Slobodka

Slobodka

By Dr. Shlomo Tikochinski

Seforim Blog Editors: In 2016, Dr. Tikochinski published his work Lamdanut, Mussar, and Elitism (Mercaz Shazar, in Hebrew). Thanks to new translation tools, the process has become much easier. We will be posting a chapter of this work every week or two. As this is a work in progress, we appreciate your patience.

Introduction:

  • What, in its deepest sense, is the Slabodka doctrine of Gadlut ha-Adam—the greatness and nobility of the human being?

  • How did this idea take root in Lithuania and shape the spirit of an entire generation of yeshivot?

  • What role did Slabodka play within the Mussar movement, and in what ways did its path diverge from that of Kelm, its stark and disciplined counterpart?

  • And finally: does the legacy of Slabodka still echo in our own time, and if so—how?

The first part of this book sets out to explore these questions, tracing the origins of a daring educational vision and following the imprint it left on the world of Torah and beyond.

This work was originally submitted in Hebrew back in 2009.
In the years since, it found its way into print—also in Hebrew—under the title Lamdanut, Mussar and Elitism, published by the Shazar Center in 2016. Still, the present draft contains a great deal of material that never made it into the final book.

Over the years, many people have expressed interest in the world of the Lithuanian yeshivot and in the themes explored here. With the arrival of new translation technologies, I felt that the time had finally come to bring this research into English. I used these tools as a starting point, but every line has been reviewed with as much personal care and attention as I could give.

What you are holding now is the first part of the work—the chapter of the yeshiva’s life in Lithuania, before its move to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel). The second part will follow in due course, shaped also by your observations, suggestions, and encouragement.

Since English is not my first language, I would be sincerely grateful for any corrections or comments you may wish to share. I will update the text continuously, and every thoughtful note will help make this translation clearer and more faithful.

Thank you for taking the time to read this early version. I hope you find the journey both meaningful and enriching.

Rabbiner Dr. Shlomo Tikochinski
Jüdische Gemeinde St. Gallen, Switzerland
41767107403+
shlomotiko@gmail.com

Preface to the English Edition, 2025

The roots of my family on my father’s side lie deep in the soil of Lithuanian Jewry and its yeshivot — a lineage of rabbis, heads of yeshivot, and figures shaped by the Mussar movement. My father, Rabbi Rafael Tikochinski, z”l, was himself an extraordinary masmid, who later became a teacher and a rosh yeshiva to hundreds of students. I grew up in this world, surrounded by its voices, its teachers, and its inner rhythms. After years of study in yeshivot and kollels—among them the Ponovezh Yeshiva in Bnei Brak, under the shadow of Rabbi Shach z”l —I gradually found myself drawn toward the humanities, especially Jewish Studies, with a particular interest in Jewish philosophy and Jewish history. And so, at the age of thirty-two, I arrived at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

After several years of general coursework and the gradual acquisition of methodological tools, I turned—at the advice of my teachers—to examine the world from which I had come: Lithuanian Jewry, the Lithuanian yeshivot, the Mussar movement, and the intellectual and sociological roots of today’s Lithuanian Haredi community.

I wrote my master’s thesis on the formation of the Lithuanian yeshiva method of Talmudic analysis, and my doctoral dissertation on the educational method of the yeshivot, rooted in the Mussar movement.

Over time I came to see the principles of Mussar education as both significant and influential—almost the only platform that still shapes the religious experience and conceptual world of students in Lithuanian yeshivot today, even if we have long drifted from the original intentions of the movement’s founders.

Kenesset Yisrael—the Slobodka Yeshiva founded by Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel, the Alter of Slobodka—was the pioneering Mussar yeshiva in Lithuania. And because it was the first to arrive in the Land of Israel in an organized way before the Holocaust, it preserved an unbroken line of “Lithuanianness” and, in my view, left a profound and lasting imprint on the renewed yeshiva world in Israel.

I grew up in the shadow of educators who were among the last living echoes of the Mussar movement. My great-uncle, Rabbi Moshe Tikochinski, the mashgiach of the Slobodka Yeshiva in Bnei Brak, and Rabbi Chaim Fridlender of the Ponovezh Yeshiva, shaped much of the atmosphere of my youth. I had the privilege of hearing Mussar talks — shmuessen — from figures whose voices once filled entire worlds: Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, Rabbi Yaakov Galinsky, Rabbi Moshe Shimon Waintrob, Rabbi David Avrahami, Rabbi Dan Segal, Rabbi Shimshon Pinkus, Rabbi Shalom Shvadron, and other Mashgichim and preachers, famous or lesser known, each with his unique cadence.

During my years in the Ponovezh Yeshiva, I listened to the aged Rabbi David Povarsky, who brought us, as if by direct transmission, the spirit of his old home in Kelm, Lithuania. From my teacher my father , I absorbed talks shaped by the teachings of his own master, Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler, author of Mikhtav me-Eliyahu.

Like many other students in Lithuanian yeshivot in Israel, the foundations of my education and Torah outlook were formed out of ideas that flowed from the Mussar tradition — though at the time I had no name for them. Around the age of twenty, I too became a Mussarnik of the old school. For several years, I held fast to that way. I studied Mussar with strong emotion — “with the excitement of the soul, with a ready heart, with a pained voice, with burning lips,” as the early disciples of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter taught. I recited long, fervent prayers and joined a Mussar va’ad of earnest young men who were serious practitioners. Our meetings revolved around shared spiritual introspection and the taking on of kabbalot — personal spiritual commitments.

During those years, I also delivered Mussar talks to a small circle of attentive friends, until I became, almost without noticing, a kind of spiritual guide for students younger than myself.

Something of that deep, formative experience — and of the quiet inner currents that flowed through it — remained within me even years later, when my path turned toward academic study. Paradoxically, it was my very attachment to the Mussar world that eventually guided me into the field of Jewish Studies. When I first encountered Immanuel Etkes’s book on Rabbi Yisrael Salanter and the beginnings of the movement, I found myself unexpectedly moved. The scholarly gaze — its ability to look closely, to refine, to name, to offer perspective and historical setting to feelings and ideas I had known from such close range — opened a new window for me.

This brief autobiographical note may explain why the reader will find in the present work a structure slightly different from that found in other studies of the Mussar movement, and conclusions that lean in directions not always identical to theirs.

I wish to express my thanks to my teachers and mentors — from the yeshivot and from the academy — and to the many friends and colleagues who have accompanied me. My gratitude goes in particular to my teacher, Professor Immanuel Etkes, to Rabbi Professor Naftali Rothenberg, Professor Avi Ravitzki, and Professor Benjamin Brown, who has followed my research for many years with steady wisdom and generous counsel.

