Comments on This and That, part 1

Comments on This and That, part 1
by Marc B. Shapiro

1. In this post I referred to R. Hayyim Hirschensohn’s Nimukei Rashi, and stated that I thought it was one of his best works. This led to some correspondence with readers regarding the commentary. I have no doubt that I could devote ten posts to Hirschensohn, but then what would happen to everything else I want to discuss? But there are people who want me to call attention to some more interesting comments from Hirschensohn. I know that among them are those who go to hebrewbooks.org and print out some of the sources I refer to and bring them to shul on Shabbat. That is fine, as long as you aren’t looking at it during the rabbi’s sermon. As it is, Hirschensohn writes a good deal about how the rabbis are not given proper respect, and how ignoramuses have all too much power. At least in one respect, however, things have gotten better since Hirschensohn’s day. In Nimukei Rashi, Bereshit, pp. 46a-46b, he speaks about how the people give more respect to the hazzan than to the rabbi. This doesn’t apply anymore because there are hardly any synagogues that still have a hazzan.

In response to requests, let me therefore mention one more very interesting passage in Hirschensohn’s Nimukei Rashi in this post (with more to come in future posts). But my real suggestion is to study it yourself, even though it might make for difficult reading at times. To paraphrase Chazal (Avot 5:22), “no pain, no gain.” Or as R. Tuvia Hanks put it: “It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”[1]

Before quoting the comment in Nimukei Rashi that I have promised, I also want to record one formulation of Hirschensohn that I think it is magnificent. While R. Soloveitchik undoubtedly would disagree with much of what Hirschensohn writes, if he would have heard the following, I know that he would have regarded it wonderful, expressing the essence of what real Torah learning is all about. In his Musagei Shav ve-Emet, Section Penei ha-Hamah, p. 64, Hirschensohn gives his definition of a lamdan. I am sure readers have their own definitions. Some will say that one who knows a few tractates is a lamdan, while other will say that one who gone through the Ketzot ha-Hoshen earns the title. Hirschensohn has his own approach:

אינני קורא למדן (שם זארגני על ת”ח גדול) רק את זה אשר רמב”ם קשה או רש”י סותרות או תוספות מופרך לא מניח לו לישון

When one can honestly say that a difficult Rambam or Rashi keeps you up at night, only then can you be called a lamdan. As I mentioned, this is a formulation that the Rav would have embraced, and he actually lived this way. I heard from Dr. David Fand, a student of the Rav from the 1940s, who studied in Boston’s Yeshivat Heichal Rabbenu Hayyim Halevi, that one night the Rav woke some students up in order to tell them a hiddush.

In Nimukei Rashi, Bereshit, p. 48b, Hirschensohn discusses the comment of Rashi, Gen. 26:8. The verse states that Abimelech looked out his window and saw that Isaac “was amusing himself with Rebekkah.” Upon this verse, Rashi, based on a Midrash, states that Abimelech saw them having marital relations. The question is, of course, obvious. How is this possible that Isaac and Rebekkah would do this in such a way that people could observe him? As Hirschensohn puts it:

ובאמת זה קשה מאד לחשוב כזאת על עולה תמימה כיצחק שיעשה דבר מגונה כזה ונגד היכל מלך

Hirschensohn therefore refuses to take this Midrash literally. He sees it as a mussar derash about how people living among those at a lower moral level can be negatively influenced by them. He offers his own example of this: elderly women in America. (By “elderly”, I think he means women over sixty.) In Europe they used to dress modestly but in America they were negatively influenced to dress in an inappropriate fashion. He continues:

ואינני חושב שחשבו חכמים שבאמת שימש יצחק מטתו ביום לפני חלון פתוח נגד היכל המלך, רק זה אחד מדרכי הדרוש המוסרי לקשור אותו לאיזה צלצול בלשון להפריז הדבר להגדיל את מוסרו.

Hirschensohn’s comment is not surprising. We have come to expect that anytime there is an unusual Midrash, or one that reflects poorly on a biblical figure, that one of the aharonim will argue that it is not meant to be taken literally. This is no different than the attempts to understand various strange Aggadot allegorically.[2] A good rule of thumb is if the Aggadah is strange, then someone will interpret it in a non-literal fashion. I opened up the Artscroll Rashi translation for the verse we are discussing and was therefore not surprised to find the following: “In truth, according to the Zohar, Isaac conducted himself modestly with Rebekkah. Abimelech did not see them in a physical sense; he understood through some astrological means that they were having relations (Maskil LeDavid).”

Regarding the character of Isaac, Hirschensohn writes:

על יצחק אשר ישב ארבעים שנה בלא אשה ולא שם עיניו על בנות הארץ וישב עשרים שנה עם אשתו בלא בנים ולא לקח אשה אחרת עליה אשר לזה הי’ דבר הרגיל מאד בכל איש שם להרבות נשים ופלגשים ושפחות, אות הוא שהי’ מצונן או מצדקתו משל ביצרו, ואיש כזה לא ישמש מטתו נגד חלון פתוח מול היכל מלך.

In dealing with the issue raised, Hirschensohn appears to be correct that there are only two options in describing Isaac. Either that he didn’t have a sexual drive or that he overcame it. Nevertheless, it does strike me as a bit strange to be speaking of the Patriarch in this fashion, although maybe this is just my own prudishness. Here, for example, is what R. Yehiel Michel of Glogau (died 1730) says about this episode with Isaac in his Nezer ha-Kodesh, vol. 3, p. 329a (64:5), a classic commentary on Bereshit Rabbah.

אע”ג דאמר ר”י המשמש מיטתו ביום ה”ז מגונה והיינו כמ”ש המפרשי’ דמיירי אפילו בבית אפל או במאפיל טליתו דאל”ה מה מגונה דקאמר הא אפילו איסורא איכא . . . ולא שרי בכה”ג בת”ח אלא לצורך שעה בראותו שיצר תאותו מתגבר עליו הרבה כדי שלא יבא לידי הוצא’ ש”ז לבטלה או הרהור רע אצ”ל דבאמת הוי נמי כה”ג ביצחק וזה רמז הכתו’ באומרו והיה כי ארכו לו שם הימים כלומר שאירע לו מקר’ כזה להתגבר יצר תאותו ע”י שארכו לו הימ’ שלא נזדווג לאשתו משו’ שמקמי הכי אפילו בצינעא בלילה לא שימש מיטתו פן תתעבר ויתפרסם הדבר לפני אבימלך ועמו אבל אז הי’ צורך שעה לכך ולזה לא נזהר מלשמש אף ביום.

The author might think he is helping Isaac’s reputation with his explanation, but I actually think just the opposite, that what he says reflects negatively on Isaac. Let’s remember who we are speaking about here. We are not talking about some average guy. We are speaking about the Patriarch Isaac, whom many sources portray as the holiest of the Patriarchs. And regarding him R. Yechiel Michel says that it was צורך שעה?! Does he really expect us to believe that it was such an emergency that Isaac couldn’t have waited until the night? With all due respect to the author, who certainly knew who Isaac was, I can’t understand how he could suggest this. Hirschensohn’s description of Isaac is thus much more in line with how the Tradition encourages us to view the Patriarchs. Of course, I understand what is driving R. Yechiel Michel, namely, the reality of Isaac having sexual relations in the daytime. Unless one is prepared to read this in a non-literal fashion, as did Hirschensohn, there is a real problem and I guess the answer he offered was the best one he could come up with.

I am sure most readers are with me in not feeling comfortable engaging in speculation about the sexual life of the Patriarchs, and yet the truth is that we find such speculation among the commentators. Let me give one example. The Torah states (Gen. 29:20): “And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.” R. Hayyim Zev Rosenfeld, in his Sefer ha-Hayyim (London, 1922), p. 22, asks a very good question. If you love someone, and desperately want to be with her, then it is not seven years that will seem like a few days, but precisely the reverse. A few days would seem like seven years. So why does the Torah say that the years went by very quickly for Jacob? According to Rosenfeld, the answer is that Jacob’s love for Rachel had no sexual component.

Rosenfeld brings the following support for his contention. In blessing Reuben, Jacob says (Gen. 49:3): “Reuben, thou art my first-born, my might, and the first-fruits of my strength.” As a number of talmudic and midrashic passages explain, the sperm that impregnated Leah was the first one ever to leave Jacob’s body.[3] Since the Talmud tells us that a woman cannot become pregnant from the first intercourse, [4] how is it that Leah became pregnant? The Maharsha, Yevamot 34b, deals with the problem. In what can only be described as an exercise in original Midrash, Maharsha suggests that since Jacob was able to prevent any seminal emissions for more than eight decades, one can assume that in his first intercourse with Leah he also did not ejaculate (so that the sperm not be wasted). Therefore in truth, Leah did not become pregnant from the first intercourse.

Maharsha’s explanation, which shows how far removed Jacob was from carnal pleasures, is cited by Rosenfeld as support for his assumption that Jacob’s love for Rachel was entirely non-sexual:

שפיר נוכל לומר עליו באהבתו אותה שלא היה כונתו תאות המשגל

And since his love was non-sexual, that is why the long time waiting seemed like a short time.

(As is often the case with biblical commentaries, Rosenfeld’s question is better than his answer. We can all point to plenty of examples of non-sexual love in which a short time seems much longer [e.g., a parent longing for a child]. Just because Jacob’s love was non-sexual, why should that mean that seven years seemed like a few days?)

The Rashi dealing with Abimelech, Isaac, and Rebekkah reminds me of how in high school, when we first learnt Rashi intensively, we would sometimes come across texts which created all sorts of problems, and the teachers often didn’t deal with them properly. Would it have been so hard for the rebbe to acknowledge that yes, he too finds certain Midrashim strange? I specifically remember when we learnt Rashi to Gen. 25:26, which quotes a Midrash that explains why Esau was born first even though Jacob was conceived first. At the time, we were studying biology and knew that the biological description in this Rashi was incorrect. In what was for me a prologue to the Slifkin affair, one of the students raised this point. I also recall how his question was pushed aside, as if it was unimportant.[5] (Later, I was surprised to find that even in the nineteenth century R. Akiva Eger was clueless about the anatomy of pregnant women. Here is what he writes in his comment to Berakhot 63b, quoting a medieval source:

דז’ חדרים יש באשה שלשה מימין ושלשה משמאול ואחד באמצע אם תתעבר מימין יהיו זכרים ובשמאל נקבות ובאמצע טומטום או אנדרוגינוס)

Another Rashi which raised a problem, for me at least, was Gen. 24:2. Commenting on the biblical expression, שים נא ידך תחת ירכי, Rashi quotes the Midrash that Abraham asks Eliezer, in taking his oath, put his hands on Abraham’s circumcision.

לפי שהנשבע צריך שיטול בידו חפץ של מצוה, כגון ספר תורה או תפילין, והמילה היתה מצוה ראשונה לו ובאה לו על ידי צער והיתה חביבה עליו ונטלה

I remember in high school thinking that this was very strange. But I assumed that it was only since I was corrupted by modern values that I found this strange, and that those who had a pure “Torah hashkafah” would not even raise an eyebrow. I was even too embarrassed to ask the rebbe about this Rashi (which comes from Bereshit Rabbah).[6] It was only many years later that I found that the great R. Raphael Berdugo (1747-1821), known as the מלאך among Moroccan Jewry, had the same response as a fourteen-year-old American student. He does not hesitate to tell us that he finds this Midrash quite strange (Mesamhei Lev, ad loc.).

שהמילה אין בגופה קדושה אדרבה הוא מקום הבושת ואיך יקח בידו ערות חבירו ויזכיר שמו ית’ . . . גם אם רבינו הקדוש לא הניח ידו למטה מחגורו ק”ו אברהם אבינו ע”ה, גם מאכילת עץ הדעת יבושו בני אדם זה מזה וזילותא הוא לאדם נכבד שיחזיק אחר במבושיו

What this shows us is that when a rebbe is asked about this Rashi by one of his students, he should not put on an act and make believe that he too doesn’t find it strange. Instead, he should be honest, just like Berdugo, and acknowledge that this is indeed an unusual Midrash. Such an honest approach will earn the respect of the students and come in handy as the class comes to other strange Midrashim.[7]

Rosenfeld, whom we just cited, also deals with this passage and has a very interesting formulation (p. 21):

שים נא ידך תחת ירכי: כאשר רמזתי לעיל שהיה כלי הולדה קדוש בעיניו, אך משה אסר זאת בתורתו להיות קדושים.

In other words, the old way of taking an oath, which was acceptable in Abraham’s day, was later rendered invalid due to the heightened moral standards of the Torah. His comment, that Abraham regarded the genitals as holy, is explained by him as follows (p. 19):

שאצל אברהם היתה המילה תיקון הדת להקדיש כלי הולדה שהוא המקור מכל מין האנושית, ולכוף את תאותיו . . . וגם המילה היא מקור הולדה והשפע בא על ידו

I will return in a future post to discuss Rosenfeld, who was very unconventional and expressed all sorts of provocative notions.[8] He was also unusual among those born in Eastern Europe in that he published many books in English. Here is his picture, which appears in his Sefer ha-Hayyim, showing that despite his unusual ideas he certainly had the rabbinic look.


2. I want to now go back to one of my earliest posts, from four years ago, in which I discussed the meaning of the word olam in the Bible and how the words Adon Olam should be translated. See here.

I received many e-mails after this post, and there were many important comments posted online. I told a number of people that I would try to mention their comments in a post. Although I can’t get to all of them, at least with regard to some, better late than never.

With regard to appearances of the word olam in the Torah where modern scholars say it means eternal (or something along those lines[9]) and traditional interpreters understand it to mean “world”, R. Nathan Kamenetsky called my attention to Gen. 21:33, where it is clear from Onkelos, Rashi, and Ramban that the word means “world.”[10] To this I will add that Maimonides also understands olam in this verse to mean “world”. See Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 1:3 (Simon Glazer, in his translation, mistakenly renders it “Everlasting God” instead of “God of the World”, “God of the Universe” or something like that. Similarly, Eliyahu Touger, in his translation of this halakhah mistakenly renders it “eternal God”.) See also the index to Pines’ translation of the Guide under Gen. 21:33 for instances in the Guide where Maimonides refers to the verse, and also Schwartz’ edition of the Guide 2:13 n. 14. We must also translate Maimonides’ opening words of each of the three sections of the Guide (and elsewhere[11]) בשם ה’ א-ל עולם as “In the Name of the Lord, God of the World.”

As for what the words Adon Olam mean, in a comment to the original post, Kovner clinches the meaning, I think. He called attention to Berakhot 7b: “From the day that the Holy One, blessed be He, created the world (olam) there was no man that called the Holy One, blessed be He, Lord, until Abraham came and called Him Lord (adon).” I had forgotten about this passage, and I think it is obvious that the words Adon Olam are based on this text, meaning that the passage should be translated as “Master of the Universe”, or something along those lines. A very learned reader also pointed out to me that this same point is made by R. Pinchas Zebihi in his Mi-Zahav u-mi-Paz (Jerusalem, 1993), at the end where there is a commentary on Adon Olam. See also the online discussion here.

Responding to Kovner, R. Yitzhak Oratz e-mailed me that Kovner’s very point was approved by the Vilna Gaon and repeated by none other than the Brisker Rav. See Dov Eliach, Sefer ha-Gaon, vol. 1, pp. 425-426, where it states that the Gaon was shown this point in the siddur Magid Tzedek and said that the entire siddur was worthwhile for this one point. Ad kan R. Oratz.[12]

With regard to the word olam, it is true that in rabbinic literature it means “world”, but I would be remiss in not mentioning that the older meaning is found as well. Sometimes, it is unclear which the correct meaning is. For example, Mishnah Yadayim 3:5 reads:

אין כל העולם כולו כדאי כיום שניתן בו שיר השירים לישראל

Soncino translates: “The whole world is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel.” Others translate similarly. Yet A. S. Halkin renders it: “All of time is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel.”[13] Halkin’s opinion is noted in a comprehensive article devoted to the very issue here being discussed.[14] Fuderman and Gruber, the authors of this article, also point to two biblical texts “of Hellenistic date” in which they claim olam means “world.” One of them is Dan. 12:7: .חי העולם They translate this as “the life/vital force of the world,” and note that this usage is found in the Jewish liturgy where it has been transformed into חי העולמים, with the same meaning.

The other example they give is Eccl. 3:11: גם את העולם נתן בלבם. They are not the first to translate olam here as “world.” The old JPS also translated it this way: “He hath set the world in their heart.” But in the Soncino edition, which uses the old JPS, the commentary rejects this translation, commenting that “the only signification” olam has in the Bible is “eternity.” The translation would therefore have to read: “He hath set eternity [i.e., a sense of the future] in their heart.” Soncino’s note might be based on Ibn Ezra’s comment to this verse, where he says flatly that in the Bible the word olam only means “eternity,” not “world.” (He says likewise in his Short Commentary to Exodus 31:17; Commentary to Psalms 66:7, 89:4.) Daat Mikra agrees with Soncino, explaining the verse as follows: את העולם: את השאיפה לחיים עולם ונצחיות ולדעת את הנעלם, מה שהיה לפנים ומה שיהיה לאחור [15]

I will leave the meaning of olam in this verse to the biblical scholars to fight over. But I want to return to the point made by Fuderman and Gruber that Ecclesiastes was composed in the Hellenistic period, many centuries after Solomon. Based on this they don’t see it as at all incongruous that the word olam means “world” in this book because we are dealing with a later development of biblical Hebrew.[16] This relates to another interesting point.

At the beginning of the standard Vilna edition of the Mishnah there is an essay on R. Judah the Prince by R. Moses Kunitz. Here is the first page.

This essay is excerpted from Kunitz’ Beit Rabbi (Vienna 1805), most of which is actually a play in six acts.[17] Kunitz is best known for his Ben Yohai which is a valiant, if unsuccessful, defense of the ancient dating of the Zohar against R. Jacob Emden’s Mitpahat Sefarim. He was a very pious man and in his lifetime was treated with great respect.

In the next issue of Milin Havivin I will have information regarding this, so there is no need to repeat it here. Here is his picture.

Kunitz is also famous as one of the rabbis whose responsum to the early Reformers is printed in Nogah ha-Tzedek. This was from a time when the Reformers made it seem that all they were looking for was a more lenient halakhic approach. They also succeeded in receiving letters from two Italian rabbis. Just as these rabbis were not Reform in any way, neither was Kunitz. Not knowing who the Reformers were, he fell into their trap, which is perhaps the best way to put it. Yet as I mentioned, this didn’t greatly affect his standing in the rabbinic world, because people assumed that his was an innocent error. In fact, in all the polemics against the Reformers, none of the great rabbis of the day even mention Kunitz.[18]

A few years ago a new edition of the classic Vilna Mishnah was reprinted, and lo and behold, Kunitz’ essay is missing. The publisher was obviously told that there was some controversy around Kunitz, and he therefore just cut out the essay. Yet if the publisher wanted to censor, he missed the real thing. (I wouldn’t be surprised if following this post, future printings of the Mishnah also cut out what I will now discuss. That is the reason why I don’t call attention to various “interesting” books that have been put up on hebrewbooks.org [including Karaite literature], at least until they are also on Google books. I know that soon after I discuss them, they will be taken down. As it is, a number of anti-hasidic and Haskalah works have already been removed from the site. Sometimes these books have come down within a day or two of being put up, after someone has informed the site that they put up a “dangerous” volume. So you have to be quick when they post the new books and download anything you think might be removed.)

Immediately following Kunitz’ essay, there is another article on the grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew by Solomon Loewisohn. In the very first note he refers to the book of Ecclesiastes, and concludes his comment with והטעם ידוע למשכילי עם Here is the page.


What he is alluding to in this note is that Ecclesiastes is a late biblical book, and thus could not have been written by Solomon. To show this he points to the word חוץ, which in its usage in Ecclesiastes 2:25 is an Aramaism, and thus post-dates the biblical Hebrew of Solomon’s day.[19] To use an expression of the Sages, we live in an olam hafukh. Kunitz’ essay was thought worthy of censorship, and at the same time this note remains in every printing of the Vilna edition of the Mishnah. Yet as I mentioned above, let’s see how long it is before this note, or even the complete essay, is also removed.

