Noahide laws (referring in particular to the commandment against avodah zarah), R. Lintop sees them as blameless as they don’t know any better, having been born into their cultures.[8]

Among other things, I was surprised to see R. Lintop write:[9]

 הגאון המשכיל הנפלא בספרו בשמים ראש רנ”ב בשם אחד מהראשונים

He assumes that Besamim Rosh preserves authentic medieval responsa and yet he also recognizes that the publisher Saul Berlin was a maskil. This is significant since as far as I know, everyone else who believes Besamim Rosh to be authentic has no idea who Saul Berlin was.

Many who have heard of R. Lintop know of his correspondence with R. Kook and assume that they shared the same outlook. This is actually not the case, and in a letter to R. Yaakov Moshe Harlap R. Lintop said as much himself.[10]

כבודו הולך בזה ממש בדרך התחי’ שהולך ידי”נ הגאון מוהרא”י קוק במאמריו וספריו, והנה אמנם יש לי הרבה לדבר בזה כי אינני מהמסכימים לדרכיו, ורבות פלפלתי עמו בזה. הוא חושב כי אהבתינו הגדולה היא מפני השתוות דעותינו, ואני השבתיו כי להיפך מפני אי השתוות דעותינו אנו שואפים אחד להתמלאות מחבירו.

In 2013 the fourth volume of Reuven Dessler’s Shenot Dor va-Dor appeared. This volume contains two lengthy letters from R. Lintop to R. Kook (pp. 414-437). R. Lintop does not hesitate to criticize R. Kook’s understanding of hasidut. One of his criticisms is particularly noteworthy (pp. 435-436). R. Kook had written about how Hasidism is based on the idea of ahavat Yisrael for both the collective and the individual. R. Lintop replies that this is incorrect, as hasidut is not based on ahavat Yisrael but on ahavat avodat Yisrael and ahavat avodat ha-hasidut.

Then comes the following incredible passage, incredible since R. Lintop was at the time serving as rav of a Habad community and was generally quite connected to Habad philosophy, although he himself was not a Habad hasid. Some readers might see this as a purely academic type of statement, but anyone who knows the thought of R. Lintop will realize that this is, if not actually criticism, certainly disappointment with some of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady’s statements.

הכי נוכל לחשוב את חסידות מורנו ורבנו אדמו”ר הזקן לחסידות אהבת ישראל אחרי הניח ליסוד מוסד באגרת הקודש (בתניא ח”ב) וז”ל לא זו הדרך ישכן אור להיות חפץ בחיי בשרים ובני ומזוני כו’ וראשית הכל שישמח האדם ויגל בכל עת ובכל שעה ויחיה ממש באמונתו כו’ ומי שעצב ומתאונן מראה בעצמו שיש לו רע ויסורין וחסר לו איזה טובה והרי זה ככופר ח”ו כו’ ומי שאין שוין לו מראה בעצמו שהוא מערב רב דלגרמייהו עבדין כו’ וע”כ הוא חפץ בחיי בשרים ובני ומזוני . . . בפ’ כ”ד מספר התניא משריש כי האדם העובר על רצון ה’ אפי’ עבירה קלה מד”ס הוא בהתכלית הפירוד מיחודו ואחדותו ית’ יותר מס”א וקליפה הנקראה אלהים אחרים ויותר מבהמה טמאה שקצים ורמשים (ובאגרת הקודש מג פוסק שכל העובר על ד”ס אפי’ באיסור קל של דבריהם חייב מיתה כעובר על חמורות שבתורה והדברים נוראים. גם בא ופוסק להלכה בספרי [!] אורח חיים [צ”ל חושן משפט] חלק ו’ הלכות נזקי גוף ונפש ט’ ישראל שעומד ברשעו תמיד כגון רועה בהמה דקה כו’ וכן כל כיוצא בהם אין כישראל דתם הוציאם מכלל ישראל ורחוק הדבר מאהבת ישראל הכללי.

There are many Habad adherents who read this blog and maybe some of them will want to weigh in on this.

Since, in the passage just quoted, R. Lintop cites the Tanya, let me share something interesting that appears in R. Mazuz’s recently published Asaf ha-Mazkir, p. 558. He mentions having heard that mitnagdim made fun of the Tanya since it begins as follows:

תניא משביעים אותו תהי צדיק ואל תהי רשע ואפילו כל העולם כולו אומרים לך צדיק אתה היה בעיניך כרשע

This comes from Niddah 30b and is stated by R. Simlai. The reason for the mitnagdim’s mocking is that R. Simlai was an amora so therefore the term תניא, which begins R. Shneur Zalman’s work, is inappropriate, as this term is used to introduce a baraita. (R. Mazuz argues that contrary to popular belief R. Simlai was a tanna, yet this is impossible.)

Finally, R. Isaac Nissenbaum tells us that R. Lintop was not a fan of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch.[11] (I wish I knew of this source earlier so I could have included it in my forthcoming article – already with the publisher – on Orthodox responses to Hirsch):

[הוא] הניא אותי מלהמשך אחרי “החורב” של רבי שמשון רפאל הירש, באמרו: “היהדות האמתית היא יהדות התורה ולא יהדות הרגש. היהדות תתקיים בתלמידי חכמים ולא ברגשנים דתיים. . .”

In R. Judah’s day they did not have small kippot like we have. It is obvious that the head covering was a significant item and when removed the man would be bareheaded.

In R. Azriel Hildesheimer’s responsa[14] the publisher included a note from Hildesheimer that informs us that in a copy of R. Judah ben R. Asher’s responsa (from the edition published in Berlin, 1846), there is a handwritten comment to the responsum just discussed. The author of the comment is described as הגאב”ד but it is not known whom this refers to. Alongside the words quoted above, that one who can bear the heat should cover his head, the unknown גאב”ד wrote:

לשון זה הוסיפו המגלים ראש ובכ”י כתוב בזה”ל: וטוב שלא לישב בגלוי הראש בשעת הלימוד כדי שישב באימה יותר ולפעמים מפני כובד החום נראה להקל. כבר נהגתי בעצמי לישב בכובע של פשתן דק כקופוצא בעתות החום לצאת ידי כולם

The Hebrew passage just quoted begins by stating that the comment in Zikhron Yehudah that one can take off one’s head covering if it is hot was added by “those who are bareheaded”.[15] This is followed by a quotation from the manuscript in which R. Judah says that on hot days he would sit with a lighter head-covering than normal. However, even this version has the language וטוב שלא לישב בגלוי ראש which also implies that there is no prohibition to be bareheaded during Torah study. This manuscript also has ולפעמים מפני כובד החום נראה להקל, which implies that one can be completely bareheaded if it is hot, to which it then adds that R. Judah himself did not sit bareheaded but wore a lighter head-covering. I therefore don’t see any substantial difference between the two versions of the responsum, yet the unnamed גאב”ד did see a problem with the first version and assumed that the text had been tampered with by a heretic.

In many prior posts I have discussed the assumption that heretics altered manuscripts (most recently in my posts regarding ArtScroll’s censorship of Rashbam). The example I have just given is one of the first where a rabbinic figure makes this argument about a halakhic text.[16] I have to say that in all of the numerous cases where modern rabbis claim that medieval texts written by great rabbinic figures have been altered by heretics, there is not even one instance where they make a compelling argument. Their approach is always along the line of, “This position goes against what we know to be true, so Rabbi X couldn’t have said it.” In this case there are actually two manuscripts in existence, and the words of one are exactly what we find it in the printed version of Zikhron Yehudah, while the other has the text mentioned by the גאב”ד.[17]

P. 218: I wrote that even a circumcised non-Jew is referred to as an arel. I was asked what my source for this is. I did not need to provide a source for my statement in the book, as it is a basic fact, and can be confirmed by looking in dictionaries. However, for those who want a rabbinic source see Mishnah Nedarim 3:11:

קונם שאיני נהנה לערלים מותר בערלי ישראל ואסור במולי עובדי כוכבים. קונם שאיני נהנה למולים אסור בערלי ישראל ומותר במולי עובדי כוכבים שלא היתה הערלה קרויה אלא לשמם שנאמר כי כל הגוים ערלים וכל בית ישראל ערלי לב

This Mishnah is explicit that even circumcised non-Jews are referred to as arelim.[18]

I would like to thank all those who have sent comments about my book. Only a small amount can be posted but I do try respond to all emails. I believe that I have mentioned all of the corrections. I hope that R. Menahem Lonzano would regard me as one of the ישרים בלבותם, for he wrote:[19]

הישרים בלבותם יאהבו החולק עליהם בדעת וישנאו העוזרם בלי דעת

Unlike Ashkenazic internal censorship of this sort, Sephardic censorship is a relatively new phenomenon (only a few decades old). Here is another example. R. Isaac Abraham Solomon’s book Akim et Yitzhak was published in Baghdad in 1910. On pages 112b-113a he rejects a position of the recently deceased R. Joseph Hayyim, the Ben Ish Hai.

R. Solomon appears to even cast doubt on R. Joseph Hayyim’s integrity when he writes:

וקי”ל ת”ח שאמר מילתא לאחר מעשה אין שומעים לו להחזיק דבריו

This book was reprinted in 1971, and here is how the pages look.

R. Eliyahu Sheetrit reports that R. Ovadiah Yosef was upset with this censorship and annoyed that the publisher thought that he could do as he wished with someone else’s book.[22]

6. There has been a lot written about the murder of Eitam and Na’ama Henkin הי”ד. There has even been a song dedicated to them. See here. Quite apart from the incredible family and personal tragedy, the murder of Eitam is a tragedy for the world of Torah and scholarship. I was planning on writing about this, but people who knew Eitam much better than I have already spoken and I don’t have much I could add to their moving words. I would only note that the amount of significant material published by Eitam is astounding, and I learnt so much from him, both from his printed work and from the many emails we exchanged. It is hard to think of anyone who accomplished so much in so short a period of time. I encourage all who can read Hebrew to examine his website here where many of his writings are found.

In my post here I posted this picture of the grave of R. Joseph Elijah Henkin’s son, Hayyim Shimi, which Eitam kindly sent me.

Someone asked me about the name שימי. We all know this as a nickname for שמעון but this is not something that you would put on a tombstone. I inquired about this from Eitam and here is his reply

אכן השם שלו היה חיים שימי, ואין זה קיצור חיבה של ‘שמעון’ (כמובן לא היו עושים כן על מצבה). הוא נקרא כך, למיטב ידיעתי, על שם סבתו (אם-אמו, חותנתו של הרב הענקין) שימא קריינדל, שנפטרה כשנה וחצי לפני הולדתו.

פעם שאל אותי חסיד אחד, מילא לקרוא לבן ע”ש בת אינו חידוש ומצאנו כן במעלה הדורות, אבל להמציא בשביל זה שם חדש, היכן מצאנו דבר כזה אצל שלומי אמוני ישראל?! והשבתי לו, אולי הגמרא לא מלאה ברב שימי בר אבין [צ”ל אשי] וכיו”ב?

In the post I wrote: “It is noteworthy that R. Henkin saw fit to mention on the tombstone that Hayyim was a student at Yeshiva College (= Yeshivat R. Yitzhak Elhanan).” R. Elazar Meir Teitz correctly pointed out that when Hayyim Shimi (or did they pronounce it “Simi”?) died in 1927, there wasn’t yet a Yeshiva College. This was only established in 1928.[23] However, R. Henkin’s other two sons did attend Yeshiva College.

Eitam also called the following to my attention. In R. Yitzhak Dadon’s Athalta Hi, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 339,[24] this picture appears.

The rabbi on the right is identified as R. Shlomo Goren and the one on the left as R. Dovid Lifshitz. While the one on the right does look like R. Goren, it is actually R. Lifshitz (a fact confirmed to me by Dr. Chaim Waxman, R. Lifshitz’s son-in-law). Eitam informed me that the one on the left is R. Moshe Margolin, the secretary of Ezras Torah. Why did Dadon assume that the rabbi on the left was R. Dovid Lifshitz? He must have seen this photo somewhere with R. Lifshitz identified as appearing in it, and since he assumed that the man on the right was R. Goren, he concluded that the one on the left must be R. Lifshitz.

7. In recent weeks there has been a good deal of outrage after the appearance of an article in Mishpachah that appealed to the Palestinians not to kill haredim since they don’t go on the Temple Mount.[25] There is also an effort underway, supposedly authorized by the Edah Haredit, to publicize the same message in Arabic newspapers. See here. With this in mind, readers should examine the following document, which is found in the Central Zionist Archives S25/4752.[26]

It is a copy of a letter sent to the Supreme Muslim Council in Jerusalem from Aryeh Leib Weissfish. Weissfish was later to become famous as one of the leaders of the Neturei Karta, and strangely enough he was also a great fan of Nietzsche. You can read about his colorful career here, where it mentions how he illegally entered Jordan in 1951 to bring a message from the Neturei Karta that Jordan should invade Jerusalem and the Neturei Karta would be its ally in this. When he was deported to Israel he was put on trial and sentenced to six months in prison.

In view of the fact that there was a fear that Germany would invade the Land of Israel and that this would also lead to the Arabs persecuting Jews, Weissfish wrote to let the Muslim leaders know that the Old Yishuv type of Jews that he is speaking about are not involved in politics and oppose the Zionists. They have always treated the Arabs with respect and he therefore requests that these Jews be protected. He also offers to provide the names of the families who should be given this special treatment. As you can see from Yitzhak Ben-Zvi’s handwritten note at the bottom of the letter, Ben-Zvi copied this from the original letter which he found in the Supreme Muslim Council’s archives.