Introduction

On Mussar and the Development of the Mussar Movement within the Lithuanian Yeshiva World

The Hebrew term Mussar (מוּסָר) is commonly translated as “Moral” or “ethics,” reflecting its biblical usage (e.g., Prov. 1:2: “to receive wisdom and Mussar,” meaning instruction or reproof). The Mussar cultivated in nineteenth-century Lithuanian Jewry, however, represents a later and fundamentally different development. Conceived by Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (1810–1883), it was primarily a rigorous system of self-education grounded in Torah learning, aimed at intensifying yirat shamayim (fear of Heaven) and refining one’s character traits. This system articulated a structured set of principles concerning human psychology and conduct, drawing on rabbinic aggadah, homiletic literature, and the classical Jewish ethical corpus. Accordingly, the overlap between Mussar and the English category “Mussar” is only partial. While the cultivation of positive traits, commitment to ethical values, aspiration toward good action, and continuous self-supervision form an important conceptual backdrop, the actual goal is specifically religious: the deepening of fear of Heaven within the Jewish framework of Torah and halakhah.

A further methodological observation is essential. The now-familiar designation “Mussar Movement” (Tenuʿat ha-Mussar) appears to have been consolidated only in the post-Holocaust period, chiefly through Israeli writers such as Rabbi Dov Katz, whose multi-volume Tenuʿat ha-Mussar (Jerusalem 1957) became authoritative and is cited throughout this study. For this reason, when referring to this modern term, I do not employ the diasporic milʿel vocalization. Likewise, in construct expressions such as sifrut Mussar (Mussar literature) or sifrei Mussar (Mussar texts), I retain the standard Hebrew usage, as these terms already designate an established genre within the Jewish textual tradition.

Lithuanian Mussar emerged in the 1840s against the backdrop of far-reaching processes of modernity within Eastern European Jewry. As with other contemporary spiritual movements, it constituted both a conscious and subconscious response to Jewish modernization as well as to modernity itself, which reshaped the structures of Jewish life. Some scholars view Mussar as a form of religious renaissance within the Mitnagdic (non-Hasidic) Orthodox world, developed in contrast to Hasidism, which had arisen several decades earlier. Just as Hasidism introduced its own spiritual revolution, the Mussar Movement placed new spiritual challenges on the Jewish agenda, emphasizing tikkun adam—the Mussar and religious transformation of the individual—rather than tikkun olam. Scholarly opinion is divided on whether Mussar should be understood chiefly as a reaction to modernity or as an internal religious renewal focused on individual divine service.

Mussar entered the Lithuanian yeshiva system only in the second and third generations after Rabbi Salanter. From that point onward it became a structured pedagogical method for thousands of students across the Pale of Settlement. By then, three major schools had crystallized—Kelm, Slobodka, and Novardok—each interpreting Salanter’s teachings in its own way and implementing its distinctive program of Mussar education and supervision.

The Lithuanian yeshivot functioned essentially as advanced academies of Talmudic study. They placed intellectual rigor at the center of their curriculum and cultivated competitiveness and excellence in analytic study of the Talmud and its commentaries. Yet as traditional communal structures eroded in the early twentieth century, the yeshivot gradually became institutions of religious socialization and guardians of tradition. This role was carried out by Mussar educators, each shaped by the ideas of his own school. Even students who did not fully engage in intensive Mussar practice could acquire a broad foundation in Lithuanian Jewish thought, which provided spiritual resources, interpretive methods, and modes of reflection on aggadic texts. Much of the intellectual production of the Lithuanian yeshivot from the late nineteenth century through the mid-twentieth century centered on developing a homiletical-philosophical discourse that drew ethical meaning from biblical narratives and rabbinic aggadah.

This heritage shaped the inner world of the Lithuanian yeshiva student and stood at the heart of his consciousness of distinctiveness—both from other Orthodox groups and, all the more so, from the largely secular Jewish majority. The interpretive study of aggadah through the lens of Mussar strengthened spiritual aspiration, reinforced a sense of belonging to an Orthodox avant-garde, and instilled confidence in the necessity and significance of the yeshiva way of life. This is no small matter: throughout the twentieth century, the influence of the yeshiva world steadily expanded and penetrated other streams of Orthodoxy. Mussar educators and thinkers became influential role models, shaping the worldview of thousands of Haredi youths who adopted their interpretive approach to Jewish ethical and aggadic traditions. The result is a distinctive school of Jewish thought unique to the students and graduates of the Lithuanian yeshivot—one they continued to develop even after leaving the yeshiva, and which they transmitted to the next generation.

Guiding Ideas and Foundational Assumptions

The Mussar movement, which was created in Lithuania in the 1840s, began to conquer the Lithuanian yeshivot at the end of the nineteenth century, and the yeshiva in Slobodka was one of the leaders of the process. In the Mussar controversy that stirred up the Jewish public in Russia in the 1890s, this yeshiva was in the eye of the storm. With the passage of the crisis, the Knesset Israel Yeshiva became one of the most famous and influential yeshivas in Lithuania. In both Lithuania and the Land of Israel, it was considered a prestigious and leading yeshiva. And in the eyes of many, even the heir to the famous Volozhin Yeshiva.

At the end of 1924, the yeshiva immigrated to Eretz Israel, first settled in Hebron and after the 1929 riots moved to Jerusalem. From the perspective of the Jewish Yishuv in the Land of Israel during the British Mandate, Slobodka was a new element that had hitherto been unknown in the Orthodox community. Torah learners identified with the old Yishuv, which was perceived as a symbol of decadence. The Mussar Lithuanian yeshiva represented the alternative, in the form of an opinionated Torah elite that was interested in maintaining proper relations with the new Yishuv, and around it developed a community with a Yeshiva identity that combined Torah with practical life.

The starting point for our discussion is the establishment of the yeshiva in 1882, and we will review its various stages and crises, at the turn of the centuries, during the First War, and in the Land of Israel. There will be two sections in the essay: The first will deal with the formative period in Lithuania and will discuss structural, ideological, and especially educational-social aspects of Rabbi Finkel’s yeshiva. The second division will deal with the immigration and absorption of the yeshiva in the Land of Israel, in its various branches, while examining its relations with the old and new settlements and its status as a unique entity. We will conclude the discussion with a snapshot of the Lithuanian Yeshiva institution in the State of Israel in the early 1950s, as a milestone that concludes the period of the yeshiva’s uniqueness. From then on, it merged into the Haredi yeshiva establishment in Israel, with expansion and change in the structure and educational challenges. Numerical growth, the absorption of immigrant students from Sephardic countries, the change of generations in leadership, and the confrontation with secular political sovereignty – these and more characterized the era that concludes the connection.

As noted above, in the first half of the twentieth century, the Lithuanian Yeshiva and the Mussar Movement were two entities that merged with each other, with the first being the type of institution, and the second being the method of education used in it. During this period, there were few yeshivot that did not introduce Mussar education, and at the same time, there were few bodies of the non-yeshiva Mussar movement.