Regarding the book of Ecclesiastes, in Limits, p. 26 n. 140, I referred to a comment of R. Israel Bruna which appears to say that Ecclesiastes was not divinely inspired. R. Yonasan Rosman (one of whose seforim I mentioned in an earlier post) has taken issue with me in this. However, he also points out that this is exactly what Maharsha seems to be saying in his commentary to Shabbat 30b. I also found that R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes, in his note to Berakhot 4a and in Kol Sifrei Maharatz Chajes, vol. 2, p. 927, states explicitly that Ecclesiastes was not divinely inspired. R. Michael Broyde has noted that this is also stated by R. David Ibn Zimra in his responsa, vol. 2, no. 722.[20]

Rosman also points out that Maimonides, Hilkhot She’ar Avot ha-Tum’ot 9:6, states that Ecclesiastes (and Song of Songs) are “words of wisdom”, with the implication that these books are not divinely inspired. This expression, “words of wisdom”, comes from Tosefta Yadayim 2:14, where it is explicitly contrasted with ruah ha-kodesh.

ר’ שמעון בן מנסיא אומר שיר השירים מטמא את הידים מפני שנאמרה ברוח הקדש. קהלת אינה מטמא את הידים מפני שהיא מחכמתו של שלמה.

Based on the passage just mentioned, I initially assumed that Maimonides is indeed saying that Ecclesiastes was not written with divine inspiration. I also found that the important commentator R. Masud Hai Rakah is of this opinion. Yet then there is a problem, because according to the Tosefta, Song of Songs was written with divine inspiration and yet Maimonides also refers to this book as “words of wisdom.” Rakah himself raises this problem and can offer no solution,[21] but it is likely that when Maimonides speaks of these books as being “words of wisdom” it does not mean that they are lacking in divine inspiration. We can see this from Hilkhot Talmud Torah 5:4, where he quotes Song of Songs and writes regarding it אמר שלמה בחכמתו. The same words are found in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 2:12 and Hilkhot Deot 3:3, 4:15, 19 and in these cases Maimonides is quoting verses from Proverbs. Maimonides believed that both Song of Songs and Proverbs were written with divine inspiration, and yet we see that he uses the term “wisdom” with regard to them. The truth is that this phraseology comes directly from the Talmud,[22] and need not have anything to do with whether the text being described is divinely inspired. This whole problem is dealt with by the brilliant R. Meshulam Roth in an article in Sinai 17 (1945) pp. 267ff. With his typical erudition, Roth shows that Maimonides indeed regarded Ecclesiastes as being divinely inspired and in fact states so explicitly in Guide 2:45. Roth also shows how in a few places he describes Solomon as a prophet.[23]

Many might find this entire discussion strange, for they assume that if a book is in the canon that means it must be regarded as having been divinely inspired. I have found such a conception in many books.[24] Yet it is incorrect, and as Shnayer Leiman has shown, the tanna R. Simeon ben Menasia, while he regarded Ecclesiastes as an uninspired book, also thought that it was canonical. Thus, while he states that Ecclesiastes does not defile the hands, he also expounded a verse from Ecclesiastes.[25]

As far as I know, the Sages never “decided” that Ecclesiastes is a divinely inspired book. It would therefore seem to be entirely acceptable for one to hold the position of R. Simeon ben Menasia, which was shared by Beit Shammai and R. Meir,[26] that the book is not a product of ruah ha-kodesh. Obviously, one who rejects the book, or any other biblical text, claiming that it was a mistake to have been included in the Canon, has to be regarded as a sectarian. However, here too I think that there is more room for personal opinions than people often think. For example, what about someone who accepts Ecclesiastes as part of the Canon but thinks that the Sages were wrong in this decision, and that they should have adopted the view that the ideas of this book are not fit to be included in the Bible? This was Samuel David Luzzatto’s early position, although he later became more sympathetic to Ecclesiastes. Yet despite this negative view, Luzzatto never rejected the canonical status of this book.[27]

Or what if someone thinks that the halakhah should have been decided in accordance with Samuel (as understood by a number of rishonim)[28] that the book of Esther should not have been included in the canon? As long as one accepts the halakhah as recorded by the Sages he is not to be regarded as a Zaken Mamre, which shows that acceptance of the halakhah in practice is what is important, but one doesn’t have to think that the Sages were correct. After all, in the story of the Oven of Akhnai (Bava Metzia 59b), while R. Eliezer was forced to accept R. Joshua’s viewpoint, I don’t think there can be any doubt that R. Eliezer still believed that he was correct. How could he not, when God Himself agreed with him? Yet the most R. Eliezer could hope for was that his decision would be adopted by a future beit din, and maybe only after the arrival of the Messianic era. Let us not forget that the Mishnah in Eduyot 1:5 explicitly tells us that minority opinions are recorded so that a later court can rely on them, meaning that there is no problem for one to argue the case of a rejected opinion, as long as one does not adopt it in practice (i.e., before a later court gives its imprimatur to do so).[29]

All this seem to be no different than someone who, after examining a talmudic dispute, thinks that the weight of the evidence shows that the halakhah should be in accordance with Abaye, and yet the Talmud decides the halakhah in accordance with Rava. Such a person accepts the practical halakhah, and this is no different than someone who thinks that the Shulhan Arukh decided the halakhah improperly, but who nevertheless follows the law as recorded. You can even argue that this is a very high level of commitment, namely, one who thinks the halakhah should be different, but nevertheless sublimates his personal feelings and accepts the law as we have it.[30]

Similarly, the assumptions of academic Talmud study lead, in theory, to the undermining of many talmudic conclusions. But the practitioners of this form of study have always insisted that since they don’t seek to change the accepted halakhic practice, there can be no religious objection to their approach.

The only reason the Song of Songs was included in the Canon is because it was interpreted in an allegorical fashion.[31] Does this mean that one must accept that this was the original meaning of the book? Jacob Barth (1851-1914) certainly didn’t think so. Barth was the son-in-law of R. Esriel Hildesheimer and one of the most brilliant Semitists of his day. In addition to teaching at the University of Berlin, he was also a long-time and revered faculty member at the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin. Just to give one example of this, in discussing the great achievements of German Orthodoxy, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg lists the following four men as examples of what German Orthodoxy can be proud of: Hirsch, Hildesheimer, Hoffmann, and Barth.[32]

Here is a picture of Barth.


Barth argued—and taught his students at the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin—that the Song of Songs was not originally intended as an allegory, but this was a later interpretation of the Rabbis, and as already mentioned it was precisely this interpretation that enabled the book to be included in the Canon.[33] Barth believed that the Song of Songs was actually a collection of different songs, composed in various periods.[34] They were designed to be sung at a wedding and the days of feasting, and give expression to marital happiness and love which are basic to the Jewish family. According to Barth, just like the Psalms were originally written by the Psalmist with specific circumstances in mind, but their meaning for the Jewish people throughout history is not tied to this original intent, the same can be said for the Song of Songs. What it originally meant is different than what it later came to mean for generations of Jews.[35]


To be continued
* * * *
In my last post, available here, I wrote about the issue of lo tehanem. As far as the Modern Orthodox are concerned, based on the Meiri and others, these laws are no longer regarded as applicable in modern times. (Although as I mentioned, the Centrists are trying to bring them back.) Someone sent me a link to Dov Bear’s post available here. Dov Baer included the following text that recently appeared (and highlighted certain sections).

I have already mentioned the Slifkin controversy in this post, and regarding matters of science and Torah there definitely are differences between the Modern Orthodox and the haredim. However, I think that when it comes to matters like lo tehanem, the divide is much more significant. If the haredi/ hasidic world really accepts the outlook of the page printed above, then its understanding of what “Jewish values” are all about is far removed from that of the Modern Orthodox.[36] We can also see how secure haredi Jews in America must feel in order for them to put this sort of material in the English language, for all to see.

In two posts from now, I will discuss a dispute currently taking place in the hasidic world in America about how to relate to non-Jews. For now I will simply note that a common theme among virtually all who abandon hasidic life, in explaining what they found objectionable in their former lifestyle, is the denigration of “the other” found in the hasidic world. In the forthcoming post, I will deal with a brave voice from that world who is putting forth a different approach.


[1] See here.
[2] Here is what Louis Ginzberg wrote about the unusual aggadot (On Jewish Law and Lore [New York, 1970], p. 77 (I thank Gershon Bacon for reminding me of this passage.) There is a lot one can say about this comment.

With your permission I shall commence my lecture by recounting an incident that happened to me. It is a memory from boyhood, which means the time when I had already been liberated from the hard discipline of the master of the heder, and, though yet a child of nine, had begun to study, in the traditional phrase, “by myself.” I was then studying the tractate Baba Bathra. When I reached the tales of Rabbah bar bar Hannah, doubts began to disturb my mind; my peace was particularly troubled by those geese who were so fat that they had streams of oil flowing from them and by the bird that was so big that the waters of the sea reached only to its ankles and its head split the heavens. My joy was great when I came across a book by one of the “enlightened” of the older generation (if my memory is correct it was the Maphteah by Shatzkes), from which I learned that these geese were neither fat nor thin and that the giant bird possessed neither feet nor wings, but that the whole tale was merely a flight of the imagination, or, as the ancients used to say, it was only a parable—the moral I have forgotten. I was a child then; but when I reached maturity I realized that in truth the geese of Rabbah bar bar Hannah were real geese and the giant bird was literally a bird. When regarded as natural creations of the folk imagination, they lost their strangeness and incomprehensibility. On the contrary, it would be all the more strange if we possessed no such tales; in that case it would be extremely difficult to explain so striking a difference between our people and all others, one involving so great a triumph of reason over imagination that the latter had become completely atrophied.


[3] See Torah Shelemah, Gen. ch. 49, note 47.
[4] Do any of the readers know where the Talmud picked up this piece of folklore? I assume it was a common notion in ancient times. See Bereshit Rabbah 45:5, where the matter is disputed. Noda bi-Yehudah, Even ha-Ezer no. 22, recognizes that there are women who do become pregnant after first intercourse, and therefore claims that the Talmud was only giving a general rule, but there are exceptions. See R. Neriah Gutel, Hishtanut ha-Tevaim (Jerusalem, 1995), pp. 88ff.
[5] I assume that the rebbe’s response was due to the fact that the passage quoted by Rashi is a Midrash. If it was Rashi’s own explanation, I don’t think he would have regarded it as a disrespectful question. In general, and readers can correct me if I am wrong, I don’t think that the opponents of Slifkin assume that together with Hazal the greatest rishonim are also infallible on scientific matters (the one exception perhaps being the Lubavitchers when it comes to the Rambam). When I was in yeshiva I never came across a rebbe who thought that, although I can’t remember anyone actually spending time on one of the rishonim and explaining why what he says is not correct scientifically, or, to take a different issue, that perhaps the rishon’s view of women doesn’t reflect how we currently think. Had they done so, it would have had an enormously positive influence on some of the students who instead came to believe that the Torah was out of date and not relevant to their lives.

To give one example of many, the online elucidation of Tosafot, available here, in discussing Tosafot, Shabbat 65b. s.v. sahada, offers the following preface:

Before we approach this Tosfos we must realize that during the times of the Reeshonim, there were very few if any maps in Europe of any of the areas that are being discussed in the G’moro. All the knowledge that they had about the rivers and places was what they gleaned from the G’moro or Midrosh about these places.

What forces the translator to add this comment is that Tosafot rejects Rashi’s explanation (which I will soon come to) and incorrectly states that all rivers flow from east to west. (Among European rivers, the Danube flows west to east.) It turns out that Rashi’s explanation is also geographically incorrect. Rashi, Shabbat 65b s.v. sahada, writes about the Euphrates: שהוא יורד מארץ ישראל לבבל

In other words, Rashi thought that the Euphrates originated in the Land of Israel, and flowed from there to Babylonia. Yet this is incorrect as the Euphrates is not within the Land of Israel. Artscroll recognizes the problem and states that the Euphrates is on the northern border of “Greater Israel,” i.e., the land promised to Abraham. I believe that this is an apologetic explanation. The Euphrates will only be part of the Land of Israel in messianic days. It was never a part of Israel during the First Temple, or during the Second Temple. Yet Rashi is speaking about the river as actually part of the Land of Israel. See Isaac Samuel Reggio, Ha-Torah ve-ha-Filosofyah (Vienna, 1827), p. 63.

[6] See also the various Midrashim cited in Torah Shelemah, Gen. 47:29, where Jacob is speaking to Joseph and he too says שים נא ידך תחת ירכי.
[7] There are other ways of dealing with the Midrash. See e.g., R. Paragi Alush, Ohev Mishpat (Djerba, 1928), vol. 1, no. 3, that Eliezer only touched the organ from outside of Abraham’s clothes. R. Eliyahu Katz, Amar ve-Amarta (Beer Sheva, 1994), Gen. 24:2, finds the Midrash so strange that he can’t take it literally, and even uses the term has ve-shalom with reference to the literal meaning. He does so even though, as far as I can tell, all the standard commentaries on the Midrash and Rashi do take it literally. Here are his words:

תמוה מאד שהמילה נחשבת כחפץ של מצוה. והרי אין בזה מן הצניעות . . . אך ודאי שאין הכוונה ח”ו כפשוטו, אלא הכוונה שהזכיר את המצוה כמו שאומר שנשבע בשם ה’.

[8] For now, here is one just one example. He assumes that Gen.36:31-43 is post-Mosaic.

ואלה המלכים אשר מלכו בארץ אדום לפני מלוך מלך לבני ישראל: מזה נראה כי זמן רב נכתבה פרשה זו, כי ידע כבר את מלכי ישראל.


[9] See Sacha Stern, Time and Process in Ancient Judaism (Oxford, 2003), pp. 75 n. 43, 109ff.
[10] Mordecai Spitz called my attention to Neh. 9:5, where the traditional commentaries also understand olam to mean world.
[11] See Saul Lieberman, Hilkhot ha-Yerushalmi, p. 5 n. 7.
[12] I should also mention that there is dispute about how the word חבלי should be translated in Adon Olam. According to Salomon Speier the meaning is “my portion” and not “my pain” See his note in Journal of Jewish Studies 4 (1953), pp. 40-41. Zebihi, Mi-Zahav u-mi-Paz, at the end, also argues for this understanding. None of the many translations I have checked agree with this. [S. of On the Main Line calls my attention to David Levi’s London 1794 Rosh Hashanah Machzor, where the passage is translated as “Rock of my portion in time of distress.”]
[13] The meaning of olam in Avot 1:2 – על שלשה דברים העולם עומד – has also been called into question. See Judah Goldin, Studies in Midrash and Related Literature (Philadelphia, 1988), p. 34.
[14] Kirsten A. Fudeman and Mayer I. Gruber, “’Eternal King/ King of the World’: From the Bronze Age to Modern Times” A Study in Lexical Semantics.”REJ 166 (2007), pp. 209-242.
[15] R. Elijah Benamozegh translates Ps. 106:48: ברוך ה’ אלקי ישראל מהעולם ועד העולם as “Blessed is the Lord, God of Israel, From World to World,” and Ps. 145:13 מלכותך מלכות כל עולמים as “Your kingship is a kingship of all worlds.” See Israel and Humanity, trans. Maxwell Luria (New York, 1995), p. 184. I wonder if Benamozegh meant these as scientific translations, or if this is to be regarded as derush.
[16] See also Robert Gordis, Koheleth—The Man and His World (New York, 1968), pp. 231-232.
[17] The version of Kunitz’ essay that appears in the Vilna Mishnayot is not identical to that which appears in Beit Rabbi. In particular, a few footnotes have been added. This is not the only example where the editors of the Vilna Mishnayot (Romm) tampered with texts. See Kalman Kahana, Heker ve-Iyun (Tel Aviv, 1960), vol. 1, p. 134 (called to my attention by Eliezer Brodt).
[18] Anyone who wants to visit Kunitz’ grave can find it in the Kozma cemetery in Budapest. For people looking to visit graves, the most famous in the Kozma cemetery is R. Shimon Oppenheim, and he is easy to find. He is not that well known and yet his grave is visited more than many other gedolim who were of much greater significance. This is because R. Shimon promised, as it states on his tombstone, that whoever comes to his grave and recites the Menuhah Nekhonah, his prayers will be answered. (The E-l Male Rachamim commonly recited is an abridged version of the Menuhah Nekhonah, which is found in the kabbalistic work Maavar Yabok) . Since this is a guarantee from a holy rabbi, it is not surprising that his grave would attract people.

So how to find Kunitz’ grave? Unfortunately, the computer print-out provided by the cemetery directs people to the wrong place. If you are standing at R. Shimon’s grave, the plot to the left is that of R. Israel Wahrmann. He was the first chief rabbi of Pest. His grandson, Mor Wahrmann, was the president of the Jewish community from 1883-1892 and a member of parliament from 1869. He was a proud Jew, no question about it. He once even had a duel with an anti-Semite. Neither was killed, but Wahrmann was sentenced to eight days in prison. See Kinga Frojimovics, et al, Jewish Budapest (Budapest, 1999), pp. 214ff., 260. However, he despised the Orthodox (and they detested him). During the debate in Parliament over the Orthodox request to create separate communities, he stood up and started reading sections of the Shulhan Arukh to show how foolish the Orthodox were. All three of his children ended up converting to Catholicism. See Jewish Budapest, p. 216 and R. Leopold Greenwald, Korot ha-Torah ve-ha-Emunah be-Hungaryah (Budapest, 1921), p. 78, and in Apriyon 2 (1925), p. 130.

Two graves to the right of R. Shimon’s is that of Kunitz. Unlike R. Shimon, no one has yet stepped forward to redo Kunitz’ tombstone, which is in bad condition. In another hundred years it will probably be entirely illegible. However, a good portion of it can still be read. This left me perplexed, as it is not the same inscription as that found in Greenwald’s Mekorot le-Korot Yisrael (Humenne, 1934), p. 27. How to explain this?

[19] See R. Meir Mazuz, Kovetz Ma’amarim (Bnei Brak, 2003), p. 60. There are a number of other unusual words in Ecclesiastes, such as pardes (2:5) and pitgam (8:11; both Persian loanwords), which academic scholars have pointed to to show that the book is post-Solomonic. (Pardes is also found in Song of Songs 4:13.) See Shadal in Otzar Nehmad 3 (1860), p. 19, who discusses this and among other points notes that the words כבר and ענין do not appear in any other biblical book. See also Robert Gordis, “Koheleth: Hebrew or Aramaic?” Journal of Biblical Literature 71 (1952), pp. 93-109. In Amos Hakham’s introduction to the Daat Mikra Shir ha-Shirim, pp. 12-13, he rejects the significance of Persian loanwords in dating the text.

Incidentally, R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi, Ho’il Moshe: Hamesh Megilot ve-Sefer Mishlei (Livorno, 1880), pp. 80-81, states that you can also find some Aramaic words and expressions in Proverbs, as well as later Hebrew forms, none of which could originate in Solomon’s era. Yet this discovery did not trouble Ashkenazi in the slightest.

אין לתמוה אם נפלו בספר זה כמה תיבות ומליצות מל’ ארמי וגם איזו זרות בדקדוק הלשון כמו פעל נשתוה (סימן כ”ז ט”ו) בנין נתפעל ע”ד נשתנה נתרפא נצטרע ודומיהם בלשון חכמים . . . לפי שמפי שלמה יצאו המשלים בל’ מדויק, רק בעברם מפה אל פה דור אחר דור בעוד שקרבת ארם הכניסה בשפת ב”י [בני ישראל] תיבות ומליצות נכריות, נהיה שבבוא יום ונרשמו על ספר כבר הורגלו לאמרם כמו שנמצאו אצלנו, ואם היו מחליפים בהם דברים היו נגרעים מערכם, כי כן יארע לכל משל מאיזה לשון שיהיה שצריך לאמרו כמו שהוא בפי המון העם ואין לתקן בו או להוסיף עליו או לגרוע ממנו

[20] “Defilement of the Hands, Canonization of the Bible, and the Special Status of Esther, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs,” Judaism 44 (Winter 1995), p. 70.