8. Information about my summer 2016 tours to Central Europe, Italy, Spain, and Germany will soon be available on the Torah in Motion website here.

9. For those who do not own Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, you might be interested in knowing that Amazon is now offering it at a 36% discount ($15.92). See here

  Updates and clarifications

This post is devoted to discuss some of the various comments I have received from many different people regarding part one (here). I will also add in some of the material which I had forgotten to quote for part one [some of which I was reminded of by readers] along with additional material that I have recently uncovered. I apologize for the delay in posting this.  From the outset, I would like to thank all those people who sent in comments regarding the post. I hope to publish the next two parts to this article in the near future.

My email address is eliezerbrodt@gmail.com; feel free to send comments.

Firstly, on the general topic of censorship and especially related to this post, I forgot to mention Professor S. Stampfer’s remarks to me when I discussed with him the general idea of this post: “Those who impose censorship presumably assume that they are wiser than the author whose text they wish to suppress“. [See also his work Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century, p. 11].[1]

 In the beginning of the first part of this post [and in note two], I wrote that that this is a work in progress. In the future, I hope to write an in-depth article exploring other Heterim for reading newspapers on Shabbos. I forgot to mention Rabbi Eitam Henkin’s article on the subject available here. Rabbi Henkin deals with the Netziv Heter in note 24. [Thanks to J. for reminding me about this source].

Rabbi Henkin shows ¹ the similarity of between the Pesak by R’ Moshe Feinstein to that of the Netziv’s.

ושוב שאלתיו איך לנהוג בטילטול איגרת שלום.

תשובה: כיוון דמותר לקראות איגרת שלום בשבת, מותר לטלטלו. דהטעם שאסרו איגרת שלום בטילטול, הוא משום שמא ימחוק (רמב”ם שבת פכ”ג הי”ט, ועי’ או”ח סי’ ש”ז ט”ז ס”ק י”א), וכיוון דאנו נחשבים לגבי האי דינא כחשובים, אין לחשוש שמא ימחוק, כמו דלא חיישינן בחשובים לשמא יטה (סימן ער”ה סעיף ד’). דבאיסור קריאת איגרת נאמרו שני טעמים, אחד משום שמא ימחוק, והשני משום ודבר דבר. ואיסור ודבר דבר הוא רק באופן שקורא בפה, אבל עיון וקריאה שלא בפה מותר. ואיסור קריאה בדרך עיון בעלמא הוא רק משום שמא ימחוק, ועל טעם זה יש בו היתר דאנו נחשבים כחשובים [שו”ת אגרות משה, או”ח, ה, סי’ כב אות ד].

This Teshuvah was purportedly written to Rabbi Y.P. Bodner. However, a check in Rabbi Bodner’s work, The Halachos of Muktza, pp. 7-8, where he publishes the Teshuvot that he received from R’ Moshe Feinstein, nothing of the sort appears regarding this issue. On the other hand, it bears note that in the introduction to this Teshuvah in Igrot Moshe (#21), the editors write that R’ Moshe Feinstein had later added to them comments and corrections. [Thanks to Moshe Kaufman for this source].

In note five I deal with relying on R’ Baruch Halevei Epstein’s Mekor Baruch. I predicted (to myself) that CFP would comment about this [as he has in the past]. Others, as well, have complained to me about relying on this work. I am not going to get into the whole subject at this time; it has been dealt with in the past by many and will probably be dealt with in the future by many more. I plan to write my own thoughts on the topic in the future, B”N. For now, I will quote something related to this [and to some of the other sources I used in this post] from Professor Stampfer’s introduction to his work Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century, (p. 11) related to all this:

The sources I have used in this book… and memoirs are worthy of note. The last category is the most important, and like every other source it has both advantages and disadvantages. Memoirs sometimes provide a more detailed picture than official documents, but most were written many years after the events described and more than likely in consequence to suffer from only partial recall; they also reflect their authors attitudes at the time of writing rather than at the time of the events they describe. In most cases I have assumed that, although what was written may only be part of the truth, the authors would not have deliberately lied. Moreover, almost all my conclusions are based on several sources, so that if one source proves unreliable it does not usually affect my general conclusions.

In the case of the Netziv reading newspapers, I have provided enough ancillary evidence. As for his having permitted reading them on Shabbas and himself having done so, I believe I have provided enough sources for that as well.

CFP commented:

“I don’t know why you assume that the MB’s fabrications – to the extent that they were such – were “common knowledge”. How would the Netziv’s activities, in the privacy of his house on Shabbos, be “common knowledge”? As an insider, RBE had free reign to claim whatever he wanted. The same applies also to R’ Kook. He may not have known what his rebbe did Shabbos morning in his house. But even if he did, there’s no reason to assume that R’ Kook read the entire MB before giving a haskama on it. When assessing the validity of historical evidence, it can be useful to imagine that we’re assessing this same evidence today. Do insiders make claims about great rabbis’ practices that are of dubious veracity? Do people give haskamos on things that they’ve not read in full? It was probably no different then.”

The reason why I assume it was common knowledge is this: Volozhin itself was a small town. Almost whatever the Netziv did was noted by the hundreds of Bochurim who learnt there; other than learning there was almost nothing else to talk about. In present-day Yeshivas, one of the hot topics which Yeshivah Bochurim enjoy discussing is what their Rebbe said or did; I believe this was no different in those days. The simplest way for everyone knew that the Netziv received newspapers was that they noticed his incoming mail. As for their knowledge of what went on in his house, many bochurim ate in his house on Shabbas and Yom Tov, as is clear from the various memoir literature. Thus, I do not think that R’ Epstein had free reign to claim whatever he wanted about the goings on inside the Netziv’s home.

I agree that I cannot prove that R Kook read the whole work in its entirety; I assume it is reasonable that he read all the parts about his Rebbe. Anyone familiar with how much the Netziv meant to him should be able to understand why I believe this. Conversely, I fully agree that people give haskomos to works they do not read, however that specific point has no direct bearing on my conclusions.

One of the memoir sources I quoted a few times in part one was from the various articles written by Micha Yosef Berdyczewski. Micha came from a chassidic home, learned in Volozhin for a short time, and ended up becoming a famous non-religious writer and thinker.[2] Thus, it begs the question how one could rely on such a source.

Berdyczewski wrote a lengthy article about Volozhin in Volume three of HaAssif (1886), pp. 231-242. This article was recently reprinted in his collected writings volume one (pp. 65-75) However, they did not reprint the five page appendix to the article. See the end of this post for the complete article.

The article is well written and appears to be a very accurate portrayal of Volozhin.[3] Many who wrote on Volozhin used it.

Reading the appendix we find that the Netziv helped Berdyczewski, providing him with some information for this article. Berdyczewski quotes two pieces from the Netziv (p. 239, 240).

I contacted the world-renowned expert on Berdyczewski, Professor Holtzman, to inquire if this letter is still around. He was kind enough to send me a scan of the letter and another letter of the Netziv to Berdyczewski. To the best of my knowledge, these letters have never been printed.[4] Follows are the aforementioned letters, with Professor Holtzman’s kind permission, followed by my transcription.

Letter 1

Letter 2

מכתב א

ב”ה ה’ לסדר ויברך אתכם. תרמ”ו. וולאזין.

כאור בוקר יזרח כבוד הר”ר האברך המופלג ושנון שלם ומשכיל על דבר יקר רוח כ”ש מ’ מיכה יוסף ני”ו.

מכתבו הגיע וציו[י]תי להעתיק המצבות. והנם רצוף בזה. והנני להודיעו. כי היינו עוסקים בבנין חומת הישיבה ה”ק. וגם מאריכים אותו כמה אמות. ואנו מקוים ב”ה, כי בחורף הבעל”ט נשוב ללמוד בו.

ע”ד השאלה שהכשיר שו”ב אחד שני ורדות.[5] ונפלא ממני הוראה זו בשתים. חלילה לילך נגד פסק הרמ”א, אשר כבר קבלנו כל מנהגיו שהנהיג. ואפי’ אם הי’ מקום להתיר, אין זה אלא בדעת הרב המו”ץ בקהלה, ולא השוחט. אכן אם להעביר את השו”ב מחמת זה או לא, אין לנו להגיד בזה מרחוק. ואין כל המדינות שוות בהתנהגות השו”ב עם הרבנים.

וה’ ישמרנו מלכד. הנני ידידו העמוס בעבודה

מכתב ב

ב”ה א’ בין כסא לעשור תרמ”ז

ישא ברכת המועד כבוד ידידי החכם המופלג ושלם משכיל על דבר כ”ש מ’ יוסף בארדיטשווסקיא ני”ו

מכתבו הגלוי הגיעני [ו]הנה ספרי מטיב שיר[6] למכירה אין לי כעת כי נשרפו ביום זעם ר”ל. ואלו הי’ לי הייתי שולחו למעל[ת]ו חנם כי מחירו מצער.

ע”ד מבוקשו לספחו לעשרה הנבררים[7] כבר נבררו. ואין עוד מקום. אך אם ירצה מע”כ נ”י להיות שקד בתורה, יכול לבא ולא יחסר לחמו כדרכה של תורה בעת הזאת.

הנני העמוס בעבודה רבה

ידידו נפתלי צביהודא ברלין

In 1888 Berdyczewski printed a journal called Beis Hamedrash which included an article from Rabbi Chaim Berlin [!] where Reb Chaim corrects and adds some important information to Berdyczewski famous article about the History of Yeshivat Volozhin. In this article, which it is obvious Reb Chaim Berlin read, Berdyczewski mentions the Netziv’s reading newspapers and a listing of the many newspapers the Bochurim of Volozhin read in his time.

Rabbi Chaim Berlin’s article was recently reprinted in the Nishmat Hayyim, Mamorim u’Mechtavim, (pp. 329-331) but the name of the person this letter was addressed to, Micha Yosef Berdyczewski, was edited out. [It appears that the commenters on this forum were not aware of this]. See the end of the post for the original article of Rabbi Chaim Berlin.

Professor Holtzman sent me the original letter of Rabbi Chaim Berlin to Berdyczewski and an additional letter of Rabbi Chaim Berlin to him. These letters were not printed before to the best of my knowledge.

Letter 1

Letter 2

 

מכתב א

בעזהי”ת. ג’, ך”א אלול, התרמ”ו. ביאלא.

כבוד הרב וכו’ ה’ ה’ רבא דעמי’ מדברנא דאומתי’

מ’ מיכה יוסף בארדיטשעווסקי הי”ו

ביום ה’ שבוע שעבר, פ’ כי תבא, שבתי ממעינות הישועה דרוזגעניק. אשר הלכתי שמה, עפ”י עצת הרופאים, להחליף כח [מ]צאתי מכתב מעלתו ערוך אלי, עוד בחדש תמוז העבר. אשר לדעתי [כ]בר עבר זמן שאלתו, כי בלי ספק כבר נדפס גם מאמרו הראשון [בה]אסיף. וגם המילואים, בעלי הצפירה. – ובר מן דן, אין אוכל [ל]מלאות בקשתו, טרם היות לנגד עיני, מאמרו הראשון. לזאת חדלתי [מ]חפצו זה.

אך. על ד”ת. אשר שאל בטעם פסק הרמ”א בשם מהרי”ו ז”ל. להטריף גם בחסר וורדא, גם בשתי וורדות. והדברים סותרים זא”ז. ומה גם לפי מנהגינו להכשיר יתרת מקמה?. ובלי ספק. כבר שלטו עיניו בכל [ה]אמור בזה, בט”ז ס”ק ד’. ובש”ך ס”ק י”ז. ולא הונח לו. וע’ עוד בפלתי [ס”ק] ב’. אבל האמת הוא, כמו שביאר רבינו הגר”א ז”ל, בביאורו ס”ק ה’ וס”ק ו’. [?] דבס”ק ה’ כתב. דמש”ה נהגו להטריף בחסר וורדא. כיון שדרכו להיות בכל הבהמות. והיינו. דבבאור הסוגיא קיי”ל כרש”י. דעובדא הוי בוורדא אחת. וא”כ מדינא דש”ס חסר וורדא כשר. כדפירש”י ז”ל. אלא דזה הי’ בזמן הש”ס, דלא הי’ שכיח וורדא אפי’ אחת. אבל לדידן דנשתנו הטבעים. ונמצא וורדא בכל הבהמות שלנו, ממילא, אם חסרה הוורדא, הויא שינוי והוי בכלל חסר. וטרפה. וכ”כ הר”ן בשם הרב אלברגלוני, דעכשיו שיש [לכל] הבהמות שלנו, עינוניתא דוורדא, אי משכחת דלית לה טרפה. וע’ בב”ח שביאר דבריו, דאזיל בשיטת רש”י ז”ל. וכמו שכתבתי.-. ואח”כ בס”ק ו’ ביאר רבינו הגר”א ז”ל, דמשום הכי נהגו להטריף בנמצאו שתי וורדות. משום כל יתר כנטול דמי, והו”ל חסרה הוורדא.-. זהו אמתות הדברים. וכן מצא[תי] גם בלבושי שרד ס”ק נ”ד. שבאות ו’. הקשה כקושיית מעלתו. ובאות ז’ יישב כדעת רבינו הגדול הגר”א ז”ל. ע”ש באריכות.-. ויש עוד לדבר בזה אך לעצר אני צריך. וכבר נתיישבה קושיית מעלתו, בדברים האלה. והי’ זה שלום לו, ולשנה טובה ומתוקה, יכתב ויחתם עם כל הכתוב לחי[ים] טובים בספר. כאשר עם לבבו. וכברכת המוקירו, מבלי הכירו, ומכבדו כערכו, ידידו”ש וטובו לעד. חיים ברלין בהג”מ נצי”ב הי”ו מוולאזין אב”ד דמאסקווא וכעת בביאלא.