The rise of the Mussar yeshivot to Israel is an important chapter in the history of yeshivot and Orthodoxy in general. In addition to the implications that this had on the way and methods of the yeshiva institution, in the Land of Israel the Lithuanian yeshiva became a central model that was also adopted by Hasidim, Sephardim, and national religious. Its educational heritage and the ethos that underlies it radiate to this day on the entire Orthodoxy, the fields of spirituality, education, and even the field of halakha. It seems that understanding the process of absorption and consolidation of this institution in the Land of Israel, It is the key to understanding the roots of the religious world in today’s Israel.

Why Slobodka? A few answers to this:

The focus of this yeshiva stems from observing the Israeli yeshiva world and its founders, and tracing its contemporary educational positions. The impression is that among the schools that made up the Lithuanian Mussar movement, the only one that remained active in the second half of the twentieth century was Slobodka, and its influence on the educational ethos of the post-Holocaust yeshiva world is considerable. Most of the leading figures in the yeshiva world after the Holocaust came out of this yeshiva, both in Israel and in the United States. There are two possible reasons for this: first, that it was a single case of the transfer of a yeshiva with its rabbis and students from Lithuania to the Land of Israel, and thus it was saved from destruction. Second, Slobodka’s education contained elements that ensured survival and integration in a changing world, namely Jewish society in Lithuania between the wars and the emerging society in the new settlement in the Land of Israel. My work will seek to examine these elements, and through them explain Slobodka’s decisive influence on the formation of the Israeli yeshiva world. I will try to show that, in contrast to other streams of ethics, Like Kelm and Novardok, Slobodka incorporated certain elements of modernity into the realms of thought and behavior.

The story of the relocation of the Lithuanian yeshiva and the Mussar movement to the Land of Israel is composed of groups and individuals who immigrated to Israel at different times and under different circumstances. A group of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s close disciples immigrated back in the 1890s and established the Jerusalem Beit Mussar and the Or Chadash Yeshiva in the Strois Courtyard (today in the Musrara neighborhood). This was the “first aliyah” of the Mussar movement, which belongs to the old type of traditional immigrants who sought a life of Torah and celibacy in the Holy Land. This small Mussar core dispersed even before the First World War, and its people merged into the institutions of the Old Yishuv.

After the First War and the Balfour Declaration, the wave of immigration of the Mussar yeshivot began, the Slobodka Yeshiva in 1924, the nucleus of the Lomza Yeshiva (Poland) in 1926, and in the early 1930s – the nuclei of the Novradok network. This was the “second aliyah” of the Mussar movement, which, in terms of consciousness and goals, was already part of the patterns that characterized the Fourth and Fifth Aliyah. The reference environment of this Haredi aliyah was the new Yishuv, and it chose to merge into the new colonies precisely. From here until the end of the 1940s, additional groups and a few members of the Mussar movement immigrated to Israel. Among them were Holocaust refugees, who, together with their predecessors, became the inheritors of Mussar education in the renewed yeshiva world in Israel. A comprehensive discussion of the question of the absorption of the Mussar movement in Israel requires reference to the personalities who were known as Mussar influencers in the country, the rabbis: Lupian, Dessler, Levinstein, Wolbe and others. However, these Mussar figures and their teachings, even if their influence in the long run was great, will not be included in the discussion. I want to remain within the boundaries of the Yeshiva Mussar establishment, while examining the history of an institution that immigrated to Israel in an organized manner, as an educational framework with defined goals for institutionalization, continuity and influence in the new Yishuv.

For this purpose, I asked for a Mussar yeshiva that was born in Lithuania, which chose to relocate and cope with a new space of action. Preference was given to the institution, which, even after its relocation, maintained as much continuity as possible, while embodying its original values in its new place, but in a different way. If we look at the Mussar movement and its yeshivot in the twentieth century, we have nothing but the Slobodkian yeshiva Knesset Yisrael that meets our demands.

3. The assumption underlying our work is that there is a constant tension between the study of Talmud, or more precisely, scholarship as a challenge and a symbol of status, and the study of ethics and the self-education that it entails. At the beginning of the path of ethics in the yeshivot, this tension led to open struggles, but it continued to exist in the background even after the resistance had subsided. A covert struggle over the birthright nourished the dynamic between students and their rabbis and between students and their yeshiva, when they studied there and even after they left it.

Against this background, Slobodka can be noted as a yeshiva that for most of its periods fostered scholarship and even managed to concentrate the best young forces in its environment. In the study of Mussar, Slobodka took an optimistic line, focused on the theoretical-philosophical aspect of it, and disapproved of the asceticism and melancholy that accompanied it. Its opponents claimed that she had “created a vacuum” in Mussar and dealt only with “education in the brain” and the like, because she saw Mussar as internalizing ideas and neutralizing its demanding sting. With the move to Eretz Yisrael, this approach became apparent to be an advantage. At that time, the optimistic-adaptive elements that were embedded in Slobodka’s philosophy and character were expressed, and out of a sense of solidarity with the Aliyah and settlement enterprise, she approached it from within in her own way. Fostering excellence and education for inclusion were the basic principles of Slobodka Eretz Israel, and most of its graduates were integrated into positions of education and rabbinate and other positions of influence. Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s special interpretation of the Mussar teachings ensured its survival under the new conditions dictated by the Yishuv of the Land of Israel during the Mandate period and in the early days of the state.

It should be noted that this is in fact an existing institution, which, with the exception of the institutions of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem, is the oldest Lithuanian yeshiva in Israel and the world today. It can be said that since its establishment in 1882, the Knesset Israel Yeshiva has led an almost continuous elitist line. Rabbi Finkel was meticulous in choosing the students for his yeshiva, and with Mussar education at the top of his mind, he invested efforts and even succeeded in concentrating intellectual forces and renowned scholars in his yeshiva. It is a fact that despite the student Revolts and divisions, the exile in Ukraine during the First War, the move to Palestine, the 1929 riots, economic crises and internal control struggles, the yeshiva maintained its status and produced prominent leaders from the Orthodox world.

In contrast to Slobodka, the Novardok school is presented, which led a pessimistic line in the Mussar movement, and preached extreme actions of breaking the inclination. In Torah study, too, the theoretical aspect gave way to the study of halakha in practice and grammar in mitzvot. Novardok prioritized the activity of “acquitting the public” and opened many branches, first in Russia and then in Poland. In the late 1920s, she arrived in the Land of Israel and established branches in Tel Aviv and Bnei Brak. However, Novardok did not survive the move to Israel. Most of its students have abandoned, and some have even left the tradition. If in Lithuania the difference between Novardok and Slobodka was limited to the method of education, in the Mandatory Land of Israel it received additional meanings that had implications for the future of the Lithuanian yeshiva. Slobodka’s path turned out to be more suitable for the new environment, and elements of her Mussar thought found their way into the Haredi education system.