[21] Ma’asah Rakah,ad loc.: לא ידעתי למה קרי שיר השירים דברי חכמה דהלא ברוח הקודש נאמר וקדש קדשים הוא He does not ask this question about Ecclesiastes, which shows that he assumes that according to Maimonides Ecclesiastes is only divrei hokhmah.
[22] See R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes, Kol Sifrei Maharatz Chajes, vol. 1, p. 439; Sid Z. Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture (New Haven, 1991), p. 173 n. 317.
[23] For examples from the Talmud where Solomon is described in this fashion, see R. Betzalel Zev Safran, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rabaz, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 64 (in the note). Regarding R. Meshulam Roth, it is unfortunate that almost nothing has been written about him. The Tchebiner Rav is reported to have stated that had R. Meshulam been a member of Agudat Israel, the haredim would have crowned him gadol ha-dor. I hope to discuss him in a future segment of my Torah in Motion classes.
[24] Pretty much everyone also seems also to assume that a divinely inspired book included in the Canon had to be have been written in Hebrew. Yet Ibn Ezra, Job 2:11, thinks that the book of Job is a translation from another language, and that is why it is so difficult to understand.
[25] See Leiman, Canonization, p. 113.
[26] Megillah 7a.
[27] Shadal originally thought that Ecclesiastes taught heretical doctrines and was fraudulently attributed to King Solomon. Along these lines, I should note that there were talmudic sages who thought that Solomon had sinned so grievously that he lost his share in the World to Come. See Saul Lieberman, “Hearot le-Ferek Alef shel Kohelet Rabbah,” in Studies in Mysticism and Religion Presented to Gershom G. Scholem (Jerusalem, 1968), pp. 163ff. If someone today expressed agreement with this rabbinic position, I am certain that he would be roundly condemned.
[28] See Broyde, “Defilement of the Hands,” p. 68.
[29] By the same token, someone I know once commented that while in practice he accepts the halakhah as recorded in the Talmud and Shulhan Arukh, some of these halakhot relating to economic matters derive from a very different circumstance than what we have today. He assumes that a future Sanhedrin will revise some of these halakhot which are economically counterproductive and out of touch with how markets work.
[30] See Seridei Esh, vol. 3 no. 54 where R. Weinberg admits that a halakhah in the Shulhan Arukh causes him anguish.

ואודה על האמת, שאיסור זה גורם לי צער גדול

Weinberg was dealing with whether a woman whose father isn’t Jewish can marry a kohen. He would have liked to permit it, but the Shulhan Arukh ruled otherwise. What made the Shulhan Arukh’s ruling so frustrating to Weinberg is the fact that R. Joseph Karo went against his own principle and ruled in accordance with R. Asher, despite the fact that the Rif and Rambam ruled differently. Furthermore, the Vilna Gaon agreed with the Shulhan Arukh. So in the end, Weinberg felt that he must accept the Shulhan Arukh’s ruling. While Conservative halakhists are able, in cases like this, to fall back on conscience, which can trump even biblical law, Orthodox halakhists cannot do so. They must accept the halakhah even if they think it should have been decided differenttly.

[31] Interestingly, Daniel Boyarin has argued that the earliest rabbinic approach to the book was not allegory. He writes as follows:

According to the earliest strata of Rabbinic hermeneutics, the Song of Songs was not an allegory in the sense of paradigms projected onto the syntagmatic axis or concrete entities and events that signify abstractions. Rather it was an actual love dialogue spoken by God to Israel and Israel to God in concrete historical circumstances, or written by Solomon, as if spoken by Israel and God in those circumstances. . . . If the impulse of Origen is to spiritualize and allegorize physical love quite out of existence in the allegorical reading of the Song, the move of the midrash is to understand the love of God and Israel as an exquisite version of precisely that human erotic love. Reading the Song of Songs as a love dialogue between God and Israel is then no more allegorical than reading it as a love dialogue between King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. The Song is not connected with an invisible meaning but with the text of the Torah and thus with concrete moments of historical memory.

See Boyarin, “The Eye in the Torah: Ocular Desire in Midrashic Hermeneutic,” Critical Inquiry 16 (1990), pp. 543, 549. See also Gerson D. Cohen, Studies in the Variety of Rabbinic Cultures (Philadelphia, 1991), pp. 3-17.
[32] Li-Frakim (1967 edition), pp. 232-233.
[33] “Hartzaotav shel Yaakov Barth al Sefer Yishayahu ba-Beit Midrash le-Rabanim be-Berlin” in Uriel Simon and Moshe Goshen-Gottstein, eds., Iyunei Mikra u-Farshanut (Ramat Gan, 1980), pp. 83-85. (Regarding the dating of Ecclesiastes, discussed earlier in this post, see ibid. for Barth’s view that Ecclesiastes was written ca. 200 BCE.) I have elsewhere discussed the controversy that broke out when R. Raphael Breuer published a commentary to the Song of Songs that interpreted the book in a literal fashion. See Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, p. 83, and my article on the Frankfurt rabbinate in Milin Havivin 3 (2007), available here.

This commentary was one of the issues that led people to oppose Breuer inheriting his father’s position as rabbi of the Frankfurt separatist community. I find it hard to understand why this commentary aroused such opposition. After all, why can’t the Song of Songs be understood as describing a loving Jewish marriage? Breuer was not denying the allegorical interpretation, only adding an additional level of meaning.

Incidentally, once when a cantor at a wedding sang some words from Song of Songs as the bride walked around the groom, R. Soloveitchik “was not happy. This, after all, was a passuk [verse] in Shir Hashirim which he felt should not be applied to a man and woman in a literal sense.” See Heshie Billet, “Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik (The Rov) ZT”L: Role Model Par Excellence,” in Zev Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations (Jersey City, 2008), p. 152. The same opinion is expressed by R. Yosef Lieberman, Mishnat Yosef, vol. 7, no. 101. See also R. Moshe Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah II, no. 142. In addition, Sanhedrin 101a states הקורא פסוק של שיר השירים ועושה אותו כמין זמר . . . מביא רעה לעולם (Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, ch. 36, states that such a person has no share in the World to Come.) However, Kallah Rabati: Baraita, ch. 1, explains this passage as follows: היכי דמי כמין זמר כגון דזמיר ביה ודעתיה על הרהור See also R. Jacob Emden’s note to Sanhedrin 101a:

הקורא פסוק של שיר השירים ועושה אותו כמין זמר נראה דהיינו שמשתמש בו לעשות ממנו זמר לחשוקה אילת אהבים ולחבר אותו לשיר עגבים

This means that there is no objection to singing a song from Shir ha-Shirim in a “kosher” fashion, such as at a wedding or if sung as praise of God. (Emden’s note was published from manuscript in the Wagschal Talmud, and does not appear in the standard editions. I learnt of this from R. David Teherani, Divrei David, vol. 2, Orah Hayyim no. 37.)

See R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yabia Omer, vol. 3, Orah Hayyim 15:5, that in Egypt the practice was to sing verses from Song of Songs in the synagogue between Passover and Shavuot. He also quotes R. Meir Abulafia, Yad Ramah, Sanhedrin 101a who writes:

ויש לפרש דהני מילי מאן דקרי ליה דרך שחוק אבל מאן דמיכוין לשבוחי ביה לקב”ה דרך ניגון שפיר דמי ומילתא צריכא עיונא

Returning to the Rav, it must be noted that he was opposed to all singing under the chupah. See Daniel Greer, “Ma’aseh Rav – V’dok,” in Eleff, ed., Mentor of Generations, p. 177, that at his wedding Rav stopped the cantor from singing Im Eshkochech Yerushalayim. (Others are opposed to all songs which use biblical verses, whether the words are taken whether the words are taken from Song of Songs or from any other biblical text. The only permission would be at a seudat mitzvah. See R. Ben Zion Abba Shaul, Or le-Tziyon, vol. 2, ch. 14 no. 35.) As for the Song of Songs, the Rav also stated that it is “forbidden” to interpret it literally. He even put this into a halakhic context:

בשיר השירים איכא הלכה שאין בו פשט אלא כפי הבנת הרמז הדרש והסוד. המקרא יוצא מידי פשוטו והדרש הופך להיות הפשט

See Reshimot Shiurim, Bava Kamma, ed. Reichman (New York, 2005), p. 494 (to Bava Kamma 83b). See also R. Hershel Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav, pp. 289-290.

[34] אפריון and פרדס (3:9, 4:13) are among the late Hebrew words he points to show that some sections of the book were composed in the post-exilic period, many centuries after Solomon. R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi, introduction to Ho’il Moshe: Hamesh Megilot ve-Sefer Mishlei, rejects the notion that based on a couple of individual words one can establish the book’s date. Yet while Ashkenazi defends the Solomonic authorship of Song of Songs and Proverbs (see above, n. 19), he does not believe that Ecclesiastes was written by Solomon. One of his proofs is from Eccl. 1:16: “Lo, I have gotten great wisdom, more also than all that were before me over Jerusalem.” According to Ashkenazi, since Solomon was only the second king to reign in Jerusalem, he never would have written in this fashion. See also 2:7. 9 where the author writes about how he differs “from all who were before me in Jerusalem.” Again, Jerusalem had not been in Israelite hands for that long so it is hard to see Solomon saying this. Ashkenazi also points to the numerous Aramaic words in the book as showing that it had to have post-dated Solomon.
[35] I found a difficult passage in the Netziv’s commentary on Song of Songs, (Metiv Shir). Commenting on the first verse, he writes:

וכן שיר אחות לנו קטנה נאמר בימי א”א [אברהם אבינו] כמבואר בב”ר פ’ לך, ויבואר במקומו, אבל שלמה אסף השירים ברוה”ק וגם הוסיף הרבה משלו ועשאן שיר נפלא אחד.

The Netziv states that the section of Song of Songs beginning with ch. 8:8 (“We have a little sister . . .”) was written in the days of Abraham. What is his proof? Bereshit Rabbah 39:1 states: “R. Berekhiah commenced: We have a little sister (ahot; Song of Songs 8:8), this refers to Abraham, who united (ihah) the whole world for us.” R. Berekhiah continues to find allusions to Abraham in the next couple of verses as well. In other words, R. Berekhiah offers a nice Midrash about how Song of Songs homiletically refers to Abraham. But how does the Netziv possibly derive from this that the verses were written in the days of Abraham? The very next section in Bereshit Rabbi cites a verse from Ecclesiastes and states: “this refers to Abraham.” Does the Netziv assume that this too was written in the days of Abraham? Midrash is full of this type of homiletic comment, so why here does the Netziv think that we can learn something historical from R. Berekhiah’s statement?

[36] See also my post here.



Daniel J. Lasker – “December 6 Is Coming: Get Out the Umbrellas”

December 6 Is Coming: Get Out the Umbrellas
By Daniel J. Lasker

Daniel J. Lasker is Norbert Blechner Professor of Jewish Values at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, and is chair of the Goldstein-Goren Department of Jewish Thought. His landmark work Jewish Philosophical Polemics against Christianity in the Middle Ages, originally published in 1977, was recently republished with a new introduction in 2007.

This is Professor Lasker’s first post at the Seforim blog.

We Jews in Israel have been praying for rain since the seventh of Marheshvan (the night of Thursday, October 18), but, unfortunately, so far the prayers have generally not yet been answered (especially in Beer Sheva where I live). Next week, it will be the chance of Jews who live in the Diaspora to pray for rain, beginning in Maariv of the night of Wednesday, December 5 (the eve of December 6). As undoubtedly all readers of the Seforim blog know, the dates for asking for rain (adding the words ve-ten tal u-matar li-verakha to the ninth blessing of the Shemoneh Esreh, in the Ashkenazi and Nusah Sefarad rites; or changing the form of that blessing from Barkheinu to Bareikh Aleinu, in what is now usually known as the Edot ha-Mizrah rite) are different for the Land of Israel and for the Diaspora. Perhaps not all readers know 1) why there is a difference; 2) why most years one begins the prayer in Maariv of December 4 (the eve of December 5); and 3) why one begins on December 5 this year.

Why is there a difference?

Mishnah Ta’anit 1:3 reads: “On the third of Marheshvan one is to begin praying for rain; Rabban Gamaliel says: ‘On the seventh of that month, fifteen days after the feast of Tabernacles, so that even the tardiest Israelite may reach the Euphrates [on the return journey from the pilgrimage to Jerusalem].’” The Talmud (Ta’anit 10a) records Rabbi Eleazar as stating that the law follows Rabban Gamaliel. Despite the fact that the pilgrimage on Sukkot is no longer binding, and modern methods of transportation obviate the need to wait two weeks for the pilgrims to return home, the practice has remained constant: in the Land of Israel, she’elat geshamim (the prayer for rain) begins on the eve of the seventh of Marheshvan.

The same Talmudic passage records that, in the Golah, the practice was to wait “until the sixtieth [day] of the [autumnal] equinox (ad shishim ba-tequfah)” before beginning the prayer. No explanation is given for this difference between Israel and Babylonia, but there are good reasons to believe that it has to do with the meteorological and agricultural differences between the countries. Jews in Babylonia did not need, nor did they want, the winter rains to begin until two thirds of the autumn season had passed; therefore, they waited longer before beginning the prayer. Both communities, however, began “mentioning” rain (mashiv ha-ruah) on Shemini Atzeret, and they ceased mentioning rain and saying the special prayer for rain at Passover.[1]

What about Jews in other countries? Should Jews in these areas pray for rain according to the needs of their own country of residence, as did Jews in the Land of Israel and in Babylonia, or should they employ an already established schedule? Since Babylonian procedures were usually followed in the whole Diaspora, it became the practice of Jews almost everywhere outside the Land of Israel to offer their prayers for rain on the same dates as did their Babylonian coreligionists.[2]

This generalization did not go unchallenged, and the most noteworthy attempt to alter the practice was made by Rabbeinu Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh, c. 1250-1328). He tried to establish the principle that each Jewish community would pray for rain when they actually needed it in their country; this attempt was rebuffed by his contemporaries. The Rosh’s failure to innovate a change in the practice, no matter how sensible it might have seemed, was a major reason why no one in the northern hemisphere ever again challenged the prevailing practice. Questions did arise, however, when Jews migrated to areas in the southern hemisphere, when the order of the seasons is reversed. Rabbinic opinion has usually held that the Babylonian pattern should be followed even when the local winter occurs during summer in Babylonia and vice versa. The result is that to this day, Jews throughout the Diaspora set their liturgical calendar in this regard according to the agricultural needs of Iraq, a country which is now almost devoid of Jews.[3]

On most years…

But why December 4? The Talmud says “the sixtieth day of the autumnal equinox,” and the autumnal equinox this year fell on September 23, 2007, at 5:51 AM, on the American eastern seaboard, making the sixtieth day on November 21.[4] The answer to this question is to be found in a miscalculation of the length of the year. Present-day astronomers calculate the mean solar year to be 365.2422 days (365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds). This is slightly shorter than the 365.25 days (365 days, 6 hours) assumed by Samuel, the third century amora and astronomer, who gave the rules for calculating the equinoxes and solstices (Eruvin 56a). This is the same assumption which is at the basis of the Julian calendar as well.

The discrepancy between the assumed length of the year and actual length may not seem like much; it is only .0078 days (11 minutes, 14 seconds) a year. Yet, over a period of a thousand years, a difference of 7.8 days (1000 x .0078) exists between a system based on assumed length (the Julian calendar or Samuel’s tequfot) and one based on actual length. It is this difference which led the Catholic Church under Pope Gregory XIII to correct the Julian calendar by dropping 10 days in 1582 (the day after Thursday, October 4 became Friday, October 15), thus creating the Gregorian calendar. To prevent further problems, three leap years were eliminated every 400 years, so that only century years divisible by 400 were leap years. This system, which eventually caught on in the whole world, is not perfect, since in 3300 years another one day discrepancy accumulates.

In Samuel’s calculation, however, there are exactly 365 ¼ days in a year, and each tequfah (solstice or equinox) lasts exactly 91 days and 7 ½ hours (despite the disparate lengths of the various seasons). One autumnal equinox (tequfat tishrei) falls exactly 365 ¼ days after the previous one. Samuel’s calculation has kept in step with the Julian calendar throughout the centuries, and, therefore, just as in Samuel’s time tequfat tishrei fell on the Julian September 24, so, too, today it invariably falls on that date. In this century, however, the Julian September 24 is the Gregorian October 7. The sixtieth day after October 7 is December 5, and one generally begins saying tal u-matar in the Maariv before December 5, namely on December 4.

… but this year.

So why is this year different from all other years, or at least the last three years? This is a function of the exact hour when the equinox falls. Although it is always on October 7, in a four year cycle the tequfah will come at 03:00, 09:00, 15:00 and 21:00 (check your synagogue luah for the times). The fourth year is always a Hebrew year divisible by four (5768), or the year before a civil leap year (2008); in that year, tequfat tishrei is after dark (21:00) and, therefore, it is considered the next day (October 8). Fifty-nine days later is December 6 and tal u-matar begins in Maariv of December 5. Since the coming civil year adds an additional day, next year’s calculated autumnal equinox will again fall on October 7 at 03:00, and tal u-matar will again begin in Maariv of December 4. In the nineteenth century, the prayer for rain began in Maariv of December 3 or 4; since 1900 was not a leap year, it jumped to December 4 or 5 in the twentieth century. 2100 will also not be a leap year, and in the twenty-second century, tal u-matar will begin in Maariv of December 5 or 6. Given enough time, and no calendrical reform, eventually Jews outside Israel will start praying for rain only on the eve of Passover, just in time to stop this prayer when Passover begins.[5]

A few observations can be added to this description of the beginning time of the prayer for rain in the Diaspora. First, the same miscalculation which causes the “sixtieth day of the autumnal equinox” to move forward vis-à-vis the sun is at the base of another Jewish ritual, the once in 28 years “Blessing of the Sun” (Birkat ha-Hammah), scheduled to occur again in one year and five months on Wednesday, April 8, 2009 (coincidentally, fourteenth of Nisan, the eve of Passover; the last time was on Wednesday, April 8, 1981). In the nineteenth century, the Blessing of the Sun occurred on Wednesday, April 7, every 28 years; in the twenty-second century it will be on Wednesday, April 9, every 28 years. Despite the fact that the Blessing commemorates the cyclical repetition of the first vernal equinox at creation, it now falls 18 days after the actual astronomical equinox.

Furthermore, it is clear from the sources that each Jewish community is actually praying for rain for its own needs, and not for rain in the Land of Israel. Nevertheless, many Jews, even relatively knowledgeable ones, think that adding tal u-matar to the prayers on December 5 marks the beginning of the rainy season in Israel, not realizing that she’elat geshamim had already begun in Israel on the seventh of Marheshvan. Perhaps one of the sources of this widespread misconception is the fact that the astronomical sixtieth day of the equinox has meaning only for Iraq, if even there, and the calculated sixtieth day has no meaning anywhere. Thus, when Jews in the Diaspora start praying for rain on December 4, they mistakenly think that they are doing so for the residents of the Land of Israel.

Perhaps their prayers are still valuable. From my experience, often November is a dry month in Israel, and the winds pick up and the rain starts falling only in the first week of December. The sages tell us that the reason Israel has distinct wet and dry seasons and is so dependent upon rainfall (as compared to Egypt; cf. Deut. 11:10-12) is that God delights in hearing the prayers of the righteous who turn to Him in supplication for rain. Perhaps, the beginning of serious rain in the Land of Israel at the beginning of December, just as the prayer for rain starts in the Diaspora, is a sign that God actually delights in the prayers of the ignoramuses, who believe that their supplications for rain at that time are directed for the good of the Jews in the Land of Israel, not realizing that their prayers should be intended to bring rain to their own countries of residence. Whatever the case, we wish along with the High Priest on Yom Kippur that this year in Israel will, indeed, be very wet and not too cold, and that the rain will be only for a blessing!