מכתב ב

בעזהי”ת. ב’ דחנוכה, שנת “דע את אלהי אביך ועבדהו” לפ”ק

פה ביאלא.

כבוד הרב החכם, משכיל ושלם. חוקר קדמוניות. וחובר חברים.

מ’ מיכה יוסף באדיטשעווסקי הי”ו [??]

הגיעני מכתבו. ולמלאות בקשתו והפצרתו ממני, זה פעמים. במכתב גלוי [וב]מכתב חתום, שמתי עיני על מאמרו, “תולדות ישיבת עץ החיים” בהאסיף [שנ]ת תרמ”ז. ומצאתיו מלא טעויות ושגיאות. והנני סופר ומונה אותם, בפרט, [ב]גליון מיוחד, הרצוף הֵנה – כבקשתו.-.

ואשר הקשה לשאול ממני עוד. לשום עין על ספרו, “תורת העולם והאדם, לפי דרכי התלמוד, והבדילם מן היונים, כולל שטה כוללת מהשקפות התלמוד על עולם ההויה, ועל האנושות. על תורת האדם בפרט חובתו לעצמו ולאחר [ע]רוכים עפ”י דרכי ההגיון וחקירה העיונית”, כל זה לשון כבודו במכתבו [ש]דרש ממני לתת לו הסכמה על ספרו זה. בתתו לפני מפרק אחד ממנו. ואנכי מה אשיב לו. – האמת אגיד לכבודו. כי מעולם לא ראיתיו, ולא שמתי שמו וזכרו. ואינני יודעו ומכירו. אך את זה אני רואה שהגיע להוראה [ו]הוא גם מורה ואב”ד בישראל. ואחרי אשר כבר פנוי הוא להתעסק בענינים [א]לה. בלי ספק. כבר כל מקצועות שבתורה, הנחוצים להוראה, והם ש”ס בבלי וירושלמי, ותוספתא, וספרי רבותינו הראשונים, הרי”ף והרמב”ם [וה]רא”ש, וכל נושאי כליהם. וספרי ארבע טורים, וארבע שו”ע עם כל נושאי כליהם האחרונים הגאונים ז”ל. אשר כל אלה, נחוצים המה לרב ומורה, ובפרט בזה”ז. שא”א להורות. מבלי שיהא הרב בקי גם בספר פרי מגדים, בית אפרים, תבואות שור, לבושי שרד, סדרי טהרה, וכדו[מה.] ובלי ספק. כבר כל הספרים האלה, ערוכים ושמורים על דל שפתיו וד[מי] לי’ כמאן דמנחי בקופסי’. ואשר ע”כ הוא פנוי לבלות זמנו על ענינים אלה – [אבל] אנכי העני, אודה ולא אבוש, כי עדין לא הגעתי לידי מדה זו להיות כל התורה כלה, ערוכה על דל שפתי, ועוד זמני יקר לי, למיהדר תלמודא, ולא לעסוק בענינים אלה, ובאתרא דעייל ירקא, ליעול בשרא וכוורי.-. ואשר ע”כ רחוק אני מִתֵת הסכמה, על ענינים אלה. אשר עוד לא ירדתי לכוונתם ולתכליתם. ולא ידעתי מה המה. ובספרי רבותינו הגאונים הראשונים והאחרונים ז”ל. לא מצאתי דוגמתם. והמקום יפתח לבי בתורתו, דבר ה’ זו הלכה. וישים בלבי אהבתו ויראתו, לעשות [רצונו] ולעבדו בלבב שלם. כאשר עם לבבי.-.

מתולדות הגאון ר’ משה חפץ ז”ל. לא ידעתי מאומה. אם כי ספרו מלאכת מחשבת נמצא בידי. אך בלי ספק. נמצא הוא גם ביד כבודו. ויוכל לשאוב ממנו, את הדרוש לתולדות ימיו. ויותר מזה לא ידעתי.-.

יהי ה’ עמו, ויענה את שלומו, ככל חפצו, וחפץ ידידו, המכבדו כערכו, ומוקירו, מבלי הכירו, דו”ש וטובו לעד. חיים ברלין

A short time later Berdyczewski published several more articles related to Volozhin, one of which was a five chapter piece about the Yeshivah, titled Olam Ha-Atzeilus, printed in Hakerem in 1888. While this article does contain valuable information, it’s written in a different style than his earlier article. It was reprinted in the excellent collection Yeshivot Lita (pp. 132-151) and in the small Booklet Pirkei Volozhin (1984).

Another series of articles about Volozhin, written at the same time, was called Tzror Mechtavim Me-Eis Bar Be Rav and caused a great commotion. The series was printed in Ha-Melitz, starting from January 1888 and onwards. The series was written under a pen name, and only in the last issue did Berdyczewski sign his name.

In a memoir from someone who learnt in Volozhin at the time Berdyczewski’s articles were printed we find:

בעת ההיא הופיע בהמליץ פיליטון שנתן לדפוס ע”י בערדיצעוסקי… במאמר ההוא ציר הסופר בציורים נאמנים את חייהם של בני הישיבה את ענים ומרודם ואת לחציהם ובשבט עברתו הכה על ימין ועל שמאל את מנהלי הישיבה את חקיהם ומשפטיהם וכמעביר צאנו תחת שבטו כן העביר תחת שבט הבקורת את כל המנהגים מן ראש הישיבה עד השמש. המאמר ההוא עשה רושם גדול על מנהלי הישיבה וביחוד על ראשי הישיבה. בני הישיבה התיחסו אל המאמר ההוא בכובד ראש והעריצו את הסופר… [יהושע ליב ראדוס, זכרונות, עמ’ 68].

Radus continues in his autobiography that they had suspected someone specific in the Yeshiva for having authored these articles and that although Berdyczewski was involved in their writing, he was not the author. Radus writes that while this person was thrown out of Volozhin, he eventually became a renowned Rav. Unfortunately he does not name the person.

Regarding the Mekor Baruch, I wrote: “His work received a glowing haskamah from Rav Kook”.

In volume four of Mekor Baruch, at the end of the volume (pp. 14-15) R’ Epstein prints a letter from Rav Kook about the sefer but he does not print the whole letter. Rav Kook writes:

אבל יחד עם סדרי הזכרונות… וחותם האמת הטבוע עליהן…

For recent discussion about this letter see Eitam Henkin and Shmaria Gershuni, Alonei Mamreih 122 (2009)  (p.186).

Another comment regarding Mekor Baruch’s report was sent to me from Moshe Maimon:

R. Mazuz in his Mekor Ne’eman references the Mekor Baruch’s report twice. On p. 95 he relies on it to be Matir reading newspapers on shabbos and on p. 254 in a letter to Moshe Chavusha he quotes it to defend himself for citing R. Ovadia’s practice of listening to the radio every day.

More on the Netziv and reading newspapers:

In 1881, Rabbi Baruch Epstein wrote an article in Hamelitz about Volozhin defending it from various attacks in the newspapers. He describes Volozhin and the Netziv in depth:

מה אומר ומה אדבר על תכונת נפש נעלה של האיש הדגול מרבבה הגאון הנאור ר’ נצי”ב הי”ו… רוב מכ”ע לב”י ואחד בשפת רוססיא נמצאים בביתו, והוא אחד מן הזריזים הקודמים לקנות ספר חדש היוצא בעברית, יהיה מאיזה רוח ושיטה שהוא…”. [המליץ, יז, יום ב אדר תרמ”א (1881), גליון 3, עמ’ 54].

I am doubtful he would write something like this in a public forum, during the Netziv’s lifetime, if it was not true.

More on the Netziv and reading newspapers

In Shut Meishiv Davar we find a few more times that the Netziv refers to articles he read in newspapers.

ראיתי בכבוד הלבנון (משיב דבר, ב, סי’ קח)

ע”ד מאמר הגירושין בצרפת, הגיע לפה עלה הצפירה נו’ 44 וראיתי מאמר ותרגז בטני… (משיב דבר,ג, סי’ מט).

This last Teshuvah was actually printed in the Ha-Tzefirah before it was printed in the Meishiv Davar. Here is the original article:

But elsewhere in Meishiv Davar we find the Netziv writes:

 ראיתי שהמופלג ומדקדק הר’ אברהם לאנדמאן שי’ דקדק אחרי מש”כ בהעמק דבר… [משיב דבר, ב, סי’ קט].

In Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin (p. 60) this teshuvah was printed with a few more words:

ראיתי בהמליץ נו’ 120 אשר המפולג ומדקדק הר’ אברהם לאנדמאן שי’ דקדק אחרי מש”כ בהעמק דבר…

Even more interesting is this letter was originally printed in the Hameilits. Here is the original:

However, it is apparent that based upon further evidence, Rabbi Taubies claim has no basis.

In part one of this article I cited a remarkable story from R’ Eliyahu Milikovsky about a Response that the Netziv wrote to an article in the HaMaggid. One might say that R’ Milikovsky’s memory failed him and he recalled the wrong newspaper. However here is the newspaper article written by the Netziv in the HaMaggid, referred to in this story. [Quoted in Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin, pp. 54-56]

The Netziv was responding to this article.

That aside, as we have shown in part one of this article, the Netziv quotes HaMaggid in his seforim. These quotes and their subsequent censorings were discussed there as well.

Here are some additional articles by the Netziv published in HaMaggid

This is reprinted in Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin, (pp.198-199)

There are more pieces of the Netziv in HaMaggid which will be discussed in a later post.

It bears mention that many other Gedolim also read and wrote in HaMaggid; see for example this piece of the Dikdukei Sofrim (one of many).

R’ Chaim Berlin (more on this shortly) also read the HaMaggid.

New evidence about the Netziv reading newspapers on Shabbas (and Censorship):

At the end of the January 7, 1869 issue of the Ha-Levonon newspaper there appeared an announcement regarding a new sefer that was to be printed soon for the first time from manuscript, namely The Ritva’s work on Nidah and his Sefer Ha-Zechron. Sefer Ha-Zechron is a defense of the Rambam from the Ramban’s various critiques in his Pirish Al Hatorah. After the announcement, Zalman Stern wrote a comment dealing with the subject of the Rambam’s reasoning for Korbonos.[8]

Less than a month later, in the February 11th issue of the Ha-Levonon newspaper, the Netziv wrote a lengthy response to Stern’s comment. The article is a beautiful essay by the Netziv, related to the reasoning for Korbonos.[9]

The Netziv begins his article with the following sentences:

הגיעני מווילנא על ש”ק שני עלי לבנון משנת ששית. וקראתי לשבת עונג מפרשת העלים ומדברי מע”כ שי’ המפקידים חן ודעת שכל טוב. ובהגיעי לנו 2 בבשורת סי’ הזכרון להריטב”א ז”ל נרגשתי במה שהעיר חכם א’ מעצמו וגם בשם האברבנאל ז”ל השגה…

Here we have, in black and white, the Netziv writing about himself that he read the newspaper on Shabbas![10]

In 1993, this article was reprinted in the previously mentioned new edition of the Meishiv Davar  (5:90). While they do cite that the source of this article is from the Ha-Levonon (but not an exact location) the first three lines I just quoted are missing and the piece begins with the words נרגשתי במה שהעיר חכם א’

Rabbi Chaim Berlin and Reading Newspapers in general:

In a letter[11] to Avraham Eliyhau Harkavy he writes:

האמנם כי מתענג אנכי לעתים, למצוא את דברי חכמת, המאירים כספירים, על דלתי מכה”ע השונים, וגם בספרים מיוחדים, יקרים מפנינים, אבל משנה שמחה הי’ לי הפעם, בשלח ידידי את הספר, לי לשמי, וארא, כי כמוני כמוהו, עודנו זוכרים איש את רעהו, וכי נאמנו דברי המלך החכם, כי כמים הפנים, כן הלבב, ואהבה טהרה ונאמנה לעולם עומדת [שנות דור ודור, א, עמ’ קצט (=נשמת חיים, מאמרים ומכתבים, עמ’ שלט)].

Elsewhere he writes:

הן ראיתי את הרב מי’ שאול הכהן קאצענעלינזאהן, עומד על המצפה, בצופה נומר 30… [אוצר רבי חיים ברלין, נשמת חיים, א, סי’ רח].

הנני להודיע לכבודו את הרשום אצלי… אשר זה מקרוב גמגמו מהבנת לשונו גדולים חקרי לב העומדים על המצפה בצופה להמגיד שנה זו… [נשמת חיים, סי’ קצט].