The accepted assumption is that the Yeshivot of the Mussar Movement succeeded in curbing the influence of the Enlightenment and Zionism, in addition to other yeshivot that did not belong to this movement. This assumption is true only for Lithuania between the wars, and it derives from the image that emerged of the Mussar Movement in literature and research, which was greatly influenced by the extreme and severe nature of the Mussar yeshivot, the aforementioned Nobardok. With regard to the Land of Israel, things are quite different. In this essay, I would like to present Slobodka as someone who survived and withstood the challenges presented by the new environment. Precisely because of the adoption of a modern way of thinking and thanks to a certain contact with education.

We will leave the rest of the Lithuanian yeshivot that had established a foothold in Israel – we will leave them out of the discussion, and we will refer to them only for the sake of comparison. It should be noted that after the yeshiva immigrated in 1924, the Slobodka Yeshiva in Lithuania was reorganized under the leadership of the rabbis: Sher, Zusmanovich and Grodzinsky. Rabbi Sher led his yeshiva in an independent way and different from that of his rabbi and father-in-law, Rabbi Finkel, as did the mashgiach Rabbi Grodzinsky. Before the outbreak of World War II, Rabbi Sher managed to escape. And in 1947 he established a yeshiva in Bnei Brak that bears the name ‘Slobodka’ to this day. From the beginning, this yeshiva was attended by young people born in Israel, mainly of Hasidic origin and even members of the old Yishuv. Based on close acquaintance with her and her supervisor, Rabbi Moshe Tikoczinsky, and from interviews with her alumni, it seems that this was not a continuation of Slobodka’s method in any sense, and that there is nothing between the two but the sharing of God’s name. Therefore, it will also remain outside of our discussion.

Research Questions

The focus of the essay will be the question of relocation: a method of education that was a clear product of time and place, was relocated to a new and different place, and tried to survive and even influence its new environment. Questions of continuity versus change are key questions in every field in the study of the history of the modern era. All the more so when it comes to an educational framework that has fundamentally changed its operating environment. The question is most intense when we are dealing with a religious institution that is imbued with a consciousness of continuity and even declares it. But he wants to function under changing conditions. From this question all the sub-questions relating to the two divisions of the composition will be derived: the period of Lithuania and the period of Eretz Yisrael, with the period of transition and adjustment between them. The yeshiva is required as an educational institution that manages a system of relations with its environment, while examining its goals, mechanisms of social supervision and social deviance, and discussing questions of authority and autonomy within the system.

We will first deal with the formative stage of Slobodka, in which her unique social structure was formed. An examination of the conceptual roots of this structure will contribute to an understanding of the process of copying and the changes that followed. The starting point is Rabbi Finkel’s educational philosophy, which became known as “the greatness of man”, we will examine its uniqueness in comparison to other streams of Mussar, its attitude and response to modernity, and its possible connections to contemporary ideals. No less important is Rabbi Finkel’s complex educational act. His status and influence in the yeshiva, the nature of his relations with his students, and the nature of the student community in Slobodka. We will dedicate a special discussion to Slobodkai ethics as an exegetical method of rabbinic legends, in the light of which ideas and patterns of outlook that are prevalent to this day in Haredi educational thought have been formulated. We will also discuss Rabbi Finkel’s attitude toward the Enlightenment and secular studies, Zionism, and the Land of Israel, especially in light of the fact that some of his close students became prominent leaders who combined Torah and ethics with Western education and culture. These include: the heads of the Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin, Rabbi Avraham Eliyahu Kaplan and Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, and in America – Rabbis Yitzhak Hutner, Yaakov Kamenetsky, and Yaakov Ruderman. Through these personalities, Slobodka became a bridge between Mussar and modern orthodoxy in all its varieties.

The chapter on Aliyah to Eretz Israel presents us with central questions: What was the social and political background to Aliyah? What aspirations motivated the yeshiva’s leaders and students, and what was the significance of the move in the world of Lithuanian yeshivot? We will try to find the connection between Slobodka’s unique character and her being the first yeshiva to initiate organized aliyah. Why did Slobodka see the “new Yishuv” as a natural goal, and what were her expectations and the quality of her relations with the Yishuv before and after Aliyah?

The chapter on the establishment in Israel is the last in chronological order, but the first in importance for understanding the roots of the Israeli yeshiva world. How did the yeshiva adapt to the new environment, and what was the social and economic framework within which it functioned? In the field of Mussar education, the environment in the Land of Israel presented more difficult challenges than those that were the lot of Slobodka in Lithuania. We will find out how the new environment influenced the study and Mussar, the educational ethos of the yeshiva, and the policy of the management. We will examine the emotional and practical involvement of yeshiva students in the life of the Yishuv, its struggles, and even its ways and culture. This issue is of great importance for understanding the process of formulating a Yishuvite-Lithuanian identity in the Land of Israel, the fruits of which are evident to this day.

We will also examine the relationship between the yeshiva and the old Yishuv in Jerusalem, especially after the events of 1929 and the relocation of the yeshiva from Hebron to Jerusalem. These were the days of a fierce struggle between extremists and moderates in the Old Yishuv, which led to a split of powers between the “Haredi Community” and the “Agudat Yisrael.” At the center of the debate was the recognition of the National Committee and its leadership, and the “obligation to leave” the Knesset that was introduced in the Old Yishuv. The Aliyah Yeshiva took place between two decisive events in the struggle between the old and the new: the murder of De Haan, the powerful political figure of Agudat Yisrael Eretz Yisrael, took place right next to Slobodka’s immigration. and the establishment of the Hebrew University – immediately afterwards. Both extremists and moderates had political expectations of the Slobodka Yeshiva, but the official line of the yeshiva was to refrain from political identification and from involvement in struggles of any kind.

The organizations of the yeshiva’s graduates and their activities within the Yishuv will be presented as a final stage, which expressed the characteristics of Slobodka’s education and its ability to stand the test of time. The discussion will take place in light of the gaps that arose on this issue between the yeshiva’s students and its rabbis, which were expressed in its two branches of the Land of Israel: Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Another point: In Lithuania, Slobodka was a center of attraction for young people from the rabbinical elite, as well as from the wealthy economic strata from Western countries. In the Land of Israel, the yeshiva opened its ranks to all the young people of the Yishuv. And we will seek to examine the change in the yeshiva’s social and educational messages in light of this change. The concluding discussion will return to the key question: Slobodka’s response in idea and action to the challenges of modernity, and the question of her resilience to the crises and transitions she experienced in the twentieth century.

Methodology and State of Research

The study of the Lithuanian Yeshiva and the Mussar movement touches on the following areas of research: social history, history of ideas, history and philosophy of education. The state of the research that we will present here will teach us that there is still a lot of work to be done in the study of the Lithuanian yeshiva and the Mussar yeshivot in the twentieth century, and many important topics in this field have not yet been studied.