Notes:
[1] For a discussion of the Babylonian custom, and the reasons behind it, see Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Jewish Prayer for Rain in Babylonia,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period 15 (1984): 124-144.
[2] In the words of the commentary attributed to Rashi on Ta’anit 10a: “Thus we act since all our customs follow the Babylonians (kol minhageinu ahar benei bavel).”
[3] For a fuller description of the long process described in these few sentences, see Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Jewish Prayer for Rain in the Post-Talmudic Diaspora,” AJS Review 9:2 (Fall 1984): 141-174.
[4] The equinoxes and solstices fall at the same instant all around the world, so in Israel, the autumnal equinox was at 12:51 PM; in Hawaii, at 12:51 AM; all times are daylight savings times.
[5] Details can be found in Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Strange Case of December 4: A Liturgical Problem,” Conservative Judaism 38:1 (Fall 1985): 91-99.




The Aderet (part 2); Sonya Diskin and R. Yitzhak Yeruham Diskin; Zvi Glatt; and a New Letter from R. Herzog

The Aderet (part 2); Sonya Diskin and R. Yitzhak Yeruham Diskin; Zvi Glatt; and a New Letter from R. Herzog

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here

1. Regarding R. Kook and the Aderet (R. Eliyahu Rabinowitz-Teomim), we find that R. Kook omitted something that the Aderet wrote. I don’t know if, strictly speaking, we can call this censorship, but R. Kook definitely omitted something that he was not comfortable with. Here is the Aderet speaking about himself in Nefesh David, p. 113, published by a leading student of R. Kook, R. Moshe Zvi Neriah (and printed together with the Aderet’s autobiography, Seder Eliyahu.[1a]).

Look at the second paragraph of section 5 and section 6. The Aderet first speaks of his great love for Torah scholars. In the next paragraph, the first one of section 6, he speaks of his hatred for sinners. Finally, in the second paragraph of section 6, he says that he has no ill feelings toward non-Jews who do not hate Jews, and that he only hates those whom the Sages commanded us to hate.

Now, look at R. Kook’s Eder ha-Yekar, published in 1906, beginning with the last line on p. 71 and continuing to the end of the paragraph on p. 72.

 

If you compare this to Nefesh David, sections 5-6, you will find that R. Kook leaves out the three paragraphs I mention above. I can see why he would leave out the second paragraph, about sinners, as it would not be in line with his own understanding of the irreligious in the Land of Israel. But why also leave out the first and third paragraphs? The only explanation I can think of is that he figured that by removing the entire section—where the Aderet speaks of his love for Torah scholars, hatred for sinners, and his lack of negative feelings toward non-Jews—this would not be regarded as censorship, as he is removing the whole section, even the non-objectionable parts. If anyone has a better idea, I would love to hear it.

Speaking of the Aderet and censorship, see the article by Yaakov Fuchs here which shows how the Aderet’s strong criticism of the Rogochover was censored. Fuchs has also found that when the Aderet’s book Shema Eliyahu was published (under the title Over Orah [Jerusalem, 2003]) there was also censorship of the Aderet’s negative judgment of the Rogochover, whom he saw as disrespecting great sages of the past. The original manuscript of the Aderet can be seen here, and below is a transcription of the missing passages as prepared by Fuchs, which can be compared with the censored version that appears in Over Orah, pp. 43-44.

The Aderet’s words are very sharp and align with how he spoke about other rabbis whom, for one reason or another, he had a negative view of. Regarding the Rogochover, while recognizing his unbelievable knowledge, the Aderet could not accept what he saw as the Rogochover’s disregard for the accepted conventions of halakhic procedure and his disrespect for prior sages. He goes so far as to state that if we lived in a time of great rabbis—rabbis who had real authority—they would not allow the Rogochover to issue halakhic rulings.

Eliezer Brodt called my attention to another sharp comment by the Aderet against the Rogochover, found in Shmuel Kol, Ehad be-Doro, vol. 1, p. 202. Brodt also noted that this was censored when reprinted in a footnote in the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition of the Aderet’s Seder Eliyahu, p. 122, and the Rogochover’s name was omitted when the passage was included in an article in Etz Hayyim 19 (5773), p. 55.

The Aderet, who was older than the Rogochover, can be forgiven for speaking the way he did, and he was not the only contemporary of the Rogochover who had these feelings.[1b] But just as we can find negative statements by great rabbis about other rabbis who were their contemporaries, and now we can see how misguided these negative statements were,[2] I think it is the same with regard to the Aderet and the Rogochover. The rabbis of the generation after the Aderet all related to the Rogochover with enormous respect, even if they did not accept his halakhic rulings.

Regarding the Aderet’s book Shema Eliyahu, one thing that was not censored when it was published appears on p. 223, and I thank Yosef Ginsberg for calling it to my attention.

We see that the Aderet and his interlocutor, R. Getzel Horowitz, assumed that the concept of Tikkunei Soferim is to be taken literally, meaning that the text of the Torah was changed from its original version given to Moses. The Aderet suggests that the Tikkunei Soferim are actually halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai.

For more concerning the Aderet and censorship, or rather non-censorship, I must recall my very first post on the Seforim Blog, from January 25, 2007, found here. It is titled “Uncensored Books”. I provide two examples where I state that had the publishers known who was being spoken of, they would have censored the text. Regarding the Aderet, I wrote as follows:

Recently many books by the Gaon R. Eliyahu Rabinowitz-Teomim (the Aderet) have appeared, by publishers with very different hashkafot. The volume of teshuvotMa’aneh Eliyahu, was published by Yeshivat Or Etzion in Israel, whose Rosh Yeshivah is R. Hayyim Druckman. It is obvious that the editors have no knowledge of American Jewish history, otherwise, the words I quote (from p. 352) would never have been allowed to appear. The editors no doubt assumed that the Aderet was attacking some phony. The name Jacob Joseph [called Jacob Harif by the Aderet] means nothing to them.

וידענו היטב היטב את האיש ואת שיחו תהלוכותוי ותחבולותיו מתחילה ועד סוף . . . ואותו הרב ה’ יעקב, שלא שמש תלמידי, חכמים ומלך מעצמו, ע”פ תבונתו כי פקח גדול הוא אינו מגיע לקרסולי תלמידי תלמידיו של הגאון חתם סופר ז”ל, לא בתורה ולא במעשים טובים, והרי לפנינו שעזב עיר ווילנא תפארת ליטא, והלך לנוע אל ארצות אמעריקא להיות שם רב ראשון בנויארק כחלומו אשר חלם. והרואה דברי הר”מ פ”ו ה”א מדיעות, יעוי’ שם היטב בלשונו, יראה עד כמה מלאה לבו יראת שמים לעשות כן

He goes on demeaning the Chief Rabbi of New York, but you get the picture.[3]

Ad kan what I wrote in the post. After the post’s appearance it was pointed out to me that the index to Ma’aneh Eliyahu properly identifies R. Jacob Joseph (Harif). So perhaps I was mistaken, or it is also possible that the people who put the sefer together did not know who R. Jacob Joseph was, and the person who put together the index was someone else entirely.

Returning to haskamot, let me mention another interesting point. Someone recently sent me a picture of a haskamah to the newly published book by the late R. Dov Yaffe, Ha-Va’adim shel Motzaei Shabbat.

What makes the haskamah (mikhtav berakhah) so significant is that it is by a woman, namely, his widow. I was also surprised that she is identified by her first name, something not always seen in haredi circles in Israel.

This is actually not the first published letter of this sort by a woman. R. Yehoshua Zev Zissenwein’s Tzir Ne’eman was published in Jerusalem at the end of the nineteenth century.[4]

After a group of haskamot from a wide range of rabbis whom he got to know in his work as a meshulah (including R. Jacob Joseph and R. Hillel Klein of New York and R. Abraham Abba Werner of London), comes what is called Mikhtevei Tehillah. This is a list of people who signed up to receive the book and positive comments they made. On the last page the names of three women are given, including Sonya (Sarah) Diskin,[5] the widow of R. Joshua Leib Diskin.[6]

Sonya Diskin was a very influential person in the Old Yishuv community of Jerusalem, because she had a great deal of influence on her husband. After her passing, the following letter appeared in Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s newspaper Hashkafah,[7] signed by someone who called himself a student of the Brisker Rebbetzin (i.e., Sonya Diskin, whose husband was rav of Brisk before moving to Jerusalem).[8]

There is a lengthy and fascinating Wikipedia entry on Sonya Diskin here, from which I learned that her marriage to R. Diskin, which was a second marriage for both and did not produce any children, even made its way into an Agnon story. For other stories told about her, see Yitzchak’s Seforim Blog post here, and the כבר היה לעולמים blog here. You can definitely say she “made it”, as she had a pashkevil directed against her in Jerusalem, which I am certain makes her the first woman to be given this honor. Also of note is that the pashkevil dates from when her husband was still alive. (In later years, Golda Meir and Aliza Bloch, the mayor of Beit Shemesh, also had paskevilim directed at them.)

The pashkevil is found in Binyamin Kluger, Min ha-Makor, vol. 3, p. 46, and in what it regards as fake piety, it refers to how Sonya Diskin wore tzitzit and that she put socks on her cat, so that the cat would not move crumbs of hametz from room to room. (Elsewhere it is reported that she did this on Passover and her fear was that the cat would bring in hametz from the street on its feet.[9] According to Pesahim 9a we need not be concerned for this.) Regarding Passover, it is also reported that Sonya Diskin told her husband, after he scolded her for her humrot, “If I rely on you and your Shulhan Arukh, we’ll be eating chametz on Passover.”[10]

The latter story is very similar to a story told about Mrs. Tonya Soloveitchik, the wife of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. The way I heard the story, in the name of Prof. Haym Soloveitchik, is that when Mrs. Soloveitchik came home from the hospital and saw milk and meat plates in the sink, she started rebuking her husband. The Rav defended himself: “According to the Shulhan Arukh, this is OK.” To this, Mrs. Soloveitchik replied: “Your Shulhan Arukh is going to treif up my kitchen.”

After seeing what Sonya Diskin told her husband, I found it too much of a coincidence that two great rebbitzens would have expressed themselves in the same fashion. I turned to Prof. Soloveitchik, presented him the story with his mother as I heard it, and asked if it is true. He replied as follows: “The story is half-true. My mother said: ‘You are making my kitchen treif.’ My father said nothing and neither did I. People have prettied-up the story by fusing it with the well-known story of Sonya the rebbetzin, the wife of R. Yehoshua Leib Diskin.”

There is another Passover story told about Sonya and her husband: R. Diskin saw Sonya working very hard to clean the house of hametz. Exasperated, he jokingly said to her that the only hametz in the house is her. To this, she replied bitingly: “Don’t worry about me. A long time ago my father sold me to a goy [i.e., R. Diskin].”[11] This is actually an old Yiddish joke, see here, that was apocryphally connected to Sonya.

Returning to Zissenwein’s book, the introduction is noteworthy as it reveals that Zissenwein was one of the founders of the early settlement Yesud ha-Ma’ala, and that this was done at the direction of R. Diskin.

Regarding R. Diskin, it is notable that R. Jacob Moses Harlap wrote to R. Kook about a dream he had in which R. Diskin requested that R. Harlap ask R. Kook not to hold anything against his son, R. Yitzhak Yeruham, and not to degrade him. R. Diskin explained that his son is his only child, and his mistake did not come from a bad place.[12] What this alludes to is that R. Yitzhak Yeruham was opposed to R. Kook being appointed rav of Jerusalem. In fact, there is a letter from R. Zvi Pesah Frank to R. Kook explaining that R. Yitzhak Yeruham wanted to be appointed rav himself, and he was upset with R. Frank for not supporting him in this matter.[13] (R. Frank was a big backer of R. Kook.[14])

Innocent mistake or not, in later years, R. Yitzhak Yeruham, together with R. Joseph Hayyim Sonnefeld, would give cover to those who continuously degraded R. Kook in the most objectionable ways imaginable. Yet for the sake of the Yishuv in Eretz Yisrael, R. Kook told R. Diskin and R. Sonnenfeld that he forgave everyone who attacked him and wanted to work together with R. Diskin and R. Sonnenfeld. Here is his open letter in Iggerot ha-Re’iyah, vol. 4, no. 274, where he is very direct in telling R. Yitzhak Yeruham and R. Sonnenfeld that they have not behaved in a manner befitting Torah scholars.

 

 

See also this letter in Iggerot ha-Re’iyah, vol. 4, no. 201, where R. Kook mentions that R. Yitzhak wanted to be appointed rav of Jerusalem, and that out of respect for him and his late father, R. Diskin, R. Kook delayed accepting the offer to become rav of Jerusalem.

 

Regarding R. Yitzhak Yeruham, it is worth noting that when he was still in Europe, he was regarded as a very modern person who dressed in European fashion, knew French, and valued secular studies. It is even reported that he identified as a Zionist. This all changed when he came to Eretz Yisrael.[15]

Since this post has dealt with the Aderet as well as various women, it is a good place to note that R. Baruch Epstein mentions that the sister of the Aderet was quite learned and that a comment of hers was published in the Odessa Torah journal Yagdil Torah.[16] I searched Yagdil Torah on Otzar ha-Hokhmah but could not find what Epstein referenced. I thank Eliezer Brodt for solving this mystery, as he called my attention to where the Aderet mentions his sister, in Yagdil Torah, vol. 9, no. 128. This issue is not found on Otzar ha-Hokhmah, and must be what Epstein was referring to.

Brodt also mentioned to me that in his Zekhor le-David, pp. 69-71, the Aderet has a list of learned women mentioned in rabbinic literature.

2. In the prior post I mentioned that, while studying in Israel, the first sefer I read was written by R. Moshe Zuriel. Not that anyone is wondering, but the second book I read was Zvi Glatt’s posthumously published Me-Afar Kumi.

This book focuses on the importance of living in Eretz Yisrael and is divided into halakhic and aggadic sections. For those who don’t know, Glatt, who was a student at Merkaz ha-Rav, was killed in a terrorist attack in Chevron. Of particular interest is the chapter where Glatt takes issue with R. Moshe Feinstein’s position that living in Israel is a mitzvah kiyumit rather than an obligatory mitzvah. R. Moshe wrote a haskamah to Me-Afar Kumi and responds to Glatt’s discussion, stating that he thinks that Glatt went too far (הפריז על המדה) and that he sees no reason to retract his view.

Also of note are the approbations from R. Avraham Shapiro and R. Shaul Yisraeli, roshei yeshiva at Merkaz ha-Rav. R. Yisraeli notes that Glatt, who could have studied at great yeshivot in the U.S., chose to come to Israel. Glatt could not understand why religious Jews in the Diaspora, by and large, choose to ignore the very important mitzvah of settling the Land of Israel, and it was this focus on Eretz Yisrael that led him to write the sefer.

From a halakhic perspective, the most important aspect of the sefer is the appendix by R. Avraham Shapiro, in which he takes issue with R. Moshe’s opinion. According to R. Shapiro, when it comes to mitzvot mentioned in the Torah, there is no concept of a mitzvah kiyumit as advocated by R. Moshe (namely, that there is no obligation to live in Eretz Yisrael, but if you do, you fulfill a mitzvah and receive reward). Some have compared R. Moshe’s view to the wearing of tzitzit, where there is no obligation to wear them unless you choose to wear a four-cornered garment. Yet R. Shapiro states that tzitzit is absolutely a mitzvah hiyuvit (an obligatory mitzvah). True, one can choose whether to wear a four-cornered garment, but once one puts it on, tzitzit is now an obligation. My question to the learned readers is: Is R. Shapiro correct in saying that there is no concept of a mitzvah kiyumit about one of the 613 mitzvot? Isn’t shehitah an example of a mitzvah kiyumit? You don’t have to eat meat, but if you choose to, you can fulfill the mitzvah of shehitah. Furthermore, in criticizing R. Moshe’s position, R. Shapiro refers to the mitzvah of living in Eretz Yisrael as one of the 613 mitzvot, which makes the concept of it being a mitzvah kiyumit problematic. Yet there is no reason to think that R. Moshe regarded living in Eretz Yisrael as one of the 613 mitzvot, and that is precisely why it could be regarded as a mitzvah kiyumit.

It appears that the Vilna Gaon has the concept of mitzvah kiyumit in mind when he speaks of eating matzah on all days of Passover as a mitzvah but not an obligation, as only on the first night is there an obligation. It seems that he regards the eating of matzah after the first night as a mitzvah kiyumit. Here is how his view is described in Ma’aseh Rav, no. 185:

“שבעת ימים תאכל מצות”, כל שבעה מצוה, ואינו קורא לה רשות אלא לגבי לילה ראשונה שהיא חובה, ומצוה לגבי חובה רשות קרי לה. אעפ”כ מצוה מדאורייתא הוא

Hizkuni makes a similar point in his commentary to Ex. 12:18:

יש לך דברים שמקבלין שכר בעשייתן ועונש כשאין עושין אותן, כגון מצה בלילה הראשון, ויש לך דברים שאין מקבלין שכר בעשייתן ועונש כשאין עושין אותן, כגון מצה מליל ראשון ואילך, ומ”מ מצות תאכלו שבעת ימים כתיב, כלומר אם אכל מצה כל שבעת הימים מכל מקום קיים הוא הפסוק זה של: שבעת ימים מצות תאכלו

3. In my new book on Rav Kook, available here, I discuss how R. Isaac Herzog struggles with the conflict between the biblical record of how long humanity has been on earth and the historical record accepted in the academic world. I cite several of his letters on this topic, in which he suggests that it could be that the Torah’s “history” at the beginning of Genesis is not meant to be regarded as factual.

Only after the book was already near publication did I find another letter from R. Herzog on this very issue, which I share with you now.[17]

The original letter, which R. Herzog would have signed, was sent to R. Zev Gold and is dated December 30, 1952. R. Herzog made copies of the letter, which he must have also distributed, and that is how it made its way to R. Moshe Zvi Neriah, where I found it among his papers.

R. Herzog focuses on his often-discussed—but never realized—plan to write a modernGuide of the Perplexed, addressing new intellectual problems that have arisen for traditional Jews. Without a proper response to these issues, people might be led to deny the doctrine of Torah from heaven. R. Herzog tells R. Gold that his approach in dealing with conflicts between what appears in the Torah and the historical record as established in the academic world is based on two principles:

  1. The Torah speaks in the language of man. What this means is that the Torah can describe matters in the way they were generally understood by people at the time the Torah was given, even if this is not strictly factual. In Renewing the Old, Sanctifying the New, I cite a letter from R. Herzog to Aron Barth where he makes the same point.
  2. Maimonides’ statement in Guide for the Perplexed 2:25, where he asserts that he would be able to explain the Torah in accord with the doctrine of the eternity of the world, should this idea be proven.[18] In other words, if there is a proven fact in contradiction to the Torah’s simple meaning, then the Torah needs to be reinterpreted.

R. Herzog tells us that the most pressing intellectual challenge to Jewish traditional faith comes from archaeology. So, for instance, if we know from archaeology that there were communities of humans 10,000 or 100,000 years ago, and this is a fact—not just a theory—then, in line with Maimonides’ guidance, we would have to reinterpret the Torah’s chronology which puts humanity on earth for under 6000 years. While in R. Herzog’s time, people in the religious world were focused on the scientific view of a universe billions of years old versus the Torah’s record of when creation occurred, or what to do with dinosaurs that predate the Torah’s account of creation, R. Herzog was focused on a more problematic matter which, for some reason, did not get the same attention: If the historical record shows that people have been living continuously all over the world for a lot longer than 6000 years, what are we to do with the biblical record that places humanity in the world for less than 6000 years? What are we to make of the biblical idea that everyone is descended from Adam and Eve, and also descended from Noah? How are we to understand the stories of the Flood and Tower of Babel?

These are issues that cannot be answered with the famous Midrash that God created worlds and destroyed them, because R. Herzog is concerned with the current world and how long humanity has been part of it. He recognizes that there are passages in the Torah that might need to be reinterpreted in a non-literal fashion. What he is struggling with is what the religious boundaries are, beyond which one cannot go. In other words, when can you interpret the Torah in a non-literal fashion, and when not? Or, to put the matter differently, beginning with which chapter in Genesis must we assume that the Torah is speaking historically and, therefore, non-literal interpretation is not permitted? This was to be a major focus in R. Herzog’s planned work, which, to our great misfortune, was never authored.