Although Rabbi Chaim Berlin read newspapers he writes:

את העלה ממכתב העתי ההולאנדי הגיעני, ואם כי עלי להודות לו כי חובב הוא את דברי לפרסמם ברבים בשמי, בכל זה האמת אגיד לו, כי אין דעתי נוחה כל כך מהדפסת דברי תורה במכתב עתי, מטעם המבואר בפ”ק דרה”ש יח ב’ שבטלו חכמים להזכיר שם שמים בשטרות שלמחר נמצא שטר מוטל באשפה. ומי לא ידע, שמכתבי העתים מסוגלים לזה, שלוקחים אותם בחניות לכרוך בהם כל מיני סחורות וכדומה ולמחר מוטלים באשפה ח”ו על כן לא ירד בני בזה [אור המזרח, לה:א (תשמ”ו), עמ’ 44-45 (=ר’ אליעזר ליפמן פרינץ, פרנס לדורו, ירושלים תשנ”ב, עמ’ 326-327 ; נשמת חיים, מאמרים ומכתבים, עמ’ קסט)][12].

The Netziv writes about printing newspaper articles in Torah:

טרם אענה אני אומר, שאין הדבר נוח לי לפלפל בד”ת בעלי עתים, וכבר אמרו חז”ל חמוקי ירכיך נמשלו ד”ת לירך מה ירך בסתר אף ד”ת בסתר, ורק בראותי דבר מפליא שהיה אפשר להרבות ממזרים בישראל ח”ו, ראיתי חובה להודעי במקום רבים כי אין זה הוראה אלא טעות… (אגרות הנצי”ב ממלאזין, עמ’ נז).

Newspaper articles by Rabbi Chaim Berlin:

Although it appears from the above quoted letter that Rabbi Cham Berlin was against writing newspaper articles, we do find that he did write some. For example:

In the June 24, 1868 issue of Ha-Levonon we find an article of Rabbi Chaim Berlin.[13]

A few months later in the August 26, 1868 issue Ha-Levonon we find another article of Rabbi Chaim Berlin.[14]

It could be that he wrote those two articles as they were important issues but in general he did not write articles of Random Torah.

In the 1993 edition of the Shut Meishiv Davar, after reprinting this piece by Rabbi Chaim Berlin, they print a letter that the Netziv wrote to him on the subject.

Rabbi Rafael Shapiro, brother in law of R’ Chaim,[15] also argues on this Pesak and begins his Teshuvah as follows:

הן הגיעני זה כשתי שבועות עלי הלבנון נו’ ט’ שם ראיתי את חידושיו… ולדעתי לא כן ידמה…

R’ Chaim’s great-uncle, Rabbi Meir Berlin, also has a Teshuvah on the subject. He takes issue with R’ Chaim’s Pesak, begining his teshuva stating:

הובא לפני עלה א’ מלבנון… [אוצר רבי חיים ברלין, שו”ת נשמת חיים, א, עמ’ שיב-שיד].

In his memoirs about Volozhin, a student writes:

בנו הרב הגא’ ר’ חיים ברלין שנתמנה אחר זמן לרב במסקבה היה כותב במ”ע מאמרים על דרך השכלה והיה סופר מצוין בכתב ולשון ארמית שכתב בה מאמרים על טהרת לשונה… [משה יאפעט, רשומות וזכרונת, קובנה תרפ”ד, עמ’ 10]

Rabbi Chaim Berlin and Reading Newspapers on Shabbas:

Printed in Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin is a letter by Rabbi Chaim Berlin, dated Sunday 1892.[16] In the letter he writes as follows:

בשבת אתמול בסעודת ש”ק [=שבת קודש] בחברת מרעים כבדים, אהובים וידידים, רבנים מצוינים, וגבירים אדירים, עלה לפנינו עלה מכה”ע [=מכתב עת] המליץ, מיום ג’ העבר, נו’ 139, ושם נאמר…

Here is an image of the Newspaper that they were reading:

Additions to note six about the Journal ‘Ittur Sofrim’: I should have mentioned that the Netziv was not happy about it at first, as he thought it would take away too much time from Rav Kook’s learning.[17] 

Worth pointing to is Berdyczewski’s quote from the Netziv when he was asked about starting a Torah Journal for the Bochurim to print some of their ideas

דכירנא כד הוינא בהישיבה, התעוררו הרבה תורנים משכילים ליסד מכתב עתי תורני, אשר בו יבואו חידושים כתובים ברוח הגיון, כללים הנמצאים בש”ס, מאמרים העוסקים בחכמת ישראל וספרותו, וכשאר באו להנצי”ב לבקש כי ישתדל בעדם רשיון הממשלה על זה אז גער בהם פן… התעדו קוראים נכבדים מה הוא הפן הזה? לא דבר אשר יכול להורס חלילה את מוסדי הישיבה מהשקידה הגשמית, על ידי עסקם בכתיבה… [הכרם תרמ”ח (=כתבי מיכה יוסף ברדיצ’בסקי, א, עמ’ 97]

As one can see from the Netziv’s Haskamah to Ittur Sofrim here:

Rabbi Aaron Felder writes that he once asked Rav Moshe Feinstein about Rav Kook, to which Rav Moshe responded:

שבצעירותו היה הרב קוק אורך של ירחון תורני, והיו טוענים מכיריו שאין ראוי לאדם גדול שכמותו להיות אורך ירחון ומבחינת שאינו לפי כבודו [רשומי אהרן, א, עמ’ כח].

 Moshe Reines wrote in an article in the journal Beis Hamedrash printed in 1888:

גם חסרון ספ”ע מקדש לתורה ולהגיון לחקירה ולבקרת הוא חסרון מורגש בספרותנו, אולם החסרון הזה ימנה כנראה בקרוב, כי הנה הרה”ג ר’ אברהם יצחק הכהן קוק רב בעיר זימעל… אומר לה”ל מכ”ע חדשים כזה בשם עיטור סופרים, המקדש לתורה ולתועדה, וכבר נתנה החברת הראשונה בדפוס נחכה נא ונראה היצליח ד’ את דרכו אם לא [בית המדרש 1888, עמ’ 86].

See also R. Shmuel Alexandrov, Michtavei Meckar Ubikurut, 1, Vilna 1907, p. 7; R’ Mordechai Gimpel Yoffe’s letter to Rav Kook in Igrot LiRaayah, p. 17; R’ Kluger’s letter Ibid, pp. 26-27; Y. Mirsky, Rav Kook, Mystic in a time of Revolution, pp. 20-21.

Addition to note seven: The new version of ‘Ittur Sofrim’ does not say where their copy of Rav Zev Turbavitz’s letter about the Heter of the Netziv is from.

Rabbi Baruch Oberlander sent me a reference to Rav Zev Turbavitz’s Shut Tifres Ziv (1896), pp. 51-55 where he has a lengthy Teshuvah about reading newspapers on Shabbas in the beginning he writes:

 אמנם כעת יצא לאור ספר אחד ראיתי בו מכתב מאחד מגדולי הזמן שהביא….

In this Teshuvah he does not write the Netziv’s name nor the journal’s name nor does he write as sharply as he does in the letters I quoted from him to the Aderet and Rav Kook. But he does take strong issue with the Netziv’s Heter, going through the Sugyah at great length.

Addition to note eight: Both editions of Rabbi Chaim Berlin’s Teshuvot fail to mention the source of this Teshuvah; it’s printed in the back of the Shut Bikurei Shlomo (1:321). See also Shut Nishmat Chaim, p. 343, where he mentions he printed the Teshuvot found in Shut Bikurei Shlomo but he does not say where he did so.

Addition to note nine: The reference Shut Bikurei Shlomo siman, 3-4 includes a Letter of Rabbi Yehosef Zechariah Stern on this topic. In the new edition of the Shut Zecher Yehosef printed by Mechon Yerushalyim (2014), they reprinted this Teshuvah with many additions (2, pp. 437-440) from the notes of R’ Stern which he wrote on the side of his copy of Shut Bikurei Shlomo.

Who censored the 1894 edition of the Meishiv Davar?

In the Shar of the Sefer of both editions it says it was printed:

בהוצאת אשת הגאון זצלה”ה ובניה

I am not sure how much the sons Meir and Yakov had to do with the printing. Meir was fourteen years old at the time and Yakov was about seventeen[18].

R’ Chaim Berlin wrote to Rabbi Eliezer Lipman Prins:

מכ”י מר אבא הגאון החסיד זצלה”ה נדפס אחר פטירתו, שו”ת משיב דבר ע”י אלמנתו, הדרה בוורשא, ואך ממנה יכול רום מעלתו להשיגו, על פי האדרססא שארשום בשולי מכתבי, ובידי לא נמצא כי אם ספר אחד למעני [אור המזרח, לה:א (תשמ”ו), עמ’ 44-45 (=ר’ אליעזר ליפמן פרינץ, פרנס לדורו, ירושלים תשנ”ב, עמ’ 324; נשמת חיים, מאמרים, עמ’ עח)].

I would say the Netziv’s wife had much more to do with the printing than her sons, however I do not think that Batyah Mirel Berlin[19] was the type to censor such a thing. According to her granddaughter’s description of her:

בשעות הפנאי המעטות שלה עיינה סבתא בעיתונים ובספרי הקודש בחומש ובנביאים, בהם הייתה בקיאה למדי [טובה ברלין פפיש, ספר וולוז’ין, עמ’ 481 (= צלילים שלא נשכחו, עמ’ 55)].

Furthermore her father the author of the Aruch Hashulchan writes:

נ”ל דכתבי העיתים אינם בכלל זה ומותר בחול לקרותן שהרי הם מודיעים מה שנעשה עתה וזה נצרך להרבה בני אדם לדעת הן במה שנוגע לעסק והן במה שנוגע לשארי עניינים אבל עניינים שכבר עברו מן העולם מה לנו לדעת אותם וכן כל דברי הבלים שיש בהם שחוק וקלות ראש וק”ו דברי עגבים עון גדול הוא ובעוה”ר נתפשטו עתה בדפוסים ואין ביכולת למחות בידם  (ערוך השלחן, סי’ שז ס”ק ט).

Here is an advertisement published shortly after the Netziv died, asking for financial assistance for completing the printing of the Meishiv Davar.

Appendix One:

Appendix Two:

Self-Censorship in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, ArtScroll’s Latest Betrayal, and Other Assorted Comments

Marc B. Shapiro

1. R. Mordechai Rabinovitch has recently published the second volume of his commentary on the Arukh ha-Shulhan, dealing with the laws of Hanukkah. I strongly encourage anyone who prepares for the holiday by studying the halakhot in the Arukh ha-Shulhan to use R. Rabinovitch’s valuable work.

Interestingly, R. Rabinovitch vocalizes the work as Arokh ha-Shulhan. This is based on the fact that these words, with this vocalization, appear in Isaiah 21:5. Yet this is incorrect. As R. Eitam Henkin has pointed out, when the work was published by R. Epstein himself, the title in Russian also appeared on the binding. R. Epstein knew Russian very well, and the Russian reads “Arukh”. Henkin also notes that in the edition published in Vilna by his daughter, the title appeared in Latin letters. Once again we see that it was pronounced “Arukh”.[1] This latter point might have been known to some long-time readers of the Seforim Blog, as this page with the Latin letters was reproduced in this post from 2007. Here it is again.

The Arukh ha-Shulhan was the subject of a dispute between R. Shaul Yisraeli, a member of the Supreme Rabbinic Court (Beit Din ha-Gadol) and Menachem Elon, of the Israeli Supreme Court. The context was that France had requested that Israel extradite a criminal. Elon argued that this was permitted according to Jewish law. In support of this he cited Arukh ha-Shulhan 388:7, which states that there is no law of mesirah when dealing with a civilized government and legal system, such as in Czarist Russia[!] and England. Here is the text.

When challenged by R. Shaul Yisraeli that the text in the Arukh ha-Shulhan was written with an eye to the anti-Semitic government, Elon defended his position that the text is R. Epstein’s authentic opinion.[2] I don’t wish to get into this dispute at present,[3] and readers interested in the topic can consult R. Michael Broyde’s article “Informing on Others for Violating American Law: A Jewish Law View”, available here. 

R. Rabinovitch’s new commentary is also relevant to this debate, since he identifies examples of what he regards as self-censorship in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, and these are in areas not as potentially problematic as the halakhot dealing with mesirah. In his discussion of the Hanukkah story, Arukh ha-Shulhan 670:3, R. Epstein writes: שכשנכנסו אנשי אנטיוכס להיכל. Yet in the Talmud it states שכשנכנסו יוונים להיכל. R. Rabinovitch suggests that this is an example of self-censorship.[4] At first I thought that this was somewhat far fetched. I didn’t think that there was any reason to fear that government officials would be offended by a simple historical description that mentions the ancient Greeks. However, S. wrote to me as follows.

Yevanim was a particularly loaded term in Russia (for historical purposes this includes regions outside of Russia proper, like Ukraine), because Jews called the non-Jews Yevanim. They did so because many Ukrainians were of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (the Russian Orthodox Church is an Eastern Orthodox Church and in that way ‘related’ to Greece as well). It is for this reason that Hanover called his account of the Khmelnitzky massacres Yeven Metzula, and refers to the Cossacks as yevanim – but we can see it from other sources, too. For example, see attached for a horrifying account of a massacre on the second day of Pesach 1655. You can see he calls the Cossacks yevanim (from here).

Supposedly it was also a play on the name Ivan, but I’m not sure if that’s just folk etymology. But more importantly, we can see that some works took it seriously and changed yevanim to something else, to avoid offending the censor. See here where changing yevanim to “yehirim” in Maoz Tzur was a somewhat common change.