The history of Jewish society in Eastern Europe in the modern era has been dealt with in the study mainly with a focus on the main changes that this society has experienced, which is collectively known as the “crisis of modernity,” centered on the process of abandonment of tradition and observance. The transition to the modern era gave birth, among other things, to the interest in the history of the ‘Old World’, from a critical perspective that is also a product of modernity. The traditional society, which remained in the minority, was studied mainly from social and economic aspects, and less from ideological and spiritual aspects. In these fields, it was perceived as the abandoned starting point, as the old ‘obvious’ whose methods and beliefs are known and do not arouse research interest. In the last thirty years, research has also begun to deal with the inner spiritual world of traditional society in modern times, as a developing and creative environment. However, the research’s tendency toward the transformational, the new and the changing, still left the picture unbalanced. The main attention was given to the Chassidic movement, with its various aspects: historical, social, ideological, and theological, while the society that held on to the old and known as the Mitnagdic Society, with its yeshivot and its Mussar movement, has not yet been sufficiently enlightened and few are engaged in it. A handful of scholars of the spiritual world in the opposing society have so far produced a small but very important crop, the main points of which we will present here, and the details of which are included in the full bibliographic list.

The existing research in this area extends over three sequential fields:

The teachings of the Vilna Gaon and his disciple R. Chaim of Volozhin,

The study of the Lithuanian Mussar movement.

The study of the Lithuanian yeshiva.

The teachings of the Vilna Gaon and his disciple Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin were handled by Immanuel Etkes, Nahum Lam, Shaul Stampfer, Tamar Ross, and others. The characteristics of the opposing ideology were reviewed in Alan Nadler’s book The Faith of the Mithnagdim. The activities of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter and the beginning of the Mussar movement were also investigated by Immanuel Etkes in his book R. Yisrael Salanter and the Beginnings of the Mussar Movement (Jerusalem 1982). Mordechai Pachter analyzed Rabbi Salanter’s teachings in the introduction to the edition of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s Writings (Jerusalem 1973). A few articles on the world of ethics were written by Haim Hillel Ben-Sasson, Gedaliah Alon, Hillel Goldberg, and David Fishman. The methods of study in the yeshivot were reviewed in Mordechai Breuer’s book Ohalei Torah (2004), and the literature of memoirs from the Lithuanian yeshivot was reviewed by Immanuel Etkes in the introduction to the collection “The Lithuanian Yeshivot – Chapters of Memories.” Shaul Stampfer’s book “The Lithuanian Yeshiva in the Making” (Jerusalem 2004) deals with the yeshivot of Volozhin, Slobodka and Telz, and focuses on their structural and organizational aspects in their early years. This book, as well as Ross and Brown’s studies on the Mussar movement, will be discussed in more detail below.

A comprehensive study has not yet been written on the history of the Mussar movement from a socio-historical perspective, its spread and scope of activity, its central figures, and their spheres of influence. The only monograph that exists in this field so far is Dov Katz’s series of books, The Mussar Movement, which, despite its fine and practical writing, is not an academic study, but rather an informative one. Nothing has yet been written about the Lithuanian yeshivot between the wars, most of which were “Mussar yeshivas” at the time. The method of study that was introduced in these yeshivot, the balance of power between scholarship and Mussar, influential figures in study and Mussar, and their method – all of these are still waiting for study. The history of the Mussar movement in the Land of Israel has not yet been touched by anyone, neither with the immigration of the Disciples of Kelm to the Old Yishuv, nor with the rise of the Mussar yeshivot in the twentieth century. In general, many important issues related to the Lithuanian yeshiva are still waiting to be addressed, especially the inner world of the yeshiva. From a variety of aspects: Academic, educational and social, central figures, streams and methods of study.

This essay tries to fill in the gaps a little. As noted, we will discuss the Slobodka Yeshiva from educational-social aspects, on the assumption that the influence and continuity of the Mussar yeshivot was first and foremost the result of a social reality and an implemented educational ideal, while the contribution of the Mussar literary work was only secondary, and in some places even minimal.

Tamar Ross wrote a theoretical-philosophical study on the teachings of some of the successors of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter. In the introduction to her research, she declares that her research is the result of arbitrary selection and subjective evaluation in the choice of material. She admits that relying on the writings of the Mussar movement, while ignoring the historical aspect, is liable to lead to conclusions that sin against the original intention of their perpetrators.

On the other hand, the premise of my work is that the Mussar movement was first and foremost a living and breathing educational arena of action, and not just an ideological stream. Moreover, without an examination of the educational act and its areas of activity, our understanding of the theoretical realm would also be lacking. This is even more true with regard to the Slobodak doctrine of Mussar, which, as I would like to argue, was more of an educational environment than a conceptual one, and a discussion of its ideas cannot be conducted in isolation from its historical context. From this perspective, These studies are a complementary contrast to Ross’s research, whose focus on the theoretical and philosophical aspect of the Mussar movement, and according to the criteria she set for the study of the “problem of will,” placed Slobodka out of the picture, due to her lack of engagement with the psychological aspect.[1] On the other hand, I would like to devote attention to Slobodka, whose historical-social aspect is what made it an influential school of thought in the yeshiva world of the twentieth century.

Shaul Stampfer’s pioneering book[2] serves as an initial background for the Lithuanian yeshiva in general and the Slobodka Yeshiva in particular. Stampfer lists the differences between Volozhin in its time and[3] Slobodka between 1881 and 1905. He was already preceded by the people of Slobodka themselves, who noted their yeshiva as the successor of Volozhin, and at the same time were aware of the differences between the two.[4] Volozhyn, at least in the first half of the nineteenth century, functioned in a supportive traditional environment, where there was still widespread agreement on the importance of Torah study. In contrast, Slobodka in its time faced indifference to Torah study and tradition in general. At the end of the nineteenth century, young Jews were offered alternatives that appealed to them, such as membership in revolutionary movements, and opportunities to integrate into society through general studies and education. Against these, the Lithuanian yeshiva was redesigned. No longer just as a beit midrash for Torah study, but rather as a place that saw its role in responding to the renewed challenges, by shaping the student’s personality in the spirit of the Mussar movement.[5]

In addition to these differences, however, there have been changes in the status of the yeshiva within traditional society, about which the Slobodka Jews did not give their opinion. Here comes Stampfer and completes the picture: while Volozhin at the time expressed values that were familiar to her students from their communities of origin, Slobodka tried to instill in her students an ideology that was new to them and that she did not know from their parents’ home. Moreover, while Volozhin enjoyed the full support of the rabbinical establishment for most of her years, Slobodka did not receive a similar status. Its affiliation with the Mussar movement, which was controversial among the rabbis, placed its on the margins of the traditional stream.[6]mThese are important distinctions that relate to Slobodka as a pioneer and representative of the Mussar yeshivot, and it should be remembered that they are not unique to her. The lack of support from the rabbinical establishment in Lithuania is a common fact for all the institutions that were conducted in the spirit of Mussar, such as the Kollel Kaunas, the Kollel of Rabbi Yozel in Novogrodek and its environs, the Beit Talmud in Kelm, and more.