He adds that philosophy will also have to be a part of this book. Knowing that this was not one of his many areas of specialty, he points to R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik as the only person in the generation who could make a vital contribution to his project from the philosophical side. While R. Herzog would focus on the historical problems I have just mentioned, R. Soloveitchik would provide a Jewish response to philosophical challenges.

2. In the last post I noted how the Chafetz Chaim wondered how he could eat at inns if the owners did not tovel their dishes. He did not question the kashrut of the food, and we see both then, and today, that one can be regarded as strict in matters of kashrut while not toveling one’s dishes, which for some reason has not always been regarded by all as an important halakhah.[19] We also find regarding other halakhic matters that people who are strict in one sphere do not necessarily lose their halakhic reliability if in a different area their halakhic observance leaves something to be desired.[20]

Based on this notion, we can understand the following 1955 letter from R. David Grunwald, rav of Santiago, to R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg.[21]

R. Grunwald wanted to know whether one can rely on the kashrut of the owner of an inn if the man also serves non-kosher wine to the guests. Today, people would find the question incomprehensible, but it wasn’t that long ago when many otherwise observant Jews were not careful about kosher wine.[22] It is also important to note that R. Grunwald was referring to the old type of inns where people ate there because they trusted the kashrut of the owner. These establishments did not have any official hashgachah.

R. Grunwald refers to a famous responsum of R. Akiva Eiger, no. 96, where R. Eiger notes that Jews who shave with a razor are still able to be accepted as witnesses in a beit din. This is because shaving with a razor was so common in the Orthodox world, that people who did so did not realize how serious the prohibition is.

י”ל דהשחתה בתער דנתפשט בעו”ה אצל הרבה לא חשב שזהו איסור כ”כ דלא משמע להו לאינשי דאסור, וכאשר באמת נזכר בג”ע דהשיב להמוכיח שהרבה אנשים חשובים עושים כן, וכיון דבאמת פשתה המספחת בזמנינו גם לאותן הנזהרים בשאר דברים נדמה להם דאינו איסור כ”כ

If R. Eiger adopted this approach with the Torah prohibition of shaving with a razor, all the more so, R. Grunwald suggests, that it should apply to the rabbinic prohibition of non-kosher wine. This would mean that religious Jews could stay at the inn in question, enjoy the food, and simply avoid the non-kosher wine. Yet not willing to make this decision on his own. R. Grunwald turned to R. Weinberg, and unfortunately we do not know if R. Weinberg replied.[23]

Related to R. Grunwald’s question, I was told that in its final years, Grossinger’s hotel offered non-kosher wine in the dining room. I don’t know if this was after R. Chavel’s passing in 1982. (The hotel continued until 1986). There used to be a restaurant in a major European city that was kosher, but the bar in the restaurant served non-kosher wine. The philosophy of the hashgachah (which was not a weak hashgachah) was that they are giving a hashgachah on the food. What happens at the bar is not their concern, and if someone brings a glass of non-kosher wine to the table that also is not their concern. This is not something that would ever be allowed by mainstream hashgachot in America, but in places without large observant Jewish populations, sometimes the rabbis feel they have to adopt a different approach in order to enable a kosher restaurant to be viable. Some years ago, there was a kosher Indian restaurant under the hashgachah of the late R. Yaakov Spivak. This restaurant allowed people to bring their own bottles of wine (maybe because it didn’t have a liquor license and thus couldn’t provide kosher wine). I asked R. Spivak why he allowed this, and he replied simply that there is no halakhic issue if people bring their own non-kosher wine. Again, this is not something that a mainstream U.S. hashgachah would allow.

Returning to the Aderet’s report of the Chafetz Chaim asking about eating in kosher inns where the dishes were not toveled, when I read that I thought of something similar. In the past, I have written about various kosher establishments that were not under hashgachah, but people ate there because they trusted the owners. Perhaps the most famous of these places was Sam Schechter’s and Leo Gartenberg’s Pioneer Country Club in Greenfield, N.Y. The kashrut there was trusted by all, and Agudath Israel held its annual conventions there. Here is a picture I published some years ago.[24]

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

Regarding the Pioneer Country Club, I think the younger readers will have a hard time understanding not only how even the most religious would stay at a hotel without a hashgachah, but the Pioneer also had mixed swimming and evening entertainment, including mixed dancing and women singers. (I wonder if out of respect, these things did not take place during the Agudah conventions.) It was a different era and people of different religious levels were happy to stay together in one resort.[25] I am sure many readers from my generation and older remember Grossinger’s which was the same sort of place, although, as mentioned, Grossinger’s was under R. Chavel’s hashgachah.

I bring all this up because of a fascinating tape of R. Fabian Schonfeld discussing R. Aharon Kotler available here. At minute 22:25 he tells how R. Aharon was at the Torah u-Mesorah convention which was held at the Pioneer. R. Aharon learned that the kitchen was not careful with having a Jew light the pilot light. R. Aharon explained to Gartenberg what the halakhah required in this matter. and he trusted Gartenberg that from that point on there would be no bishul akum issues. Today, such a scene would be unimaginable, as the mashgiach would be careful about this matter, but as mentioned already, we are talking about a different era.

I wonder if the general practice among Orthodox Jews in America in those days was to rely on either the view of R. Abraham ben David that there is no bishul akum when a non-Jew cooks in a Jew’s home, or the view held by others that there is no bishul akum with hired help.[26] According to R. Moses Isserles, although the halakhah is not in accord with R. Abraham ben David’s view, bediavad, food cooked by a non-Jew in a Jew’s home can be eaten. He then adds the following which might explain how a more lenient approach to bishul akum developed than what is standard today:

ואפילו לכתחלה נוהגין להקל בבית ישראל שהשפחות והעבדים מבשלים בבית ישראל כי אי אפשר שלא יחתה אחד מבני הבית מעט

See also here where R. Schonfeld recollects about the early history of Jewish Kew Gardens Hills. He recounts that the only halakhically reliable kosher butcher was the Main Street Kosher Meat Market owned by Mr. Herman. This was not under hashgachah, but since, R. Schonfeld tells us, Mr. Herman was known as a pious Jew, “this was the only one [butcher] at that time that we could tell people you can buy [from]”

* * * * * * *

[1a] Regarding censorship of Seder Eliyahu, see Dan’s earlier post here and also the discussion here.
[1b] See R. Raphael Mordechai Barishansky, Mikhtavim Mehutavim, pp. 167ff., where he responds to the Rogochover’s demeaning comment about the Vilna Gaon. I published the Rogochover’s interview, which so upset Barishansky, in the Jewish Review of Books, Summer 2017, available here.
[2] Readers will probably be thinking about how great rabbis spoke of the early hasidic leaders, R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto, and R. Jonathan Eybschuetz. Another example is how great rabbis spoke about the leaders of the Mussar movement. My 19-part series on the Mussar Dispute is available on youtube here.
[3] Interestingly, in R. Jacob Joseph’s haskamah to R. Shalom Israelson, Neveh Shalom (Chicago, 1905), he refers to the Aderet as his friend. This point is also mentioned here.
[4] The first title page has the year 1897, but the second title page has 1898. Rabbi Mendel Moinster’s haskamah is dated Nov. 28, 1898, so it is possible that the book was only published in 1899.
[5] Regarding her, see most recently Menachem Keren-Kratz and Motti Inbari, “The Sociological Model of Haredi Rebbetzins: ‘Two-Person Single Career’ vs. ‘Parallel-Life Family,’” AJS Review 46 (2022), pp. 270-290.
[6] I have not been able to determine when the name “Moses” was added to his first names.
[7] Nov. 2, 1906, p. 3 (Issue 8:10). See also the eulogy for her in Hashkafah, Oct. 19, 1906, pp. 2-3 (Issue 8:6). There is something very unusual about this paper. Here is the first page of the November 2, 1906, issue.

Look at the date: 14 Heshvan 1838. Rather than using the date from Creation, Ben Yehuda used the years since the destruction of the Temple, which he assumed to be the year 68.
[8] In this regard, I would like to call attention to another interesting reference to a woman that I learned about from R. Dov Katz, Tenuat ha-Mussar, vol. 2, pp. 107–108. In 1938, R. Moshe Rosenstein, the mashgiach of the Lomza Yeshiva, published the second volume of his work Yesodei ha-Da’at. In the introduction, he mentions three teachers to whom he owes so much: R. Zvi Braude, R. Yerucham Levovitz, and R. Shimon Shkop. He then refers to his fourth “teacher,” Nechama Liba, the daughter of R. Simhah Zissel of Kelm, describing her as a great student of her father and emphasizing how much he learned from her.

Such a description would never appear in haredi literature today. First of all, the very notion that a yeshiva leader mentions learning so many things from a woman—והרבה הרבה למדנו ממנה— would not be allowed to appear in print. Also, look at his description of how he observed her wisdom and piety:

והיה לי ההזדמנות להתבונן על דרכיה ומנהגיה ותהלוכתיה בחכמה ויראת ה’ ומעשיה הטובים

I believe that today such a description would be regarded as lacking in tzeniut, as it showed that he paid attention to the actions of a woman.
[9] See Margalit Shilo, Princess or Prisoner, trans. David Louvish (Waltham, 2005), p. 78, and here.
[10] Elimelekh Weissblum, Havai Tzefat (Tel Aviv, 1969), p. 34, translated in Shilo, Princess or Prisoner, p. 78. See also here.
[11] See R. Michael Abraham’s post here. Regarding women cleaning for Passover, in a comment to Abraham’s post, a reader referred to the following fascinating passages in R. Moses Sofer’s responsa.

She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, vol. 1, Orah Hayyim, no. 136:

והיותי חוץ לחדר לימודי כי גרשוני נשים צדקניות המכבדים ליום טוב של פסח על כן לא יכולתי להאריך ככל הצורך

She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, vol. 6, no. 30:

יקרת מכתבו הגיעני בימים האלו ימי טלטולא דגברא דהני נשי דידן מפנים חפצים מזוית לזוית אפילו ספרים אינם מוכנים לי לעיין

[12] Harlap, Hed Harim (Elon Moreh, 1997), pp. 94-95.
[13] Kook, Iggerot ha-Re’iyah, vol. 3, p. 306.
[14] See R. Frank’s letter in R. Hayyim Hirschensohn, Malki ba-Kodesh, vol. 4, pp. 22-23, where he explains the situation in Jerusalem, and how the extremists controlled Rabbis Sonnenfeld and Yitzhak Yeruham Diskin.
[15] See Menahem Mendel Porush, Be-Tokh ha-Homot (Jerusalem, 1948), pp. 199ff., Or Hadash 17 (2012), pp. 68ff. R. Yitzhak Yeruham’s father, R. Diskin, was also more open-minded before he moved to Eretz Yisrael. See the valuable post by Zerachya Licht here and his earlier post here.
[16] Mekor Barukh, vol. 4, pp. 1957-1958.
[17] The letter is found in the Moshe Zvi Neriah Archive, Israel National Library, ARC.4*21300411.
[18] For my understanding of Maimonides, which diverges from that of R. Herzog and what seems to be the standard approach, see my Seforim Blog post here. I argue that Maimonides was only prepared to accept Plato’s view of eternal matter, but not Aristotle’s view of the eternity of the universe, though Maimonides acknowledges that the biblical verses can be read in accord with Aristotle’s approach.
[19] Perhaps there is a limud zekhut for these people in that the Rogochover held that utensils produced by non-Jews for commercial purposes do not require tevilah. See Tzafnat Paneah, Ma’akhalot Asurot 17:3 (called to my attention by Rabbi Sholom Berger). R. Abraham Price reacted with shock at this radical ruling which completely abolishes the whole concept of tevilat kelim in the modern world. See his edition of the Sefer Mitzvot Gadol, vol. 2, p. 444:

ונדהמתי לראות דברים כאלו כתובים מידי גאון אדיר, כי לפי דבריו בזמנינו בטל כל דין של טבילת כלים, שיש הרבה ראשונים הסוברים שהוא דאורייתא כדלעיל. שהרי כמעט כולנו קונים רק כלים הנעשים בבית תוצרות של נכרים ואין אחד מן רבבה שיקנה כלים ממה שהנכרי עשה בשביל עצמו. ודברים הנ”ל של הצ”פ הם כנגד דברי הש”ע וכנגד כל הראשונים

R. Price says that the Rogochover’s view is against “all therishonim.” Yet see R. Yehoshua Ben-Meir,Mi-Pekudekha Etbonen, pp. 276-277, who argues that the Rogochover’s view is also held by Rashi, Rashba, and Ritva.

See also R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot, vol 5, no. 110 (end), who mentions the Rogochover’s view and is not prepared to accept it. However, he raises the question about utensils that are produced by machine, and all the non-Jew does it touch a button. R. Klein think that it is possible that in such a case tevilah is not required, although he does not rule this way in practice.

Even as we continue to tovel dishes produced by non-Jews for commercial purposes and also by use of machine, I wonder if the doubts that have been raised mean that all toveling should be done without a berakhah. I have not seen any posek make this point.
[20] See R. Shmuel Khoshkerman’s responsum in Sefer Zikaron Penei Moshe, pp. 289ff., where he permits a man who is careful about Shabbat, kashrut and tefillah, but does not observe taharat ha-mishpahah, to serve as a kashrut mashgiach. Among the sources he cites is Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 2:7: מומר לערלות דינו כמומר לעבירה אחת

He also cites Yoreh Deah 119:7:

מי שהוא מפורסם בא’ מעבירות שבתורה חוץ מעבודת כוכבים וחלול שבת בפרהסיא או שאינו מאמין בדברי רבותינו ז”ל נאמן בשאר איסורים ובשל אחרים נאמן אפילו על אותו דבר לומר מותר הוא

He further cites R. Yitzhak Zilberstein, Hashukei Hemed, Bekhorot 30b, who thinks that someone who does not wash before eating bread is not to be disqualified from serving as a mashgiach. This is because his personal sins do not affect his feeling of responsibility to the community, and there is no reason to think that he would allow others to eat non-kosher just because he is not careful with netilat yadayim. R. Zilberstein does, however, cite his brother-in-law R. Chaim Kanievsky, who disagreed.

R. Khoshkerman explains his own lenient view:

והנה עינינו הרואות שהרבה אנשים זהירים בכשרות יותר מטהרת המשפחה, כיון שהוא יודע שאם הוא לא יהיה זהיר בכשרות הוא חוטא ומחטיא את הרבים, אבל בדיני טהרת המשפחה רק הוא חוטא. לפיכך נראה שיכולים לסמוך עליו. ועוד שאינם יודעים גודל חומרת האיסור של טהרת המשפחה, אבל על כשרות המטבח הם מקפידים, וכן על מצוות אחרות כגון שבת טלית ותפילין

R. Khoshkerman concludes:

המורם מכל האמור: שאדם שחשוד על טהרת המשפחה, אינו חשוד על כשרות, ולכן יכולים לסמוך עליו בתור משגיח כשרות. אבל רק בתנאי שהוא שומר מצוות אחרות כמו תפלה, טלית ותפילין ושבת, ורק על ענין טהרת המשפחה הוא עובר, או מפני שאינו יודע שזה דבר חמור, או מסיבות אחרות

R. Shalom Mordechai Schwadron, She’elot u-Teshuvot Maharsham, vol. 2, no. 62, already wrote as follows (and R. Khoshkerman will no doubt see this as support for his conclusion):

 די”ל שמ”מ לאינשי חמיר טפי איסורי מאכלות ועינינו רואות בכמה נשים שאין טובלות לנדתן ועוד כהנה ובכ”ז נזהרין מאיסורי מאכלות

I would also add that R. Moses Isserles’s words in Yoreh Deah 119:7 are relevant:

מי שהוא חשוד בדבר דלא משמע לאינשי שהוא עבירה לא מקרי חשוד

[21] The letter is found in Ganzach Kiddush ha-Shem in Bnei Brak.
[22] R. Aharon Rakeffet has often told about his shock in discovering, soon after being hired in 1961, that congregants at the Lower Merion Synagogue, his first rabbinic pulpit, drank non-kosher wine. He would have found the same thing at Modern Orthodox synagogues across the country. Rakeffet has also recorded his story in From Washington Avenue to Washington Street (Jerusalem, 2011), pp. 167-168. I discuss Jews drinking non-kosher wine in Changing the Immutable, and will return to it in a future post
[23] Jews shaving with a razor is also mentioned by R. Ezekiel Landau, Noda bi-Yehudah, Orah Hayyim Tinyana, no. 101, and R. Moses Sofer, She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim, no. 154: בעו”ה רבו המשחיתים בעם בתער

This was a such a problem among otherwise observant Jews in early twentieth-century America that R. Hayyim Hirschensohn tried to come up with a heter for shaving with the modern T-shaped razors. See Hiddushei Ha-Rav Hayyim Hirschensohn, vol. 3, no. 12. R. Hirschensohn’s position is discussed by R. Nachum Rabinovitch, Melumdei Milhamah, pp. 283-284.
[24] For stories of R. Moshe Feinstein and the Pioneer Country Club, see R. Yaakov Heftler (Leo Gartenberg’s son-in-law), “Zikhronot,” Kol ha-Torah 54 (2003), pp. 67ff. One story Hetfler describes is how his father passed away on the Shabbat of his aufruf, which took place at the Pioneer with some 250 guests in attendance. The wedding was supposed to be on Sunday. However, R. Moshe Feinstein, who was at the hotel in honor of the simhah, ruled that the funeral should be postponed to Monday and the wedding should take place on Sunday, when Heftler was an onen.

Here is the report about the wedding in Ha-Pardes, Tishrei 5720, p. 47.

[25] There was a well-known askan named Julius Steinfeld. You can read about him here. He did amazing things during the Holocaust and was responsible for saving thousands of Jews. I mention him here because he was very upset that the Agudah had their convention at the Pioneer and wrote a very sharp letter of protest. He even rejects the entire concept of a convention in which both men and women are in attendance.

[26] See Tosafot, Avodah Zarah 38a, s.v. Ela mi-de-Rabbanan, and the wide discussion of R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yehaveh Da’at, vol. 5, no. 54.