And see here where it documents in the 1840s that Jews called the Russians yevanim  – and doubtless you can show it from many Yiddish sources, too. See here where I discuss how the Slavuta Talmud actually changes a gemara; “Rabbi said, why speak Syriac in Eretz Yisrael? Speak Hebrew or Greek!” to “Speak Hebrew or Akum!” 

So in my view the Arukh Ha-Shulchan definitely deliberately wrote Antiochos.

We can argue about whether this or that particular halakhah in the Arukh ha-Shulhan is an example of self-censorship, but there can be no doubt about the basic fact that R. Epstein did indeed censor himself for fear of the Czar. All one needs to do is see his fawning essay “Kevod Melekh”, at the beginning of Arukh ha-Shulhan, Hoshen Mishpat, to get a sense of the environment he had to operate in. In this essay he tells the reader how much the Jews love the Czar, and that is why they pray for him and his family every Shabbat and Yom Tov.

R. Eliyahu Zini,[5] whose books I hope to discuss in a future post, points to a clear example of the Arukh ha-Shulhan’s self-censorship in Orah Hayyim 329:9. There he writes:

לסטים שצרו על בתי ישראל אם באו על עסקי ממון . . . אבל אם באו על עסקי נפשות להרוג ולאבד או אפילו באו סתם והיינו שאין ידוע לנו על מה באו הוה ג”כ כבבירור על עסקי נפשות דסתם לסטים הם הורגי נפשות יוצאים עליהם בכלי זיין ומחללין עליהם את השבת ובזמן הקדמון בזמן שבהמ”ק היה קיים ובאו לעיר העומדת על הגבול. . . .

This halakhah is derived from Eruvin 45a, but in this text there is no mention of bandits – לסטים. Rather, the Talmud is speaking of non-Jews – נכרים (an alternate reading cited by Dikdukei Soferim is גוים). Secondly, there is nothing in the Talmud about the last halakhah I quoted only applying in the era when the Temple stood. These changes made by R. Epstein were due of fear of creating problems with the government. I think this is as clear as it can be, which makes it very surprising that R. Ovadiah Yosef took the Arukh ha-Shulhan at face value that the latter halakhah only applied in the days of the Temple. R. Ovadiah then points out that the Shulhan Arukh disagrees, seeing the halakhah as also applying in contemporary times.[6]

R. Zini cannot contain himself at this (mis)understanding of R. Ovadiah, and as he often does, he rejects R. Ovadiah’s point very strongly.[7]

ומי פתי הוא זה שלא יבין שבעל ערוך השלחן “צינזר את עצמו” מפחד הצאר, כפי שעשה בעשרות מקומות בספרו זה . . . ופלא נשגבה ממני איך הגר”ע יוסף שליט”א לא הבחין בכך?!

As mentioned already, the Talmud, Eruvin 45a, uses the word נכרים. This means non-Jews, and only non-Jews. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I saw that the Soncino translation has the following: “If foreigners besieged Israelite towns.” Since there is no way that the translator, who was a learned man, could have made such a mistake, I can only assume that this translation was also designed to avoid any non-Jewish ill will.

Since the author of the Arukh ha-Shulhan, R. Jehiel Michel Epstein, was the brother-in-law of R. Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, now is a good place to note the problem with one of the titles of R. Berlin’s works. His commentary to R. Ahai Gaon’s She’iltot is העמק שאלה. How should these words be pronounced? Some scholars write Ha-Amek She’alah, basing themselves on Isaiah 7:11. However, Gil S. Perl argues that the correct pronunciation is Ha-Amek She’elah. As he puts it, if the pronunciation in Isaiah was intended, “the title would mean ‘sink to the depths,’ the ‘depths’ (from the word she’ol) being a reference to the netherworld or Hell—a rather strange title for a work of halakhic commentary.” Perl therefore suggest that the Netziv “intended his title as a play on those words from Isaiah pronounced Ha’amek She’alah, meaning ‘delve into the question” or perhaps ‘delve into the She’ilta.’”[8]

Speaking of proper pronunciation of titles, ArtScroll might play a positive role in this. Since today so many people studying Talmud are using ArtScroll, they will see that the tractates are pronounced “Arachin”, not “Eruchin”, and “Horayos”, not “Horiyos”. So I hope that these yeshivish pronunciations will soon be a thing of the past, at least among English speakers, and if so this will be thanks to ArtScroll. Furthermore, since their edition of the Midrash Rabbah has started to appear people in yeshiva circles will begin to use it, and slowly the pronunciation “Medrish” may go by the wayside (at least we can hope so). Now if we could only rid people of the pronunciation “ikrim” instead of “ikarim”.

Having said all this, it is also the case that general convention can sometimes trump proper grammatical pronunciation. For example, take the words נודע ביהודה which appear Psalms 76:2. These words are pronounced Noda Bihudah, yet when referring to the book by this title the convention is to write Noda bi-Yehudah, even though this is not the correct pronunciation.

For those who want to see a bit of “Sephardic supremacy” when it comes to pronunciation, see this video where R. Ovadiah really lets the Ashkenazim have it.

Returning to the Arukh ha-Shulhan, its significance has declined in the last two generations. While figures such as R. Joseph Elijah Henkin, R. Moses Feinstein, and R. Yaakov Kamenetsky regarded the Arukh ha-Shulhan as more authoritative than the Mishnah Berurah,[9] not many poskim still have this perspective. Whereas the Arukh ha-Shulhan used to stand on its own, in our day we have seen the publication of an edition of the Arukh ha-Shulhan accompanied by the pesakim of the Mishnah Berurah, the point of which is to let the reader know that while one can study the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a theoretical work, when it comes to practical halakhah one must follow the Mishnah Berurah.[10]

The truth is that one can use the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a work of practical halakhah just like one can use the Mishnah Berurah. This reminds me of an experience I had many years ago when I believe I was still in high school. I was at a shiur where the rabbi was learning Mishnah Berurah. After reading one halakhah in the Mishnah Berurah he pointed out that “we don’t hold like this”. A member of the audience asked how one who learns the Mishnah Berurah by himself is supposed to know when that is the case, that is, when “we don’t hold” like it. The rabbi replied that this is why it is important to have a rav, so that you will know when we follow the Mishnah Berurah and when we don’t.

Even though I was quite young I thought that this was a mistaken reply, and the many years subsequent have not changed my mind. It is of course important to have a rav, but not for the reason the rabbi said. There is absolutely nothing wrong with someone learning the Mishnah Berurah (or Arukh ha-Shulhan) and following everything in it. One doesn’t need, and it would be an impossible task, to ask his rabbi about each and every halakhah if this is what “we follow”. One who lives in an Orthodox community will learn that sometimes the community practice is more lenient than what appears in these works, and sometimes it is more strict. It is in those circumstances that I think that one should consult one’s rav, and ask him if despite common practice it makes sense to be lenient in accord with either of these texts, or if one should be strict as recommended by either the Mishnah Berurah or Arukh ha-Shulhan even though the common practice is not like this. But as a general rule, and I have never had a teacher who thought otherwise, one can rely on either of these classic halakhic texts.

2. Many people were distressed to see the sources from great pre-modern poskim that spoke about all sorts of physical mutilation, including R. Asher ben Jehiel agreeing that an adulteress’ nose could be cut off. I have mentioned in the past, but it bears repeating here, that the various punishments seen were also found in the contemporary non-Jewish society.[11] I know this may be troubling to some readers, to see that leading rabbis had an approach to punishment that today people regard as barbaric. Yet there really is no alternative, as to a certain extent, every generation reflects the general values of society at large. Halakhah and Jewish thought are often likewise affected in this way. I have provided numerous examples of this throughout the years, so there is no need to go through it again.[12]

3. In a question “ripped from the headlines”, I was asked if I know of any past examples of someone secretly observing women in the mikveh. I don’t of any such cases, although in the anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im[13] it quotes a hasidic author as follows:

ואני אומר דראוי לעמוד בשעת טבילה. ויאמין לי שפעם אחת עמדתי בעת שטבלה אשה אחת וראיתי באותו מקום ודי עלי כאוות ולא כלום. ולאחר שהלכתי משם שרי עלי קדושה גדולה.

I have never heard of such a mikveh, where men would bathe on one side and women immerse on the other. In fact, I wouldn’t pay this text any mind, since I find it hard to believe that anyone who examines the citations from the work, which are supposedly notes on the Tur, will not conclude that it is a forgery designed to make the Hasidim look bad.[14] There are so many outrageous things said in the text that nothing else makes sense. Did any hasid, even the most extreme, ever say that one who prays properly need not fast on Yom Kippur ?[15]

כתב הטור: יוה”כ אסור באכילה ושתי’. וכתב המין: ומי שיוכל לכוין בתפלה כתיקונה מותר בכל, ואין אכילה רק שיהא עם רוחניות ולא עם גשמיות כידוע ליודעי חן.

It is difficult even to record the following shocking text,[16] but we are not in the business of censorship here, and as mentioned, I have no doubt that this is a forgery.

כתב הטור: דבעל קרי מותר האידנא בתפילה . . . וה”ה אף להוציא זרע מחמת גודל החימום הק”ש והתפילה כי זהו העיקר לכבוד השי”ת, כידוע לחכמים השלימים.

Speaking of authentic texts, however, R. Joseph Hayyim does deal with a case of voyeurism and prescribes a teshuvah for this. I don’t want to get any more explicit, so for those who read Hebrew here is the text from Od Yosef Hai: Halakhot, parashat Shofetim, no. 51[17].

I am aware of only two times that a woman (other than one’s wife) can be seen without her clothes. One is the sotah, when her top is removed.[18] R. Judah states that if her breasts are attractive, they are not exposed,[19] but his opinion is not accepted. The other time is that the kohen must examine both men and women for tzara’at, and in both cases they are to be naked.[20]

As for the current controversy about whether dayanim need to see a female convert immerse, no one has yet referred to the following responsum from Kitvei R. Weinberg, vol. 1, no. 10. When I published this book I decided to have this short responsum translated from German, although I wasn’t sure if it was worth the trouble since all R. Weinberg was doing was repeating the halakhah as it appears in the Shulhan Arukh. Recent attempts to alter the traditional method of womens’ conversion, by arguing that the dayanim should not see the actual tevilah, show that even a simple responsum like this one can have value. I am very happy that it was translated and included in the sefer, so that it can now be part of the public conversation. 

Regarding the sources that have been cited in support of changing the traditional practice, no one has yet referred to a responsum by R. Isaac Herzog in which in the specific case he discusses (and I don’t think it can be used le-khathilah for other cases) he allows that only women see the tevilah.[21]

Also worth noting, even though in my opinion it has no halakhic significance, is Masekhet Gerim 1:4 which states:

האיש מטביל את האיש והאשה מטבלת את האשה

R. Hayyim Kanievsky points out, in his commentary ad loc., that this implies that men did not see any part of the immersion (unlike the current practice).

משמע שהאנשים לא יראוה כשהיא טובלת . . . משמע שאין רואין טבילתה רק הנשים.

R. Aryeh Leib Grossnass, Lev Aryeh, vol. 2, no. 11, argues that the beit din does not actually have to see the immersion in order for the conversion to be valid. It is this responsum that R. Moses Feinstein is responding to in Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah vol. 2, no. 127.

S. also called my attention to this document from 1844 signed by Isaac Leeser and currently on auction at Sotheby’s (link). It records how the conversion of a girl was only witnessed by two women, not by the beit din.

4. Simcha Goldstein was kind enough to send me these pictures from a Passover Haggadah sent out to donors by Yeshiva Torah Vodaath. It hardly needs to be said that such pictures (check out how the women are dressed), not to mention the Zionist theme as a whole, would never appear today in anything sent out by this yeshiva. 

Regarding Yeshiva Torah Vodaath, in the book Mi-Pihem shel Rabbotenu (Bnei Brak, 2008), p. 49, there in an interview with R. Don Ungarischer who states that when R. Reuven Grozovsky came to the United States during World War II, Torah Vodaath was the only yeshiva in America. This is incorrect and I am not just referring to the existence of Yeshivat R. Yitzchak Elhanan or Beit ha-Midrash le-Torah in Chicago, as Yeshivat R. Chaim Berlin also existed during this period. 

5. The second volume of Haym Soloveitchik’s collected essays has just been published. This is a very important work, especially since nine of the essays have never before appeared in print. Among these newly published essays are those that put forth a new thesis about the origins of Ashkenazic religious culture. There is so much learning in this book, and it is written in such an engaging style, that anyone with an appreciation for the history of halakhah will be spellbound.

The essay “The ‘Third Yeshivah of Bavel’”, where Soloveitchik elaborates on his new thesis, is a particular favorite of mine. It could be that in the end the scholarly community will reject his position. Yet just to read how he develops his argument, and attempts to create an entirely new paradigm, is a treat. Here is one lengthy paragraph from the essay that I found quite significant (p. 161).