Stampfer’s interest is in Slobodka’s structural innovations as a pioneer of ethics yeshivot. In the comparative discussion with the Volozhin Yeshiva, he emphasizes the struggle for primacy between the study of Mussar and the study of the Talmud, a struggle that was one of the causes of the division of the yeshiva in 1897. However, Stampfer’s focus on the organizational level left room for many other aspects of the Slobodka Yeshiva: its innovations in the landscape of the Mussar movement itself, its ideological innovations that contributed to the world of Jewish thought, the educational practice it led, the goals it set for itself, and its comprehensive activity among the Lithuanian yeshivas. All these characteristics characterized the yeshiva from its inception, but mainly between the two world wars, a period that was not handled by Stampfer.

Moreover, Stampfer first put the subject of the Mussar yeshiva on the research table, explained the historical background to its establishment, and described the challenges of modernity that it sought to face. In this sense, Slobodka should indeed be seen as a prototype. However, this is not enough, because it too arose not only against the background of external challenges, but also and mainly against the background of developments that took place in the Mussar movement. Rabbi Finkel shaped his concept of Mussar from within and into the world of young learners. From his conversations with his students, both public and private, it is clear that he took yeshiva life for granted, and on this basis he demanded Mussar demands from them. In contrast to her ideological forefathers in the Mussar movement, Slobodka reformulated the goals of Mussar education, and in light of this, she laid a new agenda on both the table of the Mussar movement and the Lithuanian yeshiva as an institution. I would like to give expression to this argument in my work.

Benjamin Brown analyzed some of the writings of the Mussar figures, as Jewish thinkers in modern times. His relevant article deals with Rabbi Finkel’s educational philosophy,[7] focusing on its philosophical aspect. Brown suggests that it responded to the challenges of the European “zeitgeist” that placed man at the center, and did so by emphasizing his supernatural virtue and theological status. According to him, Rabbi Finkel chose to focus on a Mussar judgment of man, thus deviating from the framework of R. Yisrael Salanter, who was preceded in a psychological, educational description and a study of the powers of the soul. This deviation stemmed from an optimistic attitude toward man and his status. And under R. Yisrael Salanter, who placed man at the center as an object of discussion and occupation, Rabbi Finkel placed him as a value in himself.[8] These important insights clarify Rabbi Finkel’s conceptual method. However, the historical picture will only be completed by clarifying the educational goals that Rabbi Finkel had in mind when he conceived the doctrine of “human greatness,” and the practical challenges he faced in his arena of activity.

Brown placed Rabbi Finkel in the world of Jewish thought according to what he called the “radical aspect” of his ideas. Accordingly, he also weaved the historical picture, and made a distinction between Rabbi Finkel’s early and later students. According to him, in the early periods, these were students who were inclined to the ideas of the Enlightenment, and therefore were a good receptacle for his ideas, which were also drawn from the optimistic foundations of European thought before the world wars. This was not the case with his later disciples, who already saw the idea of ‘human greatness’ as rather stained, “for the horrors of the two world wars and the rise of totalitarian ideologies did not reinforce the lofty and positive image of man.”[9]

Well, in all the writings of the Slobodkas, there is no reference to wars in the context of the doctrine of human greatness. Rabbi Finkel’s best ideas came to us through his later students who experienced both wars, and it seems that on the contrary, they perceive them as relevant and appropriate even for the younger generation that grew up after the wars. The reason for this is simple: the students did not recognize the “radicalness” in his teachings at all, and not because they read it as a “harmonious” Haredi reading that blurs between different opinions in the Jewish tradition. Rather, it was because they had apparently descended to the end of his mind, and before them stood the complete picture of both the man and his actions. This whole picture is not as radical and innovative as Brown presented it. In the opinion of the students, the teachings and educational methods of their rabbi are worthy of a generation that witnessed man’s wickedness and made negative use of the superiority of the chosen creatures. A careful study of Rabbi Finkel’s teachings proves that he did not ignore what was happening in the world, and that he even had a great deal of pessimism about the modern, materialistic world, which is full of intrigue and conspiracies. He appreciated the progress of science, but he complained about the emptiness of human conscience. At the same time, in his opinion, in the end, a person has a positive element, the potential has not disappeared, and the “image of God” in him has not changed. Man is able to overcome and return to his solid source, and therefore the human responsibility for self-correction never expires.

The premise of this study is that the Lithuanian Mussar movement did not set before it a metaphysical conceptual clarification of Mussar, but rather a theory of personal guidance that is expressed in practical life. Therefore, any discussion of the matter, even if it relates to the field of the idea, cannot afford to be conducted in isolation from the real historical context and the educational field of action. From this approach, Slobodka and her field of activity should be seen as a natural development of the “world of action” of the Mussar movement, centered on the development of an equal “Mussar thought” for everyone, and the regulation of individual and social life in accordance with this doctrine.

To summarize the state of the study: There are two approaches in the study of the Yeshiva-based Mussar movement, for which Slobodka is the tipping point: on the one hand, an approach that focuses on the philosophical principles of the Mussar movement, and finds its purpose in the writers and schools that have produced a cohesive and graspable thought. From Slobodka, it ignores, or chooses only interesting radical sides. On the other hand, the approach focuses on the challenges faced by the creators of the Mussar yeshivot, and examines the structural innovations. This approach treats Slobodka only as a representative of the Mussar movement, sometimes coloring it with colors and even associating it with the images that clung to it. Against these two I would like to propose an intermediate approach, which sees the Mussar movement as an educational arena for the realization of spiritual challenges, and therefore examines each school of ethics on its own. According to this approach, Slobodka is distinguished from the other ethics yeshivot in the unique field of activity she created, in the combination of scholarship and Mussar, and the idea of practice in Mussar education. It was this format that succeeded in surviving the Revolts and crises, the immigration to the Land of Israel, and even influencing the entire Yeshiva establishment in the twentieth century.

The Sources

1. Slobodka Mussar thought yielded a large literary harvest: Rabbi Finkel’s talks were recorded by students, and were published in the books Ohr Hatzafon, edited by his senior students. An equally rich selection of Slobodka’s teachings can be found in the writings of selected students, who published articles and books of thought in the spirit of the school, and included personal memoirs and critical reviews of great value. The most prominent among them are: Rabbi Avraham Eliyahu Kaplan, Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, Rabbi Yechezkel Sarna, Rabbi Dov Katz, Rabbi Yisrael Zissel Dvoretz, Rabbi Yosef Ze’ev Lipovich and Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Lassin.

As with any internal material of a reviewed school, its use should be done with due caution, as it may sometimes give rise to methodological difficulties. In this case, since we are concerned with the Slobodkai education and its implementation among the students, we are required to write and think about them just as we are required of the thought of their teacher, Rabbi Finkel. In addition, Slobodka’s education encouraged independence of thought, sometimes to the point of criticizing it, and some of the aforementioned writers applied this privilege in practice in their personal lives and in their written work. The use of these writings will be made while familiarizing ourselves with the biography of the author, the two fields complement each other and present us with the image of a graduate of the Slobodka School.