How many children did Michal have? Explanation of a Talmudic passage in light of the writings of Josephus Flavius

How many children did Michal have? Explanation of a Talmudic passage in light of the writings of Josephus Flavius[1]
 By Chaim Sunitsky
The following Talmudic passage appears in Sanhedrin 19b (we are using mostly Soncino translation):
R. Yossi was asked by his disciples: How could David marry two sisters while they were both living? He answered: He married Michal after the death of Meirav. R. Yehoshua ben Korha said: His marriage to Meirav was contracted in error, as it is said, Deliver me my wife Michal whom I betrothed unto me for a hundred foreskins of the Philistines. How does this prove it? — R. Papa answered: Because he said, My wife Michal but not ‘my wife Meirav’. Now, what was the error in his marriage [with Meirav]? [It was this:] It is written, And it shall be that the man who kills [Goliath], the king will enrich him with great riches and will give him his daughter. Now he [David] went and slew him, whereupon Shaul said to him: I owe you a debt, and if one betroths a woman by a debt, she is not betrothed. Accordingly he gave her to Adriel, as it is written, But it came to pass at the time when Meirav, Shaul’s daughter should have been given to David, that she was given to Adriel the Meholatite to wife. Then Shaul said to David, ‘If you still wish me to give you Michal to wife, go and bring me hundred foreskins of the Philistines.’ He went and brought them to him. Then he said: ‘You now have two claims on me, [the repayment of] a loan and a perutah’. Now, Shaul held
that when a loan and a perutah are offered [as kidushin], he [the would-be husband] thinks mainly of the loan; but in David’s view, when there is a loan and a perutah, the mind is set on the perutah. Or if you like, I will say, all agree that where a loan and a perutah [are offered], the mind is set on the perutah. Shaul, however, thought that [the hundred foreskins] had no value, while David held that they had value at least as food for dogs and cats. How does R. Yossi interpret the verse, Deliver me my wife Michal? He explains it by
another view of his. For it has been taught: R. Yossi used to interpret the following confused passage thus: It is written, But the king took the two sons of Rizpah the daughter of Ayah whom she bore to Shaul, Armoni and Mephiboshet, and the five sons of Michal, the daughter of Shaul, whom she bore to Adriel the son of Barzillai, the Meholatite etc. But was Michal really given to Adriel; was she not given to Palti the son of Layish, as it is written, Now Shaul had given Michal, David’s wife, to Palti the son of Layish . . .? But Scripture compares the marriage of Meirav to Adriel to that of Michal to Palti, to teach that just as the marriage of Michal to Palti was unlawful, so was that of Meirav to Adriel. Now as to R. Yehoshua ben Korha, surely it is written, And the five sons of Michal the daughter of Shaul whom she bore to Adriel. R. Yehoshua [b. Korha] answers thee: Was it then Michal who bore them? Surely it was rather Meirav who bore them! But Meirav bore and Michal brought them up, therefore they were called by her name. This teaches you that whoever brings up an orphan in his home, Scripture ascribes it to him as though he had begotten him.
The accepted understanding of this passage is that according to Rabbi Yossi David married Michal only after her sister had five children from Adriel and died. Michal later brought up the five children as her own. The commentators[2] ask how Meirav could possibly have five children within just two and a half years of Shaul’s reign and answer that she was pregnant with twins twice, and once with the fifth child.  However, according to the calculation of all the events that had to occur before David married Michal and after he ran away from Shaul, there is not enough time left for three pregnancies of Meirav[3]. We need to look for a simpler understanding of the Talmud.
The difficulty of the Gemara is with the following verse from the end of David’s life (Shmuel 2:21:8): “And the king [David] took two sons of Rizpah daughter of Ayah whom she bore to Shaul, Armoni and Mephiboshet, and the five sons of Michal, the daughter of Shaul, whom she bore to Adriel the son of Barzillai, the Meholatite …” Five children of Michal and Adriel are mentioned in this verse. All the commentators follow the explanation of our Gemara that the children were born to Meirav and Michal only raised them. But a careful reading seems to reveal that R. Yossi is not the one who holds that the five children were Meirav’s. This explanation is provided by the Gemara later according to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Karcha. If so, R. Yossi must hold that indeed Michal was the one to have the five children. Since David only took her back seven years after he became king, there was plenty of time for her to give birth to five children. But Michal was never married to Adriel, she was “married” to Palti. It’s important to understand what Rabbi Yossi is implying by his words “confused passage” (מקראות מעורבין literally mixed up verses). Apparently he means that while Michal married Palti, the verse is using the expression “married to Adriel” to teach us that the marriage of Michal to Palti was just as sinful as the marriage of Meirav to Adriel. Both marriages were based on an incorrect decision of Shaul and his Bet Din. David’s Kidushin with Meirav was declared invalid and his later Kidushin with Michal was declared invalid again[4]. Indeed Josephus Flavius (Antiquities 7:4:3) says that Michal had five children from Palti.
Now we can offer a simple understanding of the entire Talmudic passage. The students asked R. Yossi, how could David marry two sisters? They are obviously assuming that some form of Kidushin was involved when Shaul offered his (presumably older[5]) daughter to the one who kills Goliath[6]. If David was technically married to Meirav he could not marry Michal even if Meirav was incorrectly given to a different man. R. Yossi answered that Meirav died before David married Michal. R. Yehoshua ben Karcha however holds that there was no kosher Kidushin between David and Meirav. He learns it from the words in a verse: “my wife Michal”, meaning only Michal is my wife, Meirav is not. The Gemara goes into the technical explanation of why Michal’s Kidushin was valid and not Meirav’s according to R. Yehoshua ben Karcha. R. Yossi however only learns from this verse that Michal was David’s wife meaning her Kidushin was valid just as Meirav’s, and giving her to Palti was incorrect. He learns that the verse (Shmuel 2:21:8) describing David’s giving five children of Michal and Adriel to Givonim[7] were really Michal’s children from Palti and is using the expression “mixed up verses” to teach us that Michal’s Kidushin with David was valid just like Meirav’s was.[8] R. Yehoshua ben Karcha however says the verse in Shmuel 2:21:8 is not talking about Michal’s children but about Meirav’s children whom Michal raised. The Gemara goes on to give other examples where children raised by someone are considered like one’s own children.

 

[1] Note that this article does not claim to research the words of Tanach but only the Chazal’s explanation of it. In particular we are trying to offer a novel explanation of R. Yossi’s shita in the Gemara. We will use a novel idea supported by Yosef ben Matityahu. While he was a controversial person at best, he had excellent Jewish education and his traditions are largely reliable and generally represent the opinions of Tanaim of his time. He is quoted numerous times in Daat Sofrim and other traditional commentaries.
[2] Yad Ramah, Tosafot Harosh.
[3] See Margoilyot Hayam. He therefore concludes that we must accept the shitah of Rabeinu Yeshaya on Shmuel (1:13:1) that the two and a half years that Shaul had ruled are only considered until the time David was anointed. However this shitah is in contradiction with Seder Olam which is a product of Rabbi Yossi himself. In the commentary of Gaonim on Sanhedrin another possibility is offered that Shaul himself did not realize that Meirav had been married to Adriel when he offeredher to David. Incidentally modern scholarship supposes that Shaul ruled over Israel for more than two years and possibly the word “thirty” is missing in Masoretic text before the word “two” in Shmuel 1:13:1: “[thirty] two years he ruled in over Israel.” Abarbanel has a different explanation of our text according to which Shaul also ruled longer.
[4] It is also possible (though this is not R. Yossi’s shita) that Palti was the same person as Adriel and Shaul first gave Meirav to Adriel and later when she died soon after this marriage and David was running away from Shaul and was considered a rebel, Meirav’s sister Michal was given to Adriel who was now called Palti.
[5] See Tosafot Kidushin 52b.
[6] As to the nature of this Kidushin, we do find some cases where “work” performed is counted as Kidushin as well as saving from danger (see Kidushin 8b, in particular “saving from a dog” in 30:11). Apparently both R. Yossi and his students don’t question that some kind of Kidushin happened here, and if Meirav was no longer minor it must be that she either agreed on Shaul’s proposal or made Shaul her shliach to accept such a Kidushin as saving from a “dog” (incidentally Goliath is in fact compared to a dog, see Sota 42b).
[7] Note that according to David these children were mamzerim.
[8] As mentioned previously neither R. Yossi nor his students had any doubt that Meirav’s Kidushin was valid. Therefore the verse used that Kidushin to compare to Kidushin of Michal and emphasize that giving Michal to Palti was just as sinful as giving Meirav to Adriel. The verse therefore means: “And the king took two sons of Rizpah daughter of Ayah whom she bore to Shaul, Armoni and Mephiboshet, and the five sons of Michal, the daughter of Shaul, whom she bore to [Palti to whom she was given incorrectly just like Meirav was given to] Adriel the son of Barzillai, the Meholatite”. This may be similar to Chazal’s explanation of Zecharia 12:11: “On that day the mourning will be as great in Yerushalaim as the mourning of Hadadrimon in the valley of Megiddo”. There is no known tragic incident in our history that is related to Hadadrimon and the valley of Megiddo. The Talmud (Megilah 3a) quotes the Targum adding a number of words and relating this verse to two different events: “On that day the mourning will be as great in Yerushalaim as the mourning of [Ahab who was killed by] Hadadrimon [and the mourning of Yeshayahu who was killed] in the valley of Megiddo.



A nay bintl briv: Personal Reminiscences of Rabbi Israel Meir ha-Kohen from the Yiddish Republic of Letters

A nay bintl briv:

Personal Reminiscences of Rabbi Israel Meir ha-Kohen from the Yiddish Republic of Letters

Shaul Seidler-Feller

Editor’s note: The present post is part one of a two-part essay. Part two can be found here.

Introduction

Beginning on January 20, 1906, Abraham (Abe) Cahan (1860–1951), the legendary founder and longtime editor of the Yiddish-language Forverts newspaper in New York, published a regular agony uncle column famously entitled A bintl briv (A Bundle of Letters; often Romanized A Bintel Brief).[1] Herein he reproduced missives sent to the daily by its largely Eastern European immigrant readership seeking advice on a range of personal issues, followed by his wise, insightful counsel.[2] While today this once-immensely-popular feature may have quietly evanesced into the mists of Yiddish journalistic history,[3] it is my intention here to revive it, if only briefly and in altered form, via transcription, translation, and discussion of two letters penned to the distinguished Forverts columnist Rabbi Aaron B. Shurin.

Shurin, born in Riteve (present-day Rietavas, Lithuania) on the second day of Rosh Hashanah 5673 (September 13, 1912)[4] to his parents Rabbi Moses and Ruth, learned in his youth at the heder and yeshivah of Riteve (the latter founded by his father) and spent the years 1928–1936 at the yeshivot of Ponevezh (present-day Panevėžys, Lithuania) and Telz (present-day Telšiai, Lithuania).[5] In 1936, he joined the rest of his family in the Holy Land, to which it had immigrated the previous year, and soon thereafter he continued his studies at the yeshivot of Hebron (as transplanted to Jerusalem) and Petah Tikva, as well as at the 1938 Summer Seminar in Tel Aviv under Prof. Yehuda Even Shmuel (Kaufman; 1886–1976).[6] The following year (1939), he received yoreh yoreh and yadin yadin semikhot from Rabbis Meir Stolewitz (1870–1949), Isser Zalman Meltzer (1870–1953), Reuven Katz (1880–1963), and Isaac ha-Levi Herzog (1888–1959) and in 1940 moved again, this time to New York, to which his father had relocated circa 1937.[7] At that point, he began studying at Yeshiva College and Columbia University, and in 1941–1942 he simultaneously taught Bible and Hebrew language and literature in YC; he would later go on to occupy a position on the Judaic studies faculty at Stern College for Women for many years (1949–1956 and 1966–2001).[8]

In the years that followed, in addition to teaching at YU, Shurin served as cofounder and vice president of Poalei Agudath Israel (1941–1947), rabbi of two synagogues (Beth Hacknesseth Anshei Slutsk at 34 Pike Street in Manhattan [1941–1945] and Toras Moshe Jewish Center at 4314 Tenth Avenue in Brooklyn [1945–1947]), and principal of a day school (Talmud Torah Hechodosh at 146 Stockton Street in Brooklyn [1949–1953]), among several other leadership positions.[9] However, it is his sixty-two-plus-year career at the Forverts on which I wish to focus here. Already in his youth, as a talmid in Telz and then in Israel, he began writing articles and studies for various Hebrew and Yiddish publications, and when he came to America (to quote him directly), “Anywhere I could write, I did […] I enjoyed it, and I compiled a portfolio of articles on a wide range of subjects. One day, a friend said to me, ‘You should write for the Forward.’ I laughed.”[10] At the time, the Forverts was by far the most widely read Jewish newspaper, with a daily circulation of over 100,000 copies, and was avowedly secular in orientation, even publishing on Shabbat and yom tov (although it was respectful of the religious).[11] Nevertheless, despite these challenges to a young, aspiring Orthodox journalist, Shurin took the idea of working at the Forverts to the famed historian and bibliophile Chaim Lieberman (1892–1991) who, after reading a sample of his work, recommended him to Harry Lang (1888–1970), a managing editor at the paper, and shortly thereafter editor Hillel (Harry) Rogoff (1882–1971) hired him.[12] From 1944 to 1983, Shurin wrote approximately two columns per week; when the Forverts became a weekly in the latter year, he, too, switched to one column per week until his retirement in 2007.[13]

For the most part, Shurin’s Forverts articles focused on religious topics, Jewish education, social-political issues in Israel (particularly those concerning the Orthodox parties), and the lives of great Jewish historical figures.[14] The aforementioned letters written to Shurin were sent in response to two of these columns, separated by eight years. His son David was kind enough to transfer them to Seforim Blog editor Eliezer Brodt (who then e-mailed scans to me) and to give full permission for their publication and translation below.[15]

First Letter

In honor of the sesquicentennial of what some consider the birth year of Rabbi Israel Meir ha-Kohen, the world-renowned Hafets Hayyim,[16] Shurin published an article in the Forverts treating the most important aspects of this great leader’s biography, focusing on his legendarily superlative piety, as well as his literary, educational, and political activities on behalf of European Jewry.[17] Not long thereafter, he received the following letter:

 

שיקאַגאָ, 1/31/88

!זייער געערטער הרב שורין

אייער אינטערעסאַנטער אַרטיקל וועגן חפץ חיים האָט מיר
דערמאָנט אַ פּאַסירונג אין מיין היים-שטאָט ווילנע מיט זעכציק
.יאָר צוריק, ווען איך בּין געווען אַ קינד פון קוים פינף יאָר
מיין זיידע האָט געהאַט דעם גרויסן זכות צו זיין אַ פריינט
פון חפץ חיים, ווי אויך זיין דאָקטאָר. ווען דער חפץ חיים
.פלעגט קומען קיין ווילנע פלעגט ער אונדז שטענדיק בּאַזוכן
אַ פּלימעניצע פון חפץ חיים האָט געוואוינט ״נעקסט דאָר״ פון
.אונדז און ער פלעגט נאַטירלעך איר אויך בּאַזוכן

איינמאָל ווען דער חפץ חיים איז געקומען צו אונדז אין הויז
אַריין איז מיין זיידע פּונקט ניט געווען אין דער היים, ער איז
.געווען בּיי אַ קראַנקן. מיין פאָטער איז אויך געווען בּיי אַ פּאַציענט
מיין זיידע און מיין פאָטער האָבּן געהאַט אַ געמיינזאַמע פּראַקטיק
און מיר האָבּן אויך געוואוינט צוזאַמען. מיין מוטער האָט גלייך
געוואָלט עמיצן שיקן רופן דעם זיידן, אָבער דער חפץ חיים
האָט געזאָגט, אַז ער וועט בּעסער וואַרטן בּיז דער זיידע וועט
צוריק קומען. ער האָט ווייזט אויס ניט געוואָלט דער זיידע זאָל
זיך איילן בּיים בּאַהאַנדלען דעם קראַנקן. ער איז געזעסן
אין אַ גרויסן לעדערנעם פאָטעל אין וואַרטע-צימער און ניט
אין די אינעווייניקסטע צימערן, ווייל דאָס וואָלט געמיינט צו
זיין אַליין מיט די פרויען, מיין בּאָבּע און מיין מוטער. דאָס איז
געווען אין 1927 און ער איז שוין געווען א זקן. מיין מוטער

2

האָט מיר געהייסן אַריינגיין אין וואַרטע-זאַל און בּעטן דעם
חפץ חיים ער זאָל מיר בּענטשן. איך בּין געווען אַ קליין מיידעלע
פון פינף יאָר און איך האָבּ זיך געשעמט, האָבּ איך צוערשט
זיך בּאַהאַלטן הינטער אַ דיקער סאַמעטענער פּאָרטיערע וואָס
איז געהאַנגען איבּער דער טיר. איך האָבּ געקוקט אויף אים
פון הינטערן פאָרהאַנג און געזען אַ פנים פון בּלויז
גוטסקייט, האָבּ איך זיך אָנגענומען מיט מוט און בּין
פּאמעלינקערהייט צוגעגאַנגען צו אים. איך האָבּ ניט געזאָגט
קיין וואָרט נאָר בּלויז געקוקט אויף אים און געוואַרט. דער חפץ חיים
האָט מיר דערזען און פאַרשטאַנען. מיט אַ לייכטן שמייכל האָט ער
.אַרויפגעלייגט די האַנט אויף מיין קאָפּ און מיר געבּענטשט
איך האָבּ געשפּירט ווי אַ גרויסע וואַרעמקייט און גוטסקייט
שטראָמט פון אים און איך האָבּ געפילט אַ גרויסע ליבּשאַפט
צו דעם צדיק, ווי נאָר אַ קינד קען פילן, ניט מיטן פאַרשטאַנד
.נאָר מיטן האַרץ

בּיז היינטיקן טאָג גלויבּ איך אַז אין זכות פון זיין ברכה
.בּין איך איבּערגעקומען היטלערס לאַגערן

איך דאַנק אייך געערטער הרב שורין פאַר דעם
פאַרגעניגן וואָס איר פאַרשאַפט אייערע לייענער מיט אייערע
אַרטיקלען און איך ווינטש אייך איר זאָלט זוכה זיין צו
.דערפרייען אונדז מיט אייער שרייבּן נאָך פאַר לאנגע, לאַנגע יאָרן

,מיט אכטונג
.בּעטי דיִקמאַן
1930 W LOYOLA 618

Chicago, 1/31/88

To the highly esteemed Rabbi Shurin!

Your interesting article about the Hafets Hayyim reminded me of a story that took place in my hometown of Vilna sixty years ago, when I was a child barely five years of age. My grandfather was very fortunate to be a friend of the Hafets Hayyim, as well as his physician. When the Hafets Hayyim would come to Vilna, he would always visit us. A niece of his lived next door, and he would also, naturally, go to see her.

One time when the Hafets Hayyim came to our house, my grandfather, as luck would have it, was not home; he was tending to someone ill. My father, too, was with a patient. My grandfather and father had a shared practice, and we also all lived together. My mother immediately suggested sending someone to call for my grandfather, but the Hafets Hayyim said that he preferred to wait until my grandfather returned. He evidently did not want my grandfather to rush his treatment of the sick person. He sat down in a large leather armchair in the foyer,[18] not in the innermost rooms, because that would have meant being secluded with the women – my grandmother and mother. This was in 1927, when he was already an elderly man. My mother

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told me to go to the hallway[19] and ask the Hafets Hayyim to bless me. I was a small, shy girl of five years, so I initially hid behind a thick velvet portiere hanging over the door. But when I peered at him from behind the curtain and saw a face of pure goodness, I mustered up my courage and slowly approached him. I did not say a word; I just looked at him and waited. The Hafets Hayyim caught sight of me and understood. With an easy smile, he lay his hand on my head and blessed me. I sensed a great warmth and goodness streaming forth from him and felt much love for this righteous man, as only a child can – not with the mind but with the heart.

To this day, I believe that it is on account of his blessing that I survived Hitler’s camps.

I thank you, esteemed R. Shurin, for the joy that you bring to your readers with your columns and wish you the good fortune to continue delighting us with your writing for many, many years to come.

Respectfully,
Betty Dickman
1930 W Loyola 618

On April 14, 1997, Donna Puccini interviewed Betty Dickman about her experiences during the Holocaust on behalf of what is today the USC Shoah Foundation’s Institute for Visual History and Education.[20] From that conversation we learn that Dickman was born Isabella Margolin on April 9, 1922 in Vilna – then part of Poland and called Wilno but today known as Vilnius, Lithuania – as the only child of her parents, Mones (1893–1941) and Henya (1894–1943) Margolin. As already noted in the letter, her maternal grandparents, Chaim and Rose Bruk, lived together with them, and both her grandfather and father were physicians, while her grandmother and mother stayed home with their Polish maid.[21] Chaim Bruk was a prominent member of the Vilna Jewish community who sat on the board of directors of the Tiferes Bachurim Society (at 6 Niemiecka [present-day Vokiečių] Street),[22] helped to found the city’s Miszmeres Chojlim charitable hospital (at 5 Kijowska [present-day Kauno] Street),[23]  and served as gabbai of Zalkin’s (formerly Zemel’s) kloyz (at 2 Rudnicka [present-day Rūdninkų] Street),[24] which was located right next door to the family’s apartment building at 4 Rudnicka Street.[25] According to Dickman, when he passed away in 1936 at the age of 70, all the stores lining the streets through which the funeral procession passed were closed, and “there must have been about twenty-five thousand [!] people at that funeral.”