Shift back now to the mid-tenth century and the original characteristics of Ashkenaz. I have noted that the new settlers saw no difference between the aggadic sections of the Talmud and the halakhic ones and exegeted both in equal detail. We take this, too, for granted because we find a commentary on both sections on every printed page of the Talmud that we have seen since early youth. Think, however, what this entails lexically. The halakhic portions of the Talmud are strongly formulaic, as is any unpunctuated text. If one knows some thirty to forty idiomatic phrases in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, most halakhic passages will pose few linguistic problems. (Understanding their legal content is a different matter.) However, the aggadic narratives entail a wide-ranging and detailed knowledge of the Aramaic language—all the terms of different household utensils, farm equipment, agricultural practices, domestic animals, flora and fauna, to mention just a few areas of life that are reflected in the narratives of the aggadeta. We are talking about a vocabulary of some 10,000-12000 words, if not more. (Actually, much more, as one should count meanings rather than words or roots [shorashim]. Most words have multiple meanings, and commanding a language means precisely controlling the numerous meanings of its words, as well as its idioms.) Unless these settlers had a vast dictionary, alongside which the Sefer he-Arukh would seem a Berlitz phrase book, and unless this enormous dictionary and even the memory of it got lost in the Mainz academy within one generation, we must conclude that these immigrant founders of Ashkenazic culture were Aramaic speakers. Precisely because Aramaic was their native tongue, they could readily undertake what the scholars of Kairouan, Fez, and Lucena (all native Arabic speakers) could only attempt with trepidation, namely, to exegete the entire Talmud, leaving no phrase, halakhic or aggadic, unexplained.

6. The most recent issue of Milin Havivin has appeared. My article “Torah im Derekh Eretz as a Means of Last Resort” can be seen here.

I also published a letter from R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and part of another letter he wrote.

These are important letters as they show R. Weinberg’s strong belief that in the modern world rabbis need to have a secular education in order to be effective. Those who read Hebrew will see very clearly where R. Weinberg stood on this issue, and that for all his love and respect for the haredi roshei yeshiva, intellectually and spiritually he was not part of their world.

7 Finally, we come to what I have termed ArtScroll’s latest betrayal. These are harsh words, but I believe them to be entirely justified. It is one thing to censor R. Zevin, or to cut out passages from other recent works. But to do this with rishonim is a completely different matter. After my book appears, I will discuss a number of examples of censorship that for one reason or another I did not include in the book, as well as examples that I only became aware of after the book was in press. However, this is such an important example that I did not want to wait. Its importance is such that I have no doubt that according to halakhah, anyone who demands a refund from ArtScroll is entitled to his money back, as what I will show you is nothing less than a betrayal not only of the reader, who paid good money to get what he thought was a complete mikraot gedolot chumash, but also of one of the greatest rishonim, R. Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam).

Soon after Rosh ha-Shanah 2014, ArtScroll released the first volume of its mikraot gedolot chumash. It is a beautifully typeset edition, completely punctuated. The response was so positive that within a month the volume was reprinted, and it would not be a surprise if the ArtScroll mikraot gedolot became the new standard.

One of the new elements of this edition is that Rashbam to Genesis chapter 1 is included, which is not the case with the old mikraot gedolot chumashim. (It is found in the Mossad ha-Rav Kook Torat Hayyim mikraot gedolot). As you can see on this page, the Rashbam’s commentary is taken from the Rosin edition (which is where the commentary to Gen. ch. 1 first appeared).

In his commentary to chapter 1 Rashbam advances the notion that according to the peshat of the Torah, the day does not start in the evening, but in the morning. This is only one of many examples where Rashbam’s commentary explains biblical verses in accordance with the peshat, and in opposition to the rabbinic understanding. He even states that according to the peshat the commandment of tefillin in Exodus 13:9 is not to be understood literally.[22] Of course, Rashbam put on tefillin, but in this case he was only explaining what he thought the peshat was. Similarly, he began Shabbat in the evening, not in the morning, but this did not stop him from offering a peshat that differed from the halakhah.

For some reason, ArtScroll finds this difficult to take, and therefore decided to delete all of Rashbam’s “problematic” comments regarding the beginning and end of the day. I repeat, since I know this will be hard for people to believe: ArtScroll omitted portions of Rashbam’s commentary from its mikraot gedolot.

Here is Rashbam’s commentary on Gen. 1:4 and 1:5 in the Rosin edition.

Now look at ArtScroll’s version of Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:4 and 1:5. Entire sections of his commentary to each of the verses have been omitted!

Here is Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:8 in the Rosin edition.

Here is how the commentary to Gen. 1:8 appears in ArtScroll.

Again you can see that a section of the commentary has been deleted.

Here is Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:31 in the Rosin edition.

ArtScroll completely omits this short comment.

It is not only in Genesis chapter 1 that Rashbam’s that has been tampered with. I only skimmed a few other places and I found the following problem with Gen. 49:16. The first words in ArtScroll’s version of Rashbam commentary are המפרש על שמשון.

Yet look at the Rosin edition where the first word is המפרשו.

Small emendations such as this are obviously not acceptable, but they are in an entirely different category than the censorship in Genesis chapter 1.

I also found problems with ArtScroll’s punctuation of Rashbam. For example, in his commentary to Gen. 37:2, which is one of his most famous passages, Rashbam states that he heard from his grandfather (Rashi) that if he had time he would write new commentaries לפי הפשטות המתחדשים בכל יום. The word הפשטות is to be vocalized as ha-peshatot, i.e., the plural of peshat. ArtScroll has the mistaken vocalization ha-pashtut. Later in this verse Rashbam writes (in the Rosin version) לפי דרך ארץ קורא אחיו. ArtScroll has קרא, changing the verb from participle to perfect. I have not gone through even one chapter of the book, comparing Rosin’s edition to ArtScroll (not to mention other commentaries). If I were to do so, I am sure many more such examples would be revealed.

This post does not need any long conclusion, as the evidence speaks for itself. I would only add that when modern publishers feel that they can start deleting commentaries of rishonim, then we have reached a new low. Will students of Torah, those who treasure the words of Rashbam, tolerate this betrayal? I think (hope) not, which is why it is imperative that in the next printing ArtScroll reinsert the words of Rashbam.

Was Professor Saul Lieberman “Orthodox” or “Conservative”? [1]

Finally, in 2002, Israel Ta-Shema recounted an amazing story that took place in 1981, in which he asked Professor Lieberman a riddle about the Yerushalmi. Ta-Shema had heard the riddle from Rabbi Shlomo Goren in 1961 and since then had been unable to find the answer. Professor Lieberman spent about three minutes in silence, during which he opened one volume of the Yerushalmi and closed it. Finally he returned to the bookshelf, pulled out Yerushalmi Sotah 2:1, and showed Ta-Shema the correct answer. Lieberman later explained to Ta-Shema that “in my youth, I would have answered immediately that the answer is not in the Yerushalmi at all. But now that I am old, I do not rely on my memory, which is already weakened; and therefore I decided to flip through all the pages of the Yerushalmi in my mind, in order to make certain that it is not found in any place. And when I arrived at chapter 2 of Sotah, I found the place and showed you.” Ta-Shema concluded the story: “I had the merit over the course of the years to be a frequent visitor to the houses of quite a few of the greatest talmidei hakhamim [scholars] of the generation and among the beki’im [those who possess encyclopedic knowledge] in their generation … but [bekiut] of such magnitude I have never seen, not before and not after, and the memory of that Shabbat has not departed from me until today.”[3]

In addition to his amazing memory and breadth of knowledge, Lieberman was one of the most prolific Talmud scholars of all times. He published 225 books and articles, for a total of approximately 11,500 pages—devoted, for the most part, to the explication of rabbinic texts.[4] Finally, he published books and articles related to almost every area of Jewish studies, including Bible, Dead Sea Scrolls, Mishnah, Tosefta, Yerushalmi, Bavli, ancient piyyut, Hellenism, Greek, Latin, and medieval rabbinic literature.[5] Therefore, it is not surprising that over eighty books and articles have been devoted to Lieberman and his œuvre between 1948 and 2008.[6] Indeed, three entire books have been published about Lieberman since 2002.[7]

This essay will respond to the most recent monograph, Marc Shapiro’s Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox.[8] Professor Shapiro has shown in his writings that he is adept at archival research.[9] This monograph is no exception; it quotes and/or publishes at least twenty-five letters related to Lieberman. Indeed, it should be entitled “What the Orthodox Thought of Saul Lieberman,” since it quotes the opinions of Rabbis Yaakov Halevi Herzog, Yitzhak Nissim, Shlomo Goren, Isser Yehuda Unterman, Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook, Meir Ben-Zion Hai Uziel, Ḥayim Ozer Grodzinsky, Isaiah Karelitz, Pinchas Hirshprung, Meshulam Rathe, Mordechai Gifter, Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, Yehudah Leib Maimon, Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky, David Zvi Hillman, Yaakov Kamenetski, Aaron Kotler, Menahem Mendel Kasher, Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Menahem Mendel Shneerson, Ze’ev Wolf Leiter, Samuel Belkin, Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, and She’ar Yashuv Cohen. We are in debt to Marc Shapiro for this very useful anthology based on archival sources.

However, it would appear that Shapiro has missed the mark regarding three critical points: (1) the character of the Jewish Theological Seminary from 1940 and following, (2) Lieberman’s motives for accepting a position at JTS and remaining there, and (3) whether Lieberman consider himself “Orthodox” or “Conservative.” This essay will address these three critical issues in Lieberman’s biography.

The Character of the Jewish Theological Seminary from 1940 and Following

Shapiro’s basic assumption is that Lieberman was “Orthodox” and JTS was “Conservative.” Thus, he writes: “It can be imagined what a shock it was for the Orthodox when in 1940 the internationally renowned Jerusalem illui Saul Lieberman accepted an invitation to join the Seminary faculty.”[10] This assumption about JTS, which repeats itself throughout the monograph, is basically incorrect, for the following nine reasons:

1.   During most of the years that Lieberman taught at JTS (1940–1983), almost all of the Talmud faculty at JTS were “Orthodox” or strictly observant Jews, including Rabbis Alexander Marx, Louis Ginzberg, Louis Finkelstein, Moses Hyamson, Abraham Sofer, Moshe Zucker, H. Z. Dimitrovsky, A. S. Rosenthal, Yehezkel Kutscher, Mordechai Margaliot, Jose Faur, David Weiss Halivni, Dov Zlotnick, Israel Francus, and Shamma Friedman.

2.   During the 1940s and 1950s, most of the students at JTS were observant Jews; a large percentage of them came from Orthodox homes and/or were graduates of Yeshiva College. This point is stressed by Schochet and Spiro in their recent biography of Lieberman, and more importantly, it is stressed by Shapiro himself: Between 1946 and 1957, 60% of JTS rabbinical students came from Orthodox homes and 30% were graduates of Yeshiva College.[11] Similarly, both Rabbi Isaac Klein and my father, Rabbi Noah Golinkin z”l, began their studies at Yeshiva University in the 1930s and then transferred to JTS. Rabbi Klein said that he did so in order to learn the critical methodologies of Professor Louis Ginzberg. Indeed, he received s’mikhah yoreh yoreh yadin yadin from Ginzberg. He certainly was not looking for a more lax halakhic approach.[12]

3.   From 1940 to the late 1950s, the division between Orthodox and Conservative Judaism was not at all clear. Indeed, this was pointed out by Shapiro himself as well as by other scholars, such as Jonathan Sarna.[13]

4.   Beginning in the 1950s, the mehitzah become the main dividing line between Orthodox and Conservative Judaism,[14] but the Seminary synagogue maintained separate seating for men and women from the days of Solomon Schechter until Professor Lieberman passed away in 1983.[15]

5.   During all of the years that Lieberman taught at JTS, the Seminary synagogue did not use any of the siddurim produced by the Rabbinical Assembly and edited by Rabbis Silverman, Hadas, or Harlow. It used, instead, a rather obscure Orthodox prayer book edited by Rabbi A. Th. Philips. Indeed, I was informed by someone who prayed in the Seminary synagogue with Professor Lieberman for nine years that at one point, two of the students told Professor Lieberman that the Philips siddurim were falling apart. They, of course, wanted to replace Philips with a more modern siddur. Professor Lieberman said that he would take care of the problem. He then proceeded to purchase two boxes of brand new Philips siddurim! [16]

6.   From 1940 until 1959, Higher Criticism of the Bible was not taught at JTS.[17] This opposition began way back in the days of Sabato Morais, who headed JTS from 1887 until 1897.[18] Solomon Schechter, who served as president of JTS from 1902 until 1915, called Higher Criticism “Higher Anti-Semitism.”[19] Cyrus Adler, who was president of JTS from 1915 until 1940, was also opposed to Biblical Criticism; in his day, Bible was taught at JTS with medieval Bible commentators.[20] Finally, Louis Finkelstein, who headed JTS from 1940 until 1972, was also opposed to Higher Criticism.[21] In 1944, he asked Lieberman to “gently” tell H. L. Ginsberg to write his article on biblical history in a proposed volume entitled Judaism and the Jews “from an extremely conservative point of view,” so as to “avoid various pitfalls of higher criticism.”[22]

7.   Furthermore, in the 1940s when Lieberman started teaching at JTS, the rabbinical students dressed just like rabbinical students at Yeshiva University.[23]

8.   More importantly, Louis Finkelstein, who together with Louis Ginzberg invited Lieberman to teach at JTS in 1940, saw JTS—as had Solomon Schechter and Cyrus Adler before him[24] —as an institution for k’lal yisrael, the collective Jewish people, and not just of the Conservative Movement. Finkelstein stated in 1941: “If someone calls us traditional, orthodox or conservative, it is he who makes a division in Judaism, not us … I think that the members of the faculty generally prefer the term ‘traditional Judaism’….”[25] After quoting this passage, Schochet and Spiro add: “Finkelstein preferred viewing JTS as an umbrella institution for all traditional Jews, which he hoped would attract to it Orthodox Jews, rather than one reflecting a specific denominational ideology. Finkelstein made no secret of the fact that he hoped that Orthodoxy would eventually find a home at the Seminary. He would therefore counsel his associates, ‘Let’s not be too Conservative; let’s not prevent [Orthodox Jews] from coming.’”[26]

Indeed, Shapiro himself stresses[27] that when Haim Zalman Dimitrovsky came to study with Lieberman at JTS in 1951, he did not even know that JTS had a connection with the Conservative Movement!