2. Diaries and autobiographies written by students of the Slobodka Yeshiva and other yeshiva students, shedding light on important periods and events in the yeshiva world during this period, and on the Mussar movement and the problems it faced. These are valuable sources about the inner world and self-consciousness of yeshiva students. Within them, a distinction must be made between diaries written at or near the time of the event, and autobiographies written at a distance of time and space. Among the diaries, there are some that have not yet been published, and even those that have been published, for the most part, have been affected by them and important excerpts have been censored. In several cases I managed to obtain the manuscript of the diary, from which I learned other important things that would be reflected in the body of the work.

3. Most of the documentary material comes from private collections, which I reached through my connections in the Haredi world. Infiltrating such collections is a difficult task, due to a characteristic suspicion that stems from two reasons: first, the unsympathetic attitude toward academia in general, and second, the most significant collections are in the hands of family members who are in a state of ongoing conflict with each other. So far, important and vital material has come to my attention from both family and neutral sources, and all the sources have been brought with reference to their origin, whether explicitly or in acronyms for obvious reasons.

4. Interviews: I conducted with graduates of the Knesset Israel Yeshiva and other yeshivas, as well as interviews conducted by others and published in various media outlets. It should be remembered that some of the interviewees today are at very advanced ages and sometimes it is difficult to trust their memory. The most effective interviewee is the one who, on the one hand, was directly close to the system, and on the other hand, was not personally involved in a way that might cast doubt on the accuracy of the information in his mouth.

5. Biographical, ‘geographic’ and lexicon literature: The use of Haredi literature written for educational purposes requires careful use of historical information. However, when it contains information that is given in the first person, it can teach us a great deal about the self-consciousness of yeshiva students and members of the Mussar movement. Sometimes these sources actively participate in the research when they are part of the process we wish to present. An example of this is Rav Dov 20″Z, who certainly deserves to be considered a ‘historian’ of the Mussar movement. Despite the didactic tone, his series of books “The Mussar Movement” brings together most of the information about the movement and its prominent personality in one place. As a member of the movement, he is an unmediated source for everything related to the insider’s perspective, especially towards the Slobodka school in which he grew up. The observing reader will be able to discern the difference between his descriptions of his grandfather of Slobodka and his descriptions of other Mussar figures. The chapters dealing with the description of Slobodka’s method of education are imprinted with the imprint of Katz’s personal experience as a student, and besides being an authentic first-hand report, they teach us about the perspective that Slobodka’s students had toward their yeshiva.

6. Research material: The studies of the Lithuanian yeshiva and the Mussar movement reviewed above contribute a great deal of useful information. I will also use research from the field of educational thought and the history of education, sometimes for the purpose of possible comparison with a parallel educational school, and sometimes as background material for understanding the situation required for our discussion. The latter category includes the studies of Zvi Lam, Mordechai Nissan, Jonathan Cohen, Zvi Kurzweil, and Yona Ben-Sasson.

7. Background research: the documentary and research literature of the Fourth and Fifth Aliyah, studies on the Yishuv during the Mandate period. In order to understand the socio-political background of Orthodox society in this period, I used the research of Menachem Friedman, Israel Bartal, Moshe Lisak, Israel Kolat, and Gershon Bacon. The files of letters that were printed also contribute to this field by a hundred key figures in the Orthodox world during the period under discussion, headed by Rav Kook, Rabbi H.A. Grodzinsky, the Chazon Ish, and Rabbi Sarna.

[1]Ross does not deal with Slobodka at all, and Rabbi Finkel’s book “The Light of the North” does not even appear in her bibliography.
[2] Shaul Stampfer, The Lithuanian Yeshiva in the Making, Jerusalem 2005.
[3] Founded in 1802 by Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, a student of the Gra, it was closed in 1892 by order of the authorities.
[4] See Weinberg, The Yeshivot in Russia, followed by Dov Katz in his book The Mussar Movement.
[5] Weinberg is there. (Shapira, ibid., pp. 221-222).
[6] Stampfer, The Lithuanian Yeshiva, p. 270.
[7] See Brown, The Greatness of Man.
[8] Brown, ibid., p. 251.
[9] Brown, ibid., p. 269.




A Knife, Is it A Dangerous Gift for Rosh haShana?