Aside from its value as a firsthand account of the profoundly human, down-to-earth, and kindhearted character of the Hafets Hayyim, this letter also touches on, and complicates our understanding of, at least three aspects of his biography and religious worldview.[26] First and foremost is his attitude toward medicine. The Hafets Hayyim was famous for his pure, unshakable faith in God,[27] relying on Him to heal the sick even when traditional medical interventions had not been attempted.[28] However, a number of incidents recorded by the Hafets Hayyim’s biographers point to a willingness to, and even insistence on the importance of, consult(ation) with physicians about health-related issues.[29] While I have so far not succeeded in corroborating the letter’s claim that Bruk served as the Hafets Hayyim’s personal doctor,[30] it is evident that both certain members of the Hafets Hayyim’s family and he himself had recourse to medical professionals at various stages of their lives[31] – a point that comes through clearly in Dickman’s writing.

Another interesting aspect of this story concerns the Hafets Hayyim’s willingness to bless the young girl. Though many petitioned him to pray on their behalf or offer them a blessing,[32] the Hafets Hayyim often refused on principle to do so, noting that God makes Himself equally available to every Jew, no matter his status in the community, and that He would actually prefer to hear directly from His children than from an intermediary.[33] The fact that he made an exception in this case, while certainly not unheard-of,[34] is nevertheless noteworthy, and it deepens our appreciation of his paternal conduct with this shy little girl.

Finally, attention should be directed toward the Hafets Hayyim’s halakhic stance on yihud. While most posekim assume that secluding oneself with a married woman whose husband is in town (ba‘alah ba-ir) is permissible even ab initio,[35] the letter reports that the Hafets Hayyim would not allow himself to sit together with Mrs. Bruk and Mrs. Margolin even though their husbands were not far away.[36] Interestingly, this humra, which is based on Rashi’s understanding of a passage in the Talmud,[37] seemingly contradicts the Hafets Hayyim’s own ruling on the matter in his Sefer nidhei yisra’el, intended for Jews who had immigrated to America.[38] It would thus appear that we have here an instance in which the Hafets Hayyim’s personal practice reflected a higher degree of stringency regarding halakhah than he required of others.[39]

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* I wish at the outset to express my gratitude to Eliezer Brodt for furnishing me with the opportunity to compose this essay and for his patience during its long gestation. Additional thanks go to his fellow editors at the Seforim Blog, particularly the incomparable Menachem Butler, whose bibliographical reach seems unlimited. Finally, I am indebted to my friends Eliyahu Krakowski, Daniel Tabak, and Shlomo Zuckier for their corrections and comments to an earlier draft of this piece that, taken together, improved it considerably.

[1] On the inception of A bintl briv, see Abraham Cahan, Bleter fun mayn leben, vol. 4 (New York: Forward Association, 1928), 471-478. See also “Treasures From the Forverts’ Archive – Chapter #3. A Bintel Brief (1)” (watch at about 1:13) (accessed August 19, 2019). For the historical background behind, and contemporary influences upon, this feature, see Steven Cassedy, “A Bintel brief: The Russian Émigré Intellectual Meets the American Mass Media,” East European Jewish Affairs 34,1 (2004): 104-120.
[2] After two to three years, Cahan tells us, his many other responsibilities at the paper did not allow him to continue answering the letters personally, so that he had to ask other members of his staff to compose the responses (Bleter, 483).
[3] The most recent column, published in a dedicated corner of The Jewish Daily Forward website called The Bintel Brief, is dated May 24, 2010 (accessed August 19, 2019). Anthologies of selected letters in English translation have appeared as Isaac Metzker (ed.), A Bintel Brief: Sixty Years of Letters from the Lower East Side to the Jewish Daily Forward, trans. Diana Shalet Levy with Bella S. Metzker (New York: Ballantine Books, 1971), and Isaac Metzker (ed.), A Bintel Brief: Letters to the Jewish Daily Forward[,] 1950–1980, trans. Bella S. Metzker and Diana Shalet Levy (New York: The Viking Press, 1981). More recently, some of these missives have been adapted into graphic novel form by Liana Finck as A Bintel Brief: Love and Longing in Old New York (New York: Ecco, 2014).
[4] Anon., “About the Author,” in Aaron B. Shurin, Moadim Lesimcha: Insights[,] Explanations and Stories on the Jewish Holidays (Brooklyn: Aaron B. Shurin, 2006), xi-xx, at p. xi. Some sources date his birth to 1913 or even 1914, but these are clearly mistaken given that when he died on 24 Sivan 5772 (June 14, 2012), he was just a few months shy of his one-hundredth birthday. See, e.g., David Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah la-halutsei ha-yishuv u-bonav: demuyyot u-temunot, vol. 10 (Tel Aviv: Sifriyyat Rishonim, 1959), 3474-3475, at p. 3474, translated/adapted somewhat inaccurately and laconically in Alter Levite, Dina Porat, and Roni Stauber (eds.), A Yizkor Book to Riteve: A Jewish Shtetl in Lithuania (Cape Town: The Kaplan-Kushlick Foundation, 2000), 105-106, at p. 105; Elias Schulman, Leksikon fun forverts shrayber zint 1897, ed. Simon Weber (New York: Forward Association, 1987), 90-91, at p. 90; Berl Kagan, Yidishe shtet, shtetlekh un dorfishe yishuvim in lite biz 1918: historish-biografishe skitses (New York: Berl Kagan, 1991), 556-557, at p. 556; and Alex Mindlin, “A Religious Voice in a Secular Forest,” The New York Times (November 28, 2004). I thank Chana Pollack, Archivist at The Jewish Daily Forward, for sending me a copy of the Leksikon for my personal use.

As an aside, and since I know that the Seforim Blog has a special interest in issues surrounding plagiarism, one can find (mild) examples of this phenomenon in the announcement of Shurin’s passing published by Casriel Bauman, “A Legend in His Time: Rabbi Aharon Ben Zion Shurin z”l,” Matzav.com (June 14, 2012) (accessed August 19, 2019) – subsequently reprinted with minor modifications in the Queens Jewish Link 1,12 (June 28, 2012): 89 – which fails to cite both Tidhar’s encyclopedia entry and the New York Times interview as its sources.
[5] Anon., “About the Author,” xi; see also Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474. For photographs of Shurin (at that point still going by the original family name, Mishuris) and his friends taken in Telz on 3 Adar II 5695 (March 8, 1935), see the following Ebay listings: 12 (accessed August 19, 2019). For a recent photograph of the dilapidated yeshivah building in Telz, taken by Richard Schofield as part of his photo essay Back to Shul (Vilnius: International Centre for Litvak Photography, 2018), see here (accessed August 19, 2019).
[6] Anon., “About the Author,” xi-xii; see also Anon., “Totse’ot ha-behinot be-seminar ha-kayits mi-ta‘am ha-v[a‘ad] ha-l[e’ummi],” Ha-tsofeh 3,318 (January 13, 1939): 1. (Cf. the 1940 United States Census record for Manhattan [accessed June 21, 2019], according to which Aaron, like the rest of his family, was living in “Tel-a-Viv” as of April 1, 1935. This seems unlikely given the date inscribed on the photographs mentioned in the previous note.) According to Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474, Shurin also attended a gymnasium at night while learning at the Lomzher yeshivah in Petah Tikva.
[7] Anon., “About the Author,” xii; see also Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474-3475, and the announcement of his move to America in Ha-mashkif 2,244 (January 25, 1940): 4. His younger brother, Rabbi Israel Shurin (1918–2007), followed a very similar educational path. See the biographical sketch published originally in Yated Neeman with contributions from Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky and Sharon Katz, entitled “Rav Yisroel Shurin, z”l: A Revered Rav and a Link to a Lithuanian Past” (accessed August 19, 2019).
[8] Anon., “About the Author,” xii. See also Anon., Columbia University in the City of New York: Supplement to the Directory Number, 1945 (New York: New York, 1945), 45; Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474; the 1967 volume of Stern’s yearbook, Kochaviah, 35 (where he is referred to as “Arthur,” rather than “Aaron,” Shurin); and YU Review: The Magazine of Yeshiva University (Fall 2005): 30. (For the record, the latest Kochaviah yearbook in which I was able to locate Shurin on the faculty pages was the 1997 volume [p. 21]; he did not appear there in the 1998 and 2000 editions, and neither the YU Archives nor Stern’s Hedi Steinberg Library held copies of the 1999 and 2001 volumes at the time I visited them [if indeed those editions were ever actually published]. I thank Shulamith Z. Berger, Curator of Special Collections and Hebraica-Judaica, for allowing me to examine the Archives’ holdings.) As noted by Tidhar and others, Shurin edited the Hebrew section of Eidenu (New York: Students of the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, 1942), a volume dedicated to the memory of YU President Rabbi Dr. Bernard Revel (1885–1940).
[9] Anon., “About the Author,” xii; see also Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474. For some of his other organizational affiliations, see Anon., “About the Author,” xviii. See also lots 169170191198200205210, and 211 from a Kestenbaum & Company auction held on April 7, 2016, which included letters written to Shurin and his father-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Dov-Ber Rivkin (1892–1976), by some of the leading lights of the Jewish world at the time (accessed August 19, 2019). It is interesting to note that Rabbis Eliezer Silver (1882–1968) and Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903–1993) both apparently read Shurin’s columns in the Forverts.
[10] Quoted in Yisroel Besser, “Defending the Past in the Pages of the Forward: Rabbi Aaron Benzion Shurin’s Six Decades of Journalism,” Mishpacha (May 26, 2010): 26-33, at p. 29. For more on Shurin’s writing outside of the context of his work for the Forverts, including his many rabbinic publications, see Anon., “About the Author,” xiv-xvii, and Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3474-3475.

Relatedly, Israel Mizrahi notes that Shurin’s personal library of approximately two thousand volumes “included many classics as well as obscure works from the last century as well as a very strong showing of newspapers, from the 19th century through the WWII period, with many bound volumes of rare newspapers present.” See “Recent Acquisitions at Mizrahi Bookstore, the libraries of Aaron Ben-Zion Shurin […],” Musings of a Jewish Bookseller (March 29, 2016) (accessed August 19, 2019). One of his books, Eliezer Ben-Yehuda’s Ad eimatai dibberu ivrit? (New York: Kadimah, 1919), comprised lot 3 of Winner’s Auctions’ July 19, 2016 sale (accessed August 19, 2019).
[11] Gennady Estraikh and Zalman Newfield, “Grandfathers against Bar Mitzvahs: Secular Immigrant Jews Confront Religion in 1940s America,” Zutot 9 (2012): 73-84, at p. 74; see also Gennady Estraikh, “A Mid-Twentieth-Century Quest for Jewish Authenticity: The Yiddish Daily Forverts’ Warming to Religion,” in Eliyana R. Adler and Sheila E. Jelen (eds.), Reconstructing the Old Country: American Jewry in the Post-Holocaust Decades (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2017), 111-134, at pp. 111-112. On the occasion of the Forverts’ eightieth anniversary, Shurin himself would reflect that “the Forverts has […] been very friendly to the yeshivah world throughout the years that I have been a collaborator on the Forverts editorial staff.” See Aaron B. Shurin, “Idish lebn in amerike,” Forverts (April 24, 1977): B8, B24, at p. B24.

In his interview with The New York Times, Shurin asserts that the Forverts had a quarter million readers at the time he was hired, but Estraikh and Newfield write that that number was accurate for the 1920s, not the 1940s.
[12] Besser, “Defending,” 30, explains the decision to bring an Orthodox rabbi onboard by noting that “times were changing and the Forward management perceived that they had to provide their Orthodox readership – which was immense – with a column geared to their needs, coverage and perspective of the issues that concerned them.” Similarly, Mindlin of the Times writes that “[Shurin’s] hiring reflected the feeling of the founding editor, Abraham Cahan, that the newspaper needed to speak to the religious Jews who flooded the United States in the 30’s and 40’s.” Indeed, according to Estraikh and Newfield, “Grandfathers,” 75 n. 8, based on an article published in the Forverts in February 1956, “[b]y the mid-1950s, secular readers already belonged to the minority of the Forverts audience.” See also Estraikh, “A Mid-Twentieth-Century Quest,” passim, but esp. pp. 121-122, as well as the comments cited by S. Daniel, editor of Ha-tsofeh, in an article translated as “Faithful Servant” in Shurin, Moadim Lesimcha, xxi-xxiv.
[13] Shurin’s first column appeared as A.B. Rutzon, “‘Mizrakhi’ un ‘agudes yisroel’ – vegn vos zey krigen zikh,” Forverts (November 5, 1944): B3 (Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3475, notes that A.B. Rutzon was one of Shurin’s pseudonyms, a reference to his mother’s name, Ruth). The last article of his that I was able to identify was published April 20, 2007; see the table of contents of that issue here (accessed August 19, 2019). See also Anon., “About the Author,” xv.

Interestingly, Schulman, Leksikon, 90-91, writes that Shurin also managed the Fun folk tsu(m) folk (From People to People) readers’ correspondence section of the paper, although I did not find other references to this point. Also interesting, and curious, is the fact that although Shurin’s passing was mourned at the Kave shtibl and in Der moment (accessed August 19, 2019), I could find no article online in either the Forverts or the Forward reporting his death.
[14] See Anon., “About the Author,” xv; Tidhar, Entsiklopedyah, 3475; and Schulman, Leksikon, 90.
[15] I attempted to be faithful to the originals in transcribing these letters, without adjusting or correcting such features as orthography, vocalization, or punctuation.
[16] We know that he was born 11 Shevat, but the exact year is disputed, with varying accounts claiming it was either 5588 (1828), 5589 (1829), 5593 (1833), 5595 (1835), 5598 (1838), or 5599 (1839). For some of the literature on this issue, see Moses M. Yoshor, He-hafets hayyim: hayyav u-po‘olo, vol. 1 (Tel Aviv: Netsah, 1958), 25 with n. 1; Nathan Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol: A Study of Episodes in the Lives of Great Torah Personalities: Improved Edition, vol. 1, pt. 2 (Jerusalem: P.P. Publishers, 2004), 1106-1108 (Notes and Excursuses 5.1 (2) / Excursus B); and [Dan Rabinowitz], “Chofetz Hayyim[:] His Death, the New York Times and Research Tools,” Seforim Blog (October 31, 2006) (accessed August 19, 2019).
[17] Aaron B. Shurin, “Der ‘khofets khayim’, tsu zayn 150 yorikn geboyrn-yor,” Forverts (January 29, 1988): 13, 27. See also Shurin’s earlier, Hebrew-language reflection on the Hafets Hayyim’s life and works: “He-‘hafets hayyim’ – rabban shel yisra’el,” in Keshet gibborim: demuyyot ba-ofek ha-yehudi shel dor aharon, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1964), 115-121.
[18] The original Yiddish here reads varte-tsimer, lit., “waiting room”; I take this to refer to the foyer of the home.
[19] The original Yiddish here reads varte-zal, lit., “waiting hall”; I take this to refer to the hallway off the foyer.
[20] The Institute website can be found here, and Dickman’s interview can be found either on the Visual History Archive Online site here or on YouTube here (accessed August 19, 2019).
[21] For three slightly different dappei-ed (pages of testimony) filed by Dickman with Yad Vashem about her father, see 12, and 3; for two she filed about her mother, see 1 and 2; and for two she filed about her grandmother Rose, see 1 and 2 (accessed August 19, 2019).
[22] According to Shemaryahu (Shmerele) Szarafan, “Di religyeze vilne,” in Aaron Isaac Grodzenski (ed.), Vilner almanakh (Vilna: Ovnt Kuryer, 1939; repr. Brooklyn: Moriah Offset Co., 1992), cols. 321-332, at col. 324, the Tiferes Bachurim Society was founded in 1902 by the young Rabbi Jechiel ha-Levi Sruelow (1879–1946) to combat the radical, anti-religious forces on the Jewish street by teaching young workers and craftsmen Torah and Talmud at night and on Shabbat and yom tov, when they had free time. Chaim Bruk was one of the people who did much to ensure the society’s financial security; he is pictured, together with Szarafan, Sruelow, and other members of the board of directors, in Leyzer Ran (ed.), Jerusalem of Lithuania: Illustrated and Documented, vol. 1 (New York: Vilno Album Committee, 1974), 261, and here (accessed August 19, 2019). See also Aliza Cohen-Mushlin, Sergey Kravtsov, Vladimir Levin et al. (eds.), “Appendix: Synagogues, Batei Midrash and Kloyzn in Vilnius,” in Synagogues in Lithuania: A Catalogue, vol. 2 (Vilnius: Vilnius Academy of Arts Press, 2012), 281-353, at pp. 303-304 (no. 12), and Yisrael Rozenson, “‘Ba‘avur tse‘irim kemo gam le-ovedim u-le-ozerim ba-hanuyyot’: al ha-mif‘al ha-hinnukhi ‘tif’eret bahurim’ be-vilnah,” Hagut: mehkarim ba-hagut ha-hinnukh ha-yehudi 10 (2014): 15-72, esp. p. 44. The society eventually moved into the former kloyz of the Lubavitcher Hasidim located in the Vilna shulhoyf (synagogue courtyard); see no. 12 in the diagram of the shulhoyf available here (accessed August 19, 2019).
[23] A. Karabtshinski, “Mishmeres-khoylim,” in Grodzenski, Vilner almanakh, cols. 319-320, reports that the society after which the hospital was named was founded by Rabbi Bezalel Altshuler in 1890 as a branch of Vilna’s general charity fund and that the hospital itself was built in 1913. Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, 161, by contrast, writes that the hospital building dedication took place in 1912. See also the photograph of the 1910 cornerstone-laying ceremony on that same page (161) in which, according to Dickman’s interview (watch at approx. 2:49:15), Bruk is pictured on the far right wearing a straw hat and holding a cane. For a photograph of the hospital building before the outbreak of World War II, see here (accessed August 19, 2019).
[24] See Cohen-Mushlin et al., “Appendix,” 317-318 (no. 60). For a photograph of Chaim Bruk praying in the kloyz circa 1935, see Dickman’s interview (watch at approx. 2:50:11); he is pictured on the far right in the first row.
[25] For maps of prewar/wartime Jewish Vilna, see Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, insert (in Yiddish), and here (in Polish) (accessed August 19, 2019). For a modern map of Vilna with Jewish sites (including ghetto borders) overlaid, see here (make sure to click “Explore on your own”) (accessed August 19, 2019). Most of the addresses mentioned above can be found in the vicinity of the two Vilna ghetto locations. For a photograph of a 3-D model of the Vilna ghettos created illegally by Jewish artists in 1943, see Leyzer Ran and Leybl Koriski (eds.), Bleter vegn vilne: zamlbukh (Łódź: Farband fun Vilner Yidn in Poyln, 1947; also available through the New York Public Library Yizkor Book online portal [accessed August 19, 2019]), after p. 52. Finally, for photographs of wartime and present-day Rudnicka/Rūdninkų Street, see here (accessed August 19, 2019).
[26] A definitive academic study of R. Israel Meir ha-Kohen’s life and legacy remains a scholarly desideratum. Rabbi Eitam Henkin, who, together with his wife Naama, was cruelly murdered in October 2015 by Palestinian terrorists, had made a major bid to fill the void by submitting a doctoral proposal on the topic to Tel Aviv University. Henkin’s mentor, Prof. David Assaf, posted the proposal online shortly after his death, both as a memorial for this up-and-coming scholar, whose life and brilliant career were cut all too short, and for the benefit of future researchers: “Sheloshim le-retsah eitam henkin: tokhnit ha-mehkar al ‘he-hafets hayyim’,” Oneg shabbat (October 30, 2015) (accessed August 19, 2019). The most recent attempt of which I am aware to critically assess, albeit partially, the work of the Hafets Hayyim was penned by Benjamin Brown, “Ha-‘ba‘al bayit’: r. yisra’el me’ir ha-kohen, he-‘hafets hayyim’,” in Benjamin Brown and Nissim Leon (eds.), Ha-‘gdoylim’: ishim she-itsevu et penei ha-yahadut ha-haredit be-yisra’el (Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute; Magnes Press, 2017), 105-151.