9.   Finally, Shapiro himself[28] quotes a letter written by Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg in 1948, when he was informed by someone supposedly “in the know” that Finkelstein was interested in him joining the faculty, alongside Ginzberg and Lieberman. Weinberg wrote to his friend Samuel Atlas (in Hebrew): “How could it be possible that they are asking me, when they have two great teachers like L. Ginzberg and Sh. Lieberman?” Weinberg did not say that he could not teach at JTS because it was Conservative or heretical; he simply said that they did not need him, because they already had Ginzberg and Lieberman.

Thus, from 1940 when Lieberman began to teach at JTS, until 1959—and, to a large extent, until 1972, when Louis Finkelstein retired—it was difficult to call JTS a Conservative institution. The faculty and students were mostly Orthodox or traditional; the lines between the movements were not clearly drawn; the Seminary synagogue maintained separate seating and used an Orthodox prayerbook; Higher Criticism was not taught; and the students at JTS even dressed like the students at YU. Louis Finkelstein viewed JTS as an institution for k’lal yisrael and even Rabbi Weinberg had no ideological objections to teaching at JTS.

Thus, there is no basis for Shapiro’s surprise that an “Orthodox” Jew like Lieberman accepted a position teaching at a “Conservative” institution.

Lieberman’s Motives for Leaving Israel, Accepting a Position at JTS, and Remaining There Until the End of His Life

Shapiro says[29] that Lieberman’s main motives were economic security, which he did not have in Jerusalem, and a desire to draw the students at JTS nearer to Torah and Judaism. These points are undoubtedly true, but I believe that there are at least six reasons why Lieberman left Israel, came to JTS, and stayed there for forty-three years:

1.   Saul Lieberman could not earn a living in Jerusalem. This is what Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan, Lieberman’s father-in-law, told Rabbi Aaron Pechenik and others,[30] and this was the reason that Lieberman later gave Pechenik for remaining there.[31] Indeed, while in Israel (1927–1940), Lieberman worked as a clerk at the Tel-Aviv Chamber of Commerce, as a teacher in Herzlia, as a part-time lecturer at the Mizrahi Teachers Institute.[32] as a secretary at Yeshivat Shaar Hashamayim, as a Talmud teacher at Hebrew University (from 1932–1937, a position from which he was fired and only received severance pay a year later),[33] and as Dean of the Harry Fischel Institute for Talmudic Research.[34]

2.   Shapiro also says that Lieberman wanted to draw the students at JTS closer to Torah and Judaism,[35] as indicated by his brother Meir, by Pnina Herzog, and in a letter to Gershom Scholem from 1941. Furthermore, Lieberman himself said this in a Hebrew letter to Hapardes in 1945, which Shapiro published in 2003. There he says: “Young Jewish men are innocent (t’mimim) and there is nothing that will influence them more than the light of Torah planted by a teacher who believes in the holiness of the Torah.”36] 

3.   At Hebrew University, Lieberman’s Talmud course in the 1930s shrank from six to two students, he was fired, and Hebrew University refused to award him a Ph.D. for Talmuda Shel Kisrin or Tosefet Rishonim.[37] The Harry Fischel Institute, which Lieberman headed for five years, was not an academic institution. Indeed, Lieberman himself spelled out in 1937 the requirements for Talmud scholarship; the students at Harry Fischel did not possess many of those qualifications.[38] In other words, at Hebrew University he had scholars to talk to but no job, while at Harry Fischel he had a job but no one to talk to. Thus, in 1940, JTS was the only serious academic center of Jewish studies in the world, as Lieberman himself wrote to Louis Ginzberg in Hebrew on April 30, 1940: “And I also hope that I could bring benefit to your Bet Midrash, which is now the only scientific institution [i.e., of Jewish studies] in our world.”[39]

4.   In 1940, and for most of the years that Lieberman taught there, JTS had the best Jewish library in the world, with a large collection of manuscripts and Genizah fragments.[40] Schochet and Spiro relate that Seminary librarian, Nahum Sarna, advised Menahem Schmelzer, his successor, to open the Rare Book Room at any time so that Lieberman could consult the thirteenth-century manuscript of the Mishneh Torah, which was placed on a table there especially for his use.[41] 

5.   Lieberman had a very warm relationship with Louis Ginzberg of JTS.[42] They met in 1929 when Ginzberg served as visiting lecturer at Hebrew University and Ginzberg asked Lieberman to prepare for publication Ginzberg’s lecture, “The Significance of Halakhah for Jewish History.” They then corresponded from 1930 to 1940. Louis Finkelstein explicitly praised Ginzberg for his indefatigable efforts to persuade Lieberman to come to JTS. This special relationship is evident from a Hebrew letter from Lieberman to Ginzberg from 1940.[43]

6.   Finally, Lieberman had an incredibly close relationship with Louis Finkelstein, who gave Lieberman whatever he needed and treated him like a king. Their relationship has been dealt with at length by Schochet and Spiro.[44] A few examples will suffice: Rabbi Bernard Mandelbaum, long-time Vice President of JTS, said: “Finkelstein gave Lieberman whatever he needed.”[45] Lieberman said as much in his Hebrew introduction to Hilkhot Hayerushalmi in 1947: “And last but not least is my friend, Rabbi E. A. Finkelstein, the President of our Bet Midrash, who provides me with special conditions for Talmud Torah and work with all possible convenience.”[46]

But their relationship went way beyond one of providing scholarly needs. Finkelstein viewed Lieberman as the most important Talmud scholar in the world and he told him so, both privately and publicly, on a regular basis. He referred to Lieberman’s arrival in the United States as “a historic one in the development of American Judaism … Even if the Seminary across the years had done nothing else than lay the foundation for such a work [=Tosefta Kifshutah on Zera’im], the institution would have justified itself.”[47] Finkelstein further stated that “Professor Lieberman does not exist for the Seminary; the Seminary exists for Professor Lieberman.” Faculty member Professor Judah Goldin once said, “Finkelstein believed in God and worshipped Lieberman.”[48] 

On December 1, 1959, Finkelstein informed Lieberman that he would become Rector of JTS, with all the powers and no administrative responsibilities: “It seems obvious to me that with your increasing preoccupation with the Tosefta Kifshutah (which …will turn out to be probably the most significant single accomplishment of the Seminary) …”[49] In a letter to Edward B. Lawson, American Ambassador to Israel, in 1955, Finkelstein introduced Lieberman as “Professor of Talmud in the Seminary and one of the most learned men in the world.”[50] Finally, when Finkelstein got Lieberman involved in the agunah dilemma in 1953, he introduced the Lieberman ketubah at the Rabbinical Assembly Convention in hyperbolic terms and compared it to the accomplishments of the tannaim.[51]

Thus, it appears that Lieberman came to JTS and stayed there for six reasons: because he could not earn a living in Jerusalem; in order to draw the students closer to Torah and Judaism; because JTS was the only scientific institution of Jewish studies in the world; because JTS had the best Jewish studies library in the world, to which he had open access at all times; because of his warm relationship with Louis Ginzberg between 1929 and 1953; and because of his unique relationship with Louis Finkelstein from the 1930s until 1983.

Did Lieberman Consider Himself “Orthodox” or “Conservative”?

Shapiro claims that Lieberman “regarded himself as an Orthodox Jew”[52] and he faults me[53] for categorizing Lieberman as a Conservative rabbi,[54] but he himself writes: 

In 1959, Lieberman became rector of the Seminary, and one of his responsibilities was “guarding the general religious policy of the institution.” Thus, there is certainly justice in the assertion that whatever his personal religious commitments, Lieberman had become part and parcel of the Conservative Movement and was assisting it at the time that the Orthodox were attempting to expose what they regarded as the Conservatives’ distortion of halakhah.[55]

Shapiro’s confusion is well-justified; I myself have debated whether Lieberman considered himself Orthodox or Conservative.[56]

On the one hand, he taught at the only Conservative rabbinical seminary from 1940 until 1983, and he served as its rector from 1959 until 1983. When he proposed his takkanah regarding the ketubah to the Conservative Rabbinical Assembly in 1953, he attacked “the Orthodox rabbis”:

I saw that some of you were accused of being frightened by the Orthodox rabbis. I want to tell you that I am not frightened by them at all. I want, therefore, to give you a point of information. In truth, they were frightened, and I want you to know why they were frightened. They weren’t afraid that the Bet Din would issue some takkanot. No, not at all. They were afraid that the Bet Din will issue takkanot in accordance with the law.

As a matter of fact, one of the very important members of the Orthodox rabbis said so in many words: If this Bet Din of the Rabbinical Assembly will issue atakkanah, that will be takkanato kalkalato. It will be a great misfortune because they will get authority and that is the reason why they oppose this. Many of them think that [if] that Bet Din will begin to move in this line, the movement can become strong and it will affect them.[57] 

When, during the negotiations about a Joint Bet Din, the Orthodox insisted that the RA sanction rabbis who perform a wedding even without aget, “Lieberman’s spontaneous response was that the Conservative Jews do not like inquisitions …”[58] He also wrote a letter that enabled Rabbi Theodore Friedman, a leading Conservative rabbi, to receive permission to perform weddings in Jerusalem, and another letter to Chief Rabbi Unterman in 1964, which defended the gittin performed by Rabbi Israel Silverman and other Conservative rabbis.[59]

On the other hand, Schochet and Spiro cite an undated interview in the Jerusalem Post in which “Lieberman explicitly stated that he himself was not a Conservative Jew; however, he praised Conservative Jews for their sincerity and their success in appealing to young people.”[60] Furthermore, in 1974, the Israeli daily Maariv published an article claiming that Golda Meir had asked Lieberman to influence the Conservative Movement to accept a compromise on the “Who Is a Jew” issue. Lieberman was described there as “one of the leaders of the Conservative Movement and as the Vice-President of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York.” Lieberman wrote an indignant letter to the editor in Hebrew in which he denied the whole story and in which he said:

I am not one of the heads of the Conservative Movement and I am not, nor have I ever been, the Vice President of the [Jewish] Theological Seminary. I teach Torah to the Jewish people and I don’t understand much about politics.[61]

Finally, when a group of Seminary professors, graduates, and students held a “Conference on Halakhic Process” in 1979 in order to urge JTS not to ordain women, Lieberman wrote a letter to the Conference praising them for deciding to discuss “how to guard the last spark of the halakhah, that it should not be extinguished.”[62]

There are three possible ways to interpret this contradictory data. The first approach is followed by Hillel Goldberg, who, in a nasty review of Schochet and Spiro’s biography, would have us believe that Lieberman was Orthodox and taught and stayed at JTS simply because it was a cushy job which allowed him to do his research.[63] This approach contradicts everything we know about Lieberman’s piety and integrity, and barely merits a response. The second approach is put forth by Marc Shapiro, who maintains throughout his monograph that Lieberman was “Orthodox.” When he defended Conservative rabbis during the attempts to set up a joint Bet Din, “Lieberman was only reflecting on the mindset of the Conservative rabbinate, not describing his own feelings.”[64]

There is, however, a third way to interpret the data. I agree with Shapiro that Lieberman did not consider himself “Conservative.” However, neither did he consider himself “Orthodox.” An “Orthodox” Jew would not have spoken about Orthodox rabbis in the third person and in such a critical tone as Lieberman used in the 1950s. Furthermore, neither Shapiro nor Schochet and Spiro adduce even one text in which Lieberman himself calls himself “Orthodox.” Shapiro[65] simply refers to Schochet and Spiro.[66] but the latter offer no such proof. They quote Rabbi Berel Wein, who said that Lieberman “was personally an observant Jew.” They quote Rabbi Emanuel Rackman who said that Lieberman was “a Jew whose Orthodoxy was beyond question.” They themselves say: “These citations from prominent Orthodox rabbis reflect the common perception that Saul Lieberman was indeed ‘Orthodox’ in his religious practices” (emphasis added). They then cite numerous instances of “his firm adherence to halakhic practice and accepted custom.” They later quote someone who said that Lieberman “stressed that he wanted to be known as ‘Orthodox’ (note 266), but Lieberman himself never wrote such a thing.”

Furthermore, Shapiro mistranslates a key passage in Lieberman’s important Hebrew letter to Hapardes from 1945, which Shapiro himself published in 2003. Shapiro writes:

In his letter, Lieberman states that at the Seminary he is permitted to teach what he wishes. He also mentions that if another two or three Orthodox teachers joined the faculty (italics added), they could turn it into a wonderful place.[67]

However, that is not what Lieberman wrote. He wrote:

זהו מוסד חשוב שלו היו נכנסים לשם עוד שנים שלשה מורים משלומי אמוני ישראל היו מהפכים אותו לבית ספר למופת

This is an important institution. If two or three teachers “who seek the welfare of the faithful in Israel” [cf. II Samuel 20:19] would enter it, they would turn it into an exemplary school.[68]

Similarly, in his 1964 letter to Rabbi Unterman defending the gittin of Rabbi Israel Silverman.[69] he states that “Rabbi Silverman, when he was my student, observed Torah and mitzvot as is fitting.”

היה שומר תורה ומצוות כראוי וכיאות

He goes on to say

that it is essential to arrange matters related to gittin in America, and if there is good will on all sides, it is possible to arrive at a mutual agreement. Otherwise, I am afraid that chaos will take over this profession too and we will come to a similar situation to giving a hekhsher to a treif kitchen in an Israeli boat. And behold this hekhsher was not given by the Conservatives (who rejected the offer with disgust), but by an irresponsible group which calls itself Orthodox, and this group also performs gittin!

The picture that emerges from Lieberman’s letter to Hapardes in 1945, from his attempt to set up a joint Bet Din in 1953, and from his letter about gittin in 1964, is that Lieberman meant exactly what he said in his letter to Maariv in 1974: “I teach Torah to the Jewish people and I don’t care much about politics—that is: I am neither ‘Orthodox’ nor ‘Conservative.’ There are “Conservative” rabbis who are halakhic and there are ‘Orthodox’ rabbis who are not. I care that the teachers at JTS should be sh’lomei emunei yisrael and that the students and graduates should beshomrei torah u-mitzvot ka-rauy v’khayaut.” Lieberman did not care about labels but rather about substance, and in this he was a true disciple of Rabbi Judah the Prince who said: Al tistakkeil ba-kankan, ella b’mah she-yeish bo—do not look at the vessel, but rather at its substance.[70] 

Notes

[1] This article is based on a lecture given in Hebrew in Jerusalem on Professor Lieberman’s 30th Yahrzeit, 9 Nisan 5773 (2013). It originally appeared in Conservative Judaism 65 (Summer 2014), pp. 13-29, published here with the permission of The Rabbinical Assembly.
[2] The first quotation is from Elijah J. Schochet and Solomon Spiro, Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 2005), p. 303 (and cf. pp. 53, 139). The other quotations are from David Golinkin, “The Influence of Seminary Professors on Halakhah in the Conservative Movement, 1902–1968,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed., Tradition Renewed: A History of the Jewish Theological Seminary, vol. 2 (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1997), p. 473, n. 36. For Lieberman’s attack on Neusner’s translation of the Yerushalmi, see Journal of the American Oriental Society 104:2 (April–June 1984), pp. 315–319. For Neusner’s counterattacks against Lieberman, see History and Theory 27:3 (1988), pp. 241–260 = Jacob Neusner, Wrong Ways and Right Ways in the Study of Formative Judaism (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), pp. 3–27; and idem, Why There Never Was a Talmud of Caesarea: Saul Lieberman’s Mistakes (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994).
[3] Ta-Shema in Meir Lubetski, ed., Saul Lieberman (1898–1983): Talmudic Scholar and Classicist (Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2002), pp. 88-90 = Israel Ta-Shema, Knesset Mehkarim, vol. 4 (Jerusalem: 2010), pp. 337–339 (Hebrew). See Shamma Friedman in Lubetski, pp. 91–95, for an explanation of the riddle.
[4] A. S. Rosenthal wrote in Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 31 (1963), Hebrew section, p. 1, that Lieberman wrote 10,000 pages. A careful count of Tuvia Preschel’s 1993 bibliography of Lieberman in Shamma Friedman, ed., Sefer Hazikaron L’rabbi Shaul Lieberman (New York and Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1993), pp. 1–28, adds up to approximately 11,500 pages.
[5] See Preschel’s bibliography (above, n. 4) as well as the essays in the Lubetski volume.
[6] See Golinkin, pp. 472–473, n. 35, for a listing of thirty items and Elinor Grinet, “A Bibliography About Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work,” in Lubetski, pp. 91–96, for seventy-seven items (some of them overlap). More recent works include: Aviad Hacohen, Madda’ei Ha-yahadut 42 (5763–64), pp. 289–301; a letter from Lieberman to the editor of Hapardes from 1945, published by Marc Shapiro in Kitvei Ha-Gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2 (Scranton: University of Scranton Press, 2003), pp. 449–450; review of new edition of Hayerushalmi Kif-shuto edited by Menahem Katz (New York and Jerusalem, 2008), by Yehoshua Schwartz in Makor Rishon Hatzofeh,April 11, 2008, pp. 10, 13; Naomi G. Cohen, “In Memoriam: Chana Safrai (1946–2008), Friend and Colleague,” in Nashim 15 (Spring 5768/2008), pp. 198, 201. For reactions to Schochet and Spiro’s book, see: Hillel Goldberg, Tradition 40:3 (Fall 2007), pp. 69–75; Aaron Rakefet, Tradition 40:4 (Winter 2007), pp. 68–74; and Bernard Septimus and David Horwitz, Tradition 41:1 (Spring 2008), pp. 114–115.
[7] The books are Lubetski (n. 3 above), Schochet and Spiro (n. 1 above), and Shapiro (n. 8 below).
[8] Marc B. Shapiro, Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox (Scranton: University of Scranton Press, 2006).
[9] See, for example, his book Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, 1884–1966 (London and Portland: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1999); Kitvei Ha-gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, 2 vols (Scranton: University of Scranton Press 1998 and 2003); and “Scholars and Friends: Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and Professor Samuel Atlas,” in The Torah Umadda Journal 7 (1997), pp. 105–121.
[10] Shapiro, p. 16.
[11] Schochet and Spiro, p. 22, and Shapiro, p. 16. Both base themselves on Jeffrey S. Gurock, “Yeshiva Students at the Jewish Theological Seminary,” in Wertheimer (n. 2 above), vol. 1, p. 473.
[12] Regarding Rabbi Isaac Klein, see what I wrote in my introduction to his Responsa and Halakhic Studies, second revised and expanded edition (Jerusalem: Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, 2005), p. xii.
[13] Shapiro, pp. 14–15; Jonathan Sarna, American Judaism: A History (New Haven and London:Yale University Press, 2004), pp. 237ff. Shapiro, pp.14–15.
[14] See my book The Status of Women in Jewish Law: Responsa (Jerusalem: Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, 2012), pp. 14–15, and n. 27; p. 31, n.3; pp. 308–340.
[15] See JTS Semi-Centennial Volume (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1939), p. 59; Jonathan Sarna, “The Debate Over Mixed Seating in the American Synagogue,” in Jack Wertheimer, ed. The American Synagogue: A Sanctuary Transformed (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), pp. 379–380; David Golinkin, ed., The Responsa of Prof. Louis Ginzberg (New York and Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1996), pp. 85–100; Wertheimer, vol. 1, p. 395, Harvey E. Goldberg, “Becoming History: Perspectives on the Seminary Faculty at Mid-Century”, Schochet and Spiro, p. 22.
[16] Personal communication from Dr. Baruch Schwartz, April 13, 2008. The siddur was entitled Daily Prayers with a Revised English Translation (New York: Hebrew Publishing Co., 1914), and reprints.
[17] David Ellenson and Lee Bycel, “A Seminary of Sacred Learning: The JTS Rabbinical Curriculum in Historical Perspective,” Wertheimer, vol. 2, p. 559.
[18] Ibid., pp. 536, 656.
[19] Solomon Schechter, Seminary Addresses and Other Papers (New York: The Burning Bush Press, 1959), pp. 35–39 and cf. pp. 1–7.
[20] David Ellenson and Lee Bycel, “A Seminary of Sacred Learning: The JTS Rabbinical Curriculum in Historical Perspective,” Wertheimer, vol. 2, p. 546.
[21] JTS Semi-Centennial Volume, p. 25.
[22] Schochet and Spiro, p. 29.
[23] Compare the pictures in Jeffrey Gurock, The Men and Women of Yeshiva (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), after p. 120; to the pictures in Baila R. Shargel, “The Texture of Seminary Life During the Finkelstein Era,” Wertheimer, vol. 1, pp. 527, 535.
[24] Regarding Schechter, see Mel Scult, “Schechter’s Seminary,” in Wertheimer, vol. 1, pp. 58–59; Michael Panitz in Robert Fierstien and Jonathan Waxman, eds., Solomon Schechter in America: A Centennial Tribute (New York: The Joint Convention Committee, 2002), p. 14; and Solomon Schechter, Seminary Addresses and Other Papers, pp. 48–49. Regarding Adler, see Schochet and Spiro, p. 17, which is based on Mel Scult (in Wertheimer, vol. 1), pp. 85–88.
[25] Schochet and Spiro, pp. 21–22.
[26] Ibid., p. 22. Regarding Finkelstein’s desire for JTS to serve all denominations, see Michael B. Greenbaum, “The Finkelstein Era,” in Wertheimer, vol. 1, pp. 163ff.; Jack Wertheimer, “JTS and the Conservative Movement,” in Wertheimer, vol. 2, pp. 419–420; and Michael B. Greenbaum, Louis Finkelstein and the Conservative Movement: Conflict and Growth (Binghamton: Global Publications, 2001), pp. 48, 60–67. Ibid., p.22.
[27] Shapiro, p. 48.
[28] Ibid., p. 9, n. 30.
[29] Shapiro, pp. 17–18.
[30] Ibid., p. 17.
[31] Ibid.
[32] See Saul Lieberman, Mehkarim B’torat Eretz Yisrael, ed. David Rosenthal (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1991), pp. 601–602, for a beautiful vignette from that period of time.
[33] Schochet and Spiro, pp. 8–10.
[34] Ibid., pp. 10–11.
[35] Shapiro, p. 18.
[36] Shapiro, Kitvei Ha-gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2 (Scranton: University of Scranton Press, 2003), p. 449.
[37] Schochet and Spiro, pp. 9–10.
[38] Ibid., pp. 10–11; and cf. Lieberman’s English introduction to Harry Fischel Institute Publications, Section III, Rishonim, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: Harry Fischel Institute Press, 1937), pp. vi-viii, where he spells out the qualities necessary to do scientific talmudic research. My thanks to Professor Shamma Friedman, who called my attention to this passage a number of years ago. Cf. Preschel (n. 4 above), who lists this article in item 36 even though the Hebrew and English introductions to that volume are totally different. Ibid., pp.10–11.
[39] Shapiro, Hebrew side, p. 17, also quoted in the English side, n. 64.
[40] Regarding the Seminary library, see Alexander Marx in The JTS Semi-Centennial Volume, pp. 87–120; Menahem Schmelzer, ed., Alexander Marx, Bibliographical Studies and Notes, (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary and Ktav, 1977); Herman Dicker, Of Learning and Libraries: The Seminary Library at One Hundred (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1988); and Menahem Schmelzer, “Building a Great Judaica Library—At What Price?” in Wertheimer, vol. 1, pp. 678–715.
[41] Schochet and Spiro, p. 16.
[42] Ibid., pp. 9, 18–20.
[43] Shapiro, Hebrew section, pp. 17–18.
[44] Schochet and Spiro, pp. 23–39.
[45] Ibid., p. 16.
[46] Saul Lieberman, Hilkhot Hayerushalmi L’harambam (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1947), p. 3
[47] Schochet and Spiro, p. 24.
[48] Both quotations are from Schochet and Spiro, p. 26.
[49] Ibid., p. 37.
[50] Ibid., p. 40.
[51] David Golinkin, ed., Proceedings of the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards of the Conservative Movement 1927–1970 (New York and Jerusalem: The Rabbinical Assembly and the Institute of Applied Halakhah [of the Schechter Institute], 1997), vol. 2, pp. 825–829.
[52] Shapiro, p. 26.
[53] Ibid., p.20, n. 72
[54] Golinkin, Proceedings, vol. 1, p. v.
[55] Ibid., p. 24.
[56] Golinkin, “Influence,” pp. 451–452. Golinkin, “Influence,”pp.451–452.
[57] Shapiro, pp. 26–27 = Proceedings of the Rabbinical Assembly 17 (1953), pp. 75–76 = Golinkin, Proceedings, vol. 2, pp. 810–811.
[58] Rabbi Wolfe Kelman, unpublished letter to Sheldon Engelmayer, May 14, 1987. I received a copy from Professor Jack Wertheimer and I gave a copy to Marc Shapiro, who quotes from the letter in his monograph, p. 20.
[59] Golinkin, “Influence,” p. 452, n. 55. Shapiro published the second letter on the Hebrew side of his book, pp. 33–34.
[60] Schochet and Spiro, p. 99, end of n. 163.
[61] I quoted this letter in Golinkin, “Influence,” p. 452. Shapiro published the entire letter in Shapiro, Hebrew side, pp. 35–36 and discusses it on the English side, p. 20, n. 72.
[62] Shapiro, Hebrew side, p. 40.
[63] See above, n. 5.
[64] Shapiro, p. 20, n. 72.
[65] Ibid.
[66] Schochet and Spiro, pp. 66 ff., 99 n. 163.
[67] Shapiro, p. 22.
[68] Shapiro, Kitvei Ha-gaon Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2 (Scranton: University of Scranton Press, 2003), pp. 449.
[69] Shapiro, Hebrew section, pp. 33-34
[70] Pirkei Avot 4:20.