The most extensive research on the Hafets Hayyim’s life conducted outside the academic sphere is that by Rabbi Moses M. Yoshor (1896–1978), a student and eventual personal secretary of this great Torah sage. For the history of Yoshor’s various biographical studies of his revered teacher, see his The Chafetz Chaim: The Life and Works of Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan of Radin, trans. Charles Wengrov (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 1984), xv-xviii, xxvii-xxviii, as well as the unpaginated translator’s note and note on the author in the frontmatter.
[27] On the Hafets Hayyim as one of the main Lithuanian representatives of a phenomenon Benjamin Brown has termed “the return of ‘pure faith’” within the Jewish tradition, see his “Shuvah shel ‘ha-emunah ha-temimah’: tefisat ha-emunah ha-haredit u-tsemihatah ba-me’ah ha-19,” in Moshe Halbertal, David Kurzweil, and Avi Sagi (eds.), Al ha-emunah: iyyunim be-mussag ha-emunah u-be-toledotav ba-massoret ha-yehudit (Jerusalem: Keter, 2005), 403-443, 669-683, at pp. 433-436, as well as idem, “Ha-‘ba‘al bayit’,” 143-146.
[28] See the account of his son, Rabbi Aryeh Leib Poupko (ca. 1860–1938), in Mikhtevei ha-rav hafets hayyim z[ekher] ts[addik] l[i-berakhah]: korot hayyav, derakhav, nimmukav ve-sihotav, 1st ed. (Warsaw: B. Liebeskind, 1937), 12 (third pagination): “My mother, of blessed memory, told me in my youth that during my upbringing they almost never consulted with doctors. If one of us fell ill, my father advised [my mother] to distribute a pood of bread to the poor, while he ascended to the attic and prayed, and the sickness departed” (par. 26; subsequently quoted in David Falk, Sefer ha-boteah ba-H[ashem] hesed yesovevennu [Jerusalem: n.p., 2010], 92, 250-251). In two other places, Poupko quotes his father as extolling the value of physical suffering in this world as a means of reaching the next world (ibid., 13 [third pagination; pars. 28-29]); see also ibid., 22 (first pagination). Moses M. Yoshor, Saint and Sage (Hafetz Hayim) (New York: Hafetz Hayim Yeshivah Society, 1937), 135, writes that the Hafets Hayyim refused to heed the advice of his physicians when he trekked approximately eighty kilometers from Radin (present-day Radun’, Belarus) to Vilna in early 1932, toward the end of his life, in order to attend a rabbinical conference.
[29] Several sources treat the Hafets Hayyim’s concern for others’ (particularly his students’) physical well-being: Moses M. Yoshor, He-hafets hayyim: hayyav u-po‘olo, vol. 2 (Tel Aviv: Netsah, 1959), 717; ibid., vol. 3 (Tel Aviv: Netsah, 1961), 846-847, 918; and Aryeh Leib Poupko, Mikhtevei ha-rav hafets hayyim z[ekher] ts[addik] l[i-berakhah], ed. S. Artsi, 2 vols. (Bnei Brak: n.p., 1986), 2:107. In addition, in his magnum opus, Mishnah berurah, the Hafets Hayyim discusses situations in which a doctor’s opinion is accorded halakhic significance, e.g., in the determination of whether someone should fast on Yom Kippur (see his comments to Joseph Caro, Shulhan arukhOrah hayyim 618).
[30] Strangely, I could not find mention of either Bruk or his son-in-law Mones Margolin in the essays about Vilna doctors by A.J. Goldschmidt and Zemach Shabad in Ephim H. Jeshurin (ed.), Vilne: a zamelbukh gevidmet der shtot vilne (New York: Wilner Branch 367, Workmen’s Circle, 1935), 377-437, 725-736.
[31] In his youth, while in yeshivah, the Hafets Hayyim suffered from a condition that interfered with his learning and was instructed by his doctors to take a break from his studies for a year, which he did (Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 5 [first pagination]). On his consultation with physicians to heal his son Abraham (1869–1891), see ibid., 39 (first pagination); to heal his first wife Frieda (née Epstein), see ibid., 91 (first pagination); and to heal himself, see ibid., 19 (third pagination; par. 46). In the latter connection, see also Yoshor, He-hafets hayyim, 1:66, 3:1058, as well as Dov Katz, Rabbi yisra’el me’ir ha-kohen[,] ba‘al “hafets hayyim”: toledotav, ishiyyuto ve-shittato (Tel Aviv: Avraham Zioni, 1961), 24, 97-98.

Interestingly, Yoshor, He-hafets hayyim, 1:35-36 n. 4, also reports the following ma‘aseh li-setor: Solomon ha-Kohen (1830–1905), a friend of the Hafets Hayyim who grew up in Vilna, became sick between the ages of 13 and 17, and so the doctors instructed him to take a break from learning. He apparently replied that it would be better for him to die from limmud torah than from bittul torah, continued his studies unabated, and was healed. When the Hafets Hayyim would tell this story, he would grow very emotional and repeat his friend’s words several times. Then again, see ibid., 1:343.

As regards Chaim Bruk, a number of sources mention visits by a physician brought in specially from Vilna to treat the Hafets Hayyim, but none of them names him, and it could very well be that different doctors were called upon on different occasions; for instance, we know from Yoshor, He-hafets hayyim, 3:1058, that the Hafets Hayyim would sometimes be treated by Dr. Zemach Shabad (1864–1935). See Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 19 (third pagination); Moses M. Yoshor, Dos lebn un shafen fun khofets khayim, 1st ed., vol. 2 (New York: Moses M. Yoshor, 1937), 481; idem, Saint and Sage, 97; and idem, He-hafets hayyim, 2:614, 624.
[32] See Anon., “Saintly ‘Chofetz Chaim’ Dead; Spiritual Head of World Jewry a Legend in Lifetime; over 100,” Jewish Telegraphic Agency (September 15, 1933); (with slight differences:) Anon., “Chofetz Chaim, 105, Is Dead in Poland,” The New York Times (September 16, 1933): 13; and Yoshor, Saint and Sage, 65.
[33] See Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 120 (third pagination; par. 34), 75-76 (fourth pagination; par. 4); Yoshor, Saint and Sage, 131, 175; idem, Dos lebn, 403, 525; and Dov Katz, Tenu‘at ha-musar: toledoteha[,] isheha ve-shittoteha, vol. 4 (Tel Aviv: Avraham Zioni, 1967), 88-89.

Given all of this, it is most surprising, in my opinion, to find the following recorded by the Hafets Hayyim’s son: “Once, when he took ill, he sought to walk to the grave of the ga’on Rabbi Elijah in Vilna and to ask him to arouse heavenly mercy on his behalf, in the merit” of the Haggahot ha-gera that he had printed on Torat kohanim, together with his explanations (vols. 12; Piotrków: Mordechai Zederbaum, 1911). See Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 43 (third pagination; par. 83).
[34] In fact, numerous sources testify to the Hafets Hayyim deviating at times from this policy. See Yoshor, Saint and Sage, 97, 108, 256; idem, Dos lebn, 363, 574, 610; Poupko, Mikhtevei, ed. S. Artsi, 2:100-101; and especially Anon., Sefer me’ir einei yisra’el, pt. 2, vol. 2 (Bnei Brak: Ma‘arekhet “Me’ir Einei Yisra’el,” 1999), ch. 28 (pp. 815-868), entitled “The Righteous Man Decrees – The Power of the Hafets Hayyim’s Blessings.” Indeed, even after he published a notice in the Vilna-based Dos vort newspaper in 1925 (not 1927, as some have claimed) requesting that people no longer come to him for blessings due to his weakened state, he would nevertheless warmly greet those who disregarded this plea and grant them their wish. For the text of the announcement, see Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 77 (second pagination; no. 32). See also Yoshor, Dos lebn, 464-465, and Katz, Rabbi, 107-108.
[35] See, e.g., the comments of Tosafot to bKiddushin 81a, s.v. ba‘alah ba-ir ein hosheshin lah mi-shum yihud; David Ibn Zimra, Sh[e’elot] u-t[eshuvot] ha-radbaz, vol. 3 (Warsaw: Mordechai Kalinberg; Josefov: Solomon Zetser, 1882), 18a-b (no. 919 [no. 481]); and Solomon Luria, Yam shel shelomoh mi-massekhet kiddushin (Szczecin: n.p., 1861), 44a (ch. 4, par. 22). This would seem to be the simple read of Moses Maimonides, Mishneh torah, Hilkhot issurei bi’ah 22:1, and of Joseph Caro, Shulhan arukhEven ha-ezer 22:8, as well.
[36] Of course, the issue of the husbands’ proximity was not the only halakhically relevant factor in this case. For instance, the Hafets Hayyim’s standing in the Jewish world, his location in the apartment relative to where the women were, his elderliness, and the presence of the young Isabella could all have been brought to bear on the question of the permissibility of yihud in this situation. For a summary of some of the discussion, see Eliezer Judah Waldenberg, Sefer she’elot u-teshuvot tsits eli‘ezer, vol. 6 (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1961), 183-190, 228-231 (no. 40, chs. 7-8, 22).
[37] See Rashi to bKiddushin 81a, s.v. ba‘alah ba-ir ein hosheshin lah mi-shum yihud. Several prominent aharonim (following the aforementioned comments of Tosafot ad loc.) interpreted Rashi’s words as prohibiting yihud even when a woman’s husband is in the area. Probably most famously, Rabbi Joel Sirkes (1561–1640) ruled in accordance with this stringent interpretation of Rashi in his Bayit hadash commentary on Jacob ben Asher, Arba‘ah turimEven ha-ezer 22, s.v. ishah she-ba‘alah ba-ir. Interestingly, Waldenberg, by contrast, read Rashi in a lenient light (and cited others who did so as well); see Sefer she’elot u-teshuvot tsits eli‘ezer, 6:176-177 (no. 40, ch. 4).
[38] See Israel Meir ha-Kohen, Sefer nidhei yisra’el (Warsaw: Meir Jehiel Halter and Meir Eisenstadt, 1893), 62 (ch. 24, par. 6), quoting the Shulhan arukh essentially verbatim. I thank my friend, Jonathan Ziring, for this and a number of the above yihud-related references. If I have missed a relevant citation of the Hafets Hayyim’s own work, I would love to know about it; please message me about this or any other issue with this blogpost here.
[39] As a couple of friends rightly pointed out to me, what impelled the Hafets Hayyim to avoid joining the women in “the innermost rooms” of the apartment may not have been specific  halakhic considerations but rather a more general sense of propriety. The interpretation of his behavior as reflecting a reluctance to be “secluded” (aleyn in the original) with the women despite his advanced age relies on the perceptions of someone who was five years old at the time and who may not have appreciated the complexity of the Hafets Hayyim’s thought process.

One historical question raised by the letter for which I have not yet found a satisfying answer concerns the identity of the niece who lived next door to the Bruks and Margolins in Vilna and whom the Hafets Hayyim would regularly visit when he came to town. Some of the basic information on his family tree can be gleaned from Poupko, Mikhtevei, 1st ed., 2-3 (first pagination), who informs us that the Hafets Hayyim had a number of half-siblings. See also Binyamin of Petah Tikva, “He-hafets hayyim u-mishpahto,” Toladot ve-shorashim – atsei mishpahah (January 14, 2011) (accessed August 19, 2019) for a more extensive discussion of the Hafets Hayyim’s relations. More research into the various branches of his family is required.




Review: Bekurim with the Gra’s Commentary

Review: Bekurim with Gra’s Commentary
by: Eliezer Brodt
One of the most famous gedolim who lived in the past few hundred years was R. Eliyahu of Vilna, the Vilna goan, or Gra. Gra was known for his expertise in all areas of Torah literature including all of Tanach, Bavli, Yerushlami and the rest of Chazal. Additionally, he was an expert in dikduk, Kabbalah and Halacha. Gra did not print anything in his lifetime; however, shortly after his death, his works began to be printed and have been and continue to be until today. Not only has an incredible amounts of his own material been printed but dozens of seforim, books, and articles have been devoted to him, some devoted to his torah others to his life. Bibliographies have been written collecting everything related to Gra. The most recent listing of his work’s was from Yeshayahu Vinograd in his Otzar Sifrei ha-Gra. This bibliography was printed in 2003 and contains 1,630 entries of materials related to Gra.From 2003 until today, many more could be added to this collection. Many people have worked on different aspects of Gra’s works specifically explaining what he meant etc. As is well known Gra wrote very concisely and many of his manuscripts were his personal notes not intended to be published making it very hard to understand what he was getting at. This is true for most of what he had written such as his Biur ha-Gra on Shulchan Orach which has been worked on by many like the Demsek Eliezer, as well as R. Kook and more recently R. Rakover. These works are extensive commentary to explain exactly what Gra meant. His notes on Shas have been worked on and collected by many different people as has been many of his other works. In this post I would like to focus on recent project and organization called Mechon Maatikei Hashemua. This project is devoted to printing all Gra’s Torah on Seder Zeraim. Recently this Mechon released their first publication, the works of Gra on the first Perek of Yerushalmi Bikurim.

Many years ago, a small team of people headed by R. Yedidah Frankel, began studying Seder Zeraim. There is no Bavli devoted to Seder Zeraim only Yerushalmi which makes studying this seder more difficult as we are accustom to the Bavli.  [Regarding the question of if a Bavli on Zeraim existed but is no longer extant, see the  incredible doctorate of Yakov Zussman.] One of the reasons why Yerushalmi in general is very hard to learn is because our printed editions contain numerous textual errors. Aside from lacking the Bavli, Zeraim is more difficult to study because it has only a handful of the commentaries of the Rishonim and Achronim. One of the reasons for it not having some many commentaries was because Seder Zeraim contains little in the way of practical halacha. During the Middle Ages, the main focus of learning was on practical halacha. Thus, Seder Zeraim, among othes, was rarely studied during this period.  Another reason for the dearth of commentaries is that the Yerushalmi was simply not available – many cities during Middle Ages did not have even a single copy. However, in the past century aside from the Yerushalmi becoming more available, this part of Torah became much more relevant in light of it becoming practical halacha. Thus, many more people are studying the Yerushalmi today.

Just to cite a simple example demonstrating this phenomena.  Two hundred years ago there was almost no works devoted to Shevius  (Shmitah), today with each shmitah dozens of works have been written perhaps in the hundreds already. Now that Zeraim is more relevant and more are studying it, the periush of anyone, and more so a super star like Gra, is extremely important. This organization took upon themselves to print Gra’s commentary on Zeraim. This work is not merely a reprint Gra’s commentary on Zeraim, rather it contains much more. Frist, they found the Yerushalmi that the Gra actually used and wrote notes in when learning Yerushalmi! After carefully going through it they mapped out a plan how to go about printing it. In the past few years both the methods and benefits of this find have been written up in various Torah publications amongst them Yeshurun and Moriea. A very in-depth article was printed in the book released from Bar Ilan on the Gra a few years back, HaGra Ubeis Medraso. In each of these articles R. Frankel shows the importance of this find and how it enlightens our understanding of complex Sugyos in Seder Zeraim.

The manuscript was authenticated by experts in Gra’s handwriting. The significance of this is we now more material to help us understand this complex seder which lacks seforim compared to other areas of Torah.

This beautiful edition is composed of many parts. First, they printed the Mishana with the Pirushim of the Rambam’s Pirish Lemishna, Rash mi-Shantz, and Rosh. To ensure accuracy of these texts, all known manuscripts of these commentaries were used, in a critical edition, with many excellent and useful footnotes. Additionally, in this section they also included the perush of Gra on Zeraim – Shenoes Eliyahu reworking it with new additions from manuscripts including notes.

For the second section they use the type from the Yerushalmi printed in Amsterdam that contains R. Eliyhu Mifulda’s work because this is the edition of the Yerushalmi that Gra used and wrote his notes on. In the footnotes, the editors compared this text of the Yerushalmi to other manuscripts. They also reworked the commentary of R. Eliyhu Mifulda adding in many notes to the text. This section also includes a commentary, Biurei ha-Gra. This commentary is from notes of students of Gra which had been printed before. Again, as with the other sections, there exists a few manuscripts of this work, all of which were used for this section. The editors also include many notes to explain this part. Additionally, this section also includes the complete version of Gra’s notes based on the manuscript of his Yerushalmi. These notes were printed a few times but only partially. However, in this edition each one is put in its proper place with different fonts to make it less confusing. This part also has notes to explain what Gra meant. However, not to confuse the user, Gra’s notes appear on the page in their proper places and an in-depth explanation is included after each daf.

After this section they have a part which is composed of in-depth discussion of Gra. For example, Gra, as mentioned above, wrote rather crypitically, and at times, at first glance when one looks at it you no idea what he was trying to say. This is especially true in Gra’s own notes as they was not meant for anyone other than himself. At times, the commentary contains no words just lines, circles, dashes which, as one would imagine, are especially difficult to decipher. The only way one can properly understand  Gra is to have a great understanding of the whole sugyah. Now the whole sugyah means the comparative texts of  other sifrei chazal such as Bavli, Sifra, Sifri, and Mechilta. One also has to have a command of all the Rishonim on the particular Sugyah. This team spent a very long time going through each sugyah with great depth they presented their finds in this section. They did a excellent job of presenting the material they found in a clear and concise manner. The use charts at times and as many works as necessary to get to the bottom of the issues whether it means consulting critical editions or manuscripts of Chazal or Rishonim, dictionaries for the meaning of a word, rishonim and the works of the main achronim. After reading through each chapter in this section they explain exactly what Gra was trying to do, when one sees it one is just amazed to see what Gra meant with just a few words or dashes.

 

To explain what drives Gra to write in such a cryptic manner. The only reason why one is allowed to write Torah is because of a heter of עת לעשות לה’  that one will forget. Gra was not scared that he would forget so he just wrote very shorthand to remind him of what how he understand the Sugyah. I also assumed this was yet another legend that they say about Gra, but when one looks at this Yerushalmi where they reproduced the pages with Gra’s notes one can see this very clearly its no legend. The pages are full of dots, cross outs, circles, dashes and one word here and there. To the untrained eye it looks like nothing. This Mechon has shown the incredible wisdom behind each one of those markings. Another Godol who used this style of Gra was R. Nosson Adler. R. Auerbach famous for the Eshkol printed these notes also they were one word here and there lines dashes and he explained them. People accused Auerbach of forging this work too but I believe it has been proven that it is an Authentic work. See Hurowitz, Rabbanei Frankfurt (pp. 151-152). R. Chanoach Erentru brings from his Rebbe,  R. Fevel Palut, a student of the Chasam Sofer the following:

ר’ נתן אדלר אמר שהתירו לכתוב את התורה שבעל פה רק מפני החשש שמא תשכח התורה מישראל לפי זה אמר אין הוא רשאי להשתמש בהתיר זה כי אין הוא שוכח דבר. ואמר עליו שלא רק  שידע את כל התלמוד בעל פה אלא גם מעולם לא שכח דבר מכל ספרות הראשונים (עיונים בדברי חז”ל ובלשונם, עמ’ סו).

In the last section of this work they show exactly what Gra wrote and each of Gra’s notes, big or small, are reproduced in a high quality picture and blown up they than write underneath each photo exactly what they believe Gra was doing. This section at times due to spilling of ink and other problems they could not read some of the writing in the orginal manuscript they than consulted with the the Israeli police department to read some of the comments with infrared magnifiers. They even were helped by NASA to read some particularly difficult parts! I would assume this is the first time they were consulted for help in printing a rabbinical text.

This work is a labor of love as it is obvious from going through it. In the past bunch of years I do not recall any sefer that shows such meticulous preparation for publication. One can see how much the editor R. Frankel believes in the importance of his project. It is printed on beautiful paper, the the size of the volume is very tall making it very usable. The fonts and print of each page are also very well done making it not only beautiful in content but matching in looks. The editor was helped by a very small team of people who mastered Seder Zeraim over years of learning through it as did he. It took many years for this volume to be printed and it is a small part of the whole seder Zeraim very large sums of money were spent to get the project going but it still requires more to complete the project. For more information on purchasing this volume or helping with this project contact them at yedidiyah@hotmail.com. See also here.

I wish them much luck in completing this very special important project.