A Knife, Is It A Dangerous Gift for Rosh Hashanah?
By: Bency Eichorn
I. R. Nachman of Breslov’s Position on Knife GivingAs Erev Rosh Hashanah approaches, let me remind you of a popular trend some people, prior to Rosh Hashana, buy knives for their households, or as presents for others. Why all this enthusiasm? Some will explain that buying a new knife for Rosh Hashana is a popular segulah for livelihood. This segulah is so powerful that many wives insist that their husbands buy a new knife each approaching Rosh Hashana. This custom will be discussed in length in a different article. The topic that I wish to discuss here is the other extreme, the widespread superstition that people should avoid buying knives as presents for others, in the belief that possible dangers linger with the giving of a knife. This once very popular superstition has not diminished through time. Recently, I experienced this belief during a simcha of mine. I received many interesting gifts, yet one stuck out. It was a beautiful silver knife, with a single dollar. The giver explained that the dollar was meant to thwart the dangers which linger with the giving of a knife.[1] Immediately a famous quote of Karl Goldmark[2] was whispered into my ears: “Civilized people lose their religion easily, but rarely their superstitions.”
The giving of gifts to friends, family members or the host of a happy occasion is part of our ancient customs. [3] It is found in the Bible as early as the story of Eliezer, the humble servant of Abraham, who is given gifts by his master to give when Eliezer finds a wife for Isaac. When Eliezer meets Rivka and realizes that she is the perfect wife for Isaac, he gives her gold, silver and garments, and to her mother and brother, precious things [Braishis 24:52].[4] This gift was a way of bridging a connection between two people who had no connection before. Then, soon after, Jacob gives Eisav a huge gift consisting of two hundred female goats, and twenty male goats, two hundred ewes, and twenty rams, thirty nursing camels with their colts, forty cows, and ten bulls, twenty female donkeys, and ten male donkeys [Braishis 32:13-20].‘The ritual of giving a present’ is a very integral part of the Jewish culture today as well. [5] Often, gifts are exchanged at family occasions, be it at a brit, bar mitzvah, or wedding. A knife is a very common wedding gift, given its practicality as a kitchen utensil, or its significance as a Judaic piece. However, this gift is often avoided by many people as it is considered a danger in the world of superstition. After much research on this topic, this superstition does not seem to have any concrete basis in central Jewish religious belief.The earliest Jewish source to mention the danger of giving a knife as a gift is an 18th century work, in the name of the great Chasidic Master, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov [1772-1810]. Reb Nosson, a disciple, recorded all the teachings which he heard directly from his teacher. In Sefer Sichot HaRan[6], R. Nosson quotes his teacher, R. Nachman, who in turn refers to a tradition from his great-grandfather, the Holy Baal Shem Tov [Rabbi Yisroel Ben Eliezer, 1698-1760, known by his acronym The Besh”t] and the founder of the Chasidic movement. “In the name of the Baal Shem Tov, that a knife should not be given as a present, which means one should not give his friend a knife for a present.”[7]
Rabbi Nachman did not provide an explanation for this belief. Rather, he refers to it as a tradition that should be guarded and accepted. The fact that his ultimate source is the Besh”t indicates that this belief was not known to the public at large; rather, it was a tradition solely of the Besh”t. Only much later, Rabbi Shabtzi Liphshutz writes in his Shemira Mealyah,[8] based on the Talmud in Baba Metzia 27b, “People do not generally lend a moneybag, a purse because people superstitiously believe [Rash”i there] that by doing so they transfer their good fortune to the borrower.” Rabbi Shabtzi Liphshutz[9] explains that “for the same reason I have a tradition that one should not give his friend a knife for a present.” An additional reason I recently saw states that knives are symbloic of one’s livelihood, therefore one can forfeit his livelihood by giving another a knife.[10] After quoting the tradition of not giving a knife as a present, Rabbi Shmuel Hakatan[11] cites a Midrash,[12] where Resh Lakish told R’ Yehudah, “take nothing from anyone, then you will not have to give anything to anyone.” While sitting there, a woman came and brought him a slaver with a knife on it. He took the knife and returned the salver. Subsequently, a royal courier saw the knife, took a liking to it, and carried it away.[13]
Rabbi Yitzchok Yosef Lerner shlita”h, in his amazing work, Shemiras ha-Guf veha-Nefesh, writes,“There are those that don’t give a knife as a gift to a friend.”[14] This same religious belief is cited in several other contemporary works.[15] II. Potential Problems with this CustomAs we have discussed, the main danger associated with giving a knife as a present is the belief that this action can transfer one’s good fortune, ‘mazal,’ from the giver to the receiver. However, it is difficult to apply the Talmud in Baba Metzia 27b, which appears to be limited to lending a purse or a money bag but not anything else. Assuming arguendo that this principle does apply to knives, the question that must be asked is why are knives singled out over any other present? It is worth stating at the outset that this entire belief regarding gifting knives may be nothing but a belief of the common folk, adapted from the gentiles of the times of the Talmud, who had an incredible influence on the Jews,[16] a point to which we shall return.
Another point to consider is that the earliest source for this belief is Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, who is claiming the source as the Besh”t. It is impossible that Rabbi Nachman heard about this belief directly from the Besh”t as he was not alive during the Besh”t’s lifetime. Therefore, it must be that Rabbi Nachman heard about this belief from a family member, as they were descendents of the Besh”t, or that he heard it from a non-relative in the name of the Besh”t. Because Rabbi Nachman did not hear about this belief directly from the Besh”t, this already casts some doubt on its authenticity, or, at the very least, something was lost in the transmission of this custom. For example, it’s possible that this belief was influenced by gentile practices that occurred in the Besh”t’s lifetime, and then attributed to the Besh”t[17]. Or, it’s possible that this belief is based on a one time occurrence, in which the Besh”t ruled not to give a knife as a present. This would explain why no other disciple of the Besh”t has recorded this belief.This leads us to the obvious problem of why no one else before Rabbi Nachman record this belief, including any of the other disciples of the Besh”t.For example, Rabbi Boruch of Mezhbizh (1753-1811), a grandson of the Besh”t, and, according to many, his supposed successor, does not mention this superstition. To the contrary, Rabbi Boruch of Mezhbizh practiced the opposite of this custom. In a letter to Rabbi Menachem Mendal of Vitebesk he writes, “Please accept from me a minor gift a silver knife and fork, and it should be accepted as a good offering.”[18] Another disciple, who lived a little while later, Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchak of Lublin, otherwise known as The Chozeh of Lublin, would distribute knives to his chasidim on Rosh Hashonah as a segulah for wealth. He is recorded as saying “he [God] ‘cuts’ life for all living beings and as it says he opens his hands and the last letter of each word is the Devine name of wealth.”[19]
Because of the previous point, Rabbi Pinchas Epstein zt”l, in his notes[20] on the Shemira Mealyah, limits the danger of giving knives as a present. He writes, “the reason that the Lubliner had no problem giving knives to his chassidim is because when the knives are brand new knives for the purpose of giving as a segulah, then there is no danger.” Rabbi Epstein zt”l makes an important distinction between giving new and used knives as a present.[21] Although Rabbi Epstien zt”l asserts that “this distinction is very logical” this distinction is difficult to accept as no one else, including Rabbi Nachman and the Shemirah Mealyah make such a distinction. III. Iron in Jewish Thought Perhaps, R. Nacham’s version of the Besh”t’s belief stems from the Biblical and Talmudic (mystical) concept that iron (and the like) should not be present in a place where blessing is found. This concept is based on a verse in Exodus (20:22) “And if you make for me an alter of stones, do not build it of hewn stones; for by wielding your tool you have profaned them,” and on another verse in Devarim (27:5) “An alter of stones, do not wield an iron tool over them.” The Mishnah in Midos (3:4) echoes this idea, “Brought thence whole stones upon which no iron (tool) had been wielded, for iron invalidates (the stones of the alter even) by contact …they did not plaster them with iron trowel lest it touch (the stones) and render (them) invalid…”The Torah does not explain how the alter is profaned by using iron to cut its stones. It was left to Chazal, who explained it in the Mishnah ibid. and Mechilta de-Reb Yishmael.[22] As the Mechilta explains, the alter has the ability to lengthen a man’s life (by way of atonement). It is therefore improper that iron, which is used to shorten man’s life (when used as weapons), come in contact with the alter.[23]That is was constructed without iron was the alter’s perfection. Therefore, there are Rishonim who expain that if the alter came in contact with iron, the material that contradicts its essence, it was deemed profane.[24] There are Rishonim, however, who understood that when iron coexists with the mizbeach, it brings negativity and actual danger into the world.[25]
For a long period of time, iron symbolized the sword, a weapon used to shorten man’s life. Therefore, people were careful not to associate iron with blessing, specifically with the blessing of long life. Many saw it as an actual danger.In the medieval times this concept was applied to a knife left on the table, specifically during Birchat Hamazon. The table which people eat on is considered an alter. As the Talmud[26] explains in the name of Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Elazar, “when the Beis Hamikdash was around the alter would atone for Israel, but now the table of a person atones.” Therefore, many laws associated with the alter and the concept of the alter’s sanctity applies to today’s table,[27] including covering the knife during Birchat Hamozon.[28] A knife, made of iron, and the antithesis of blessing, should not be exposed at the “mizbeach table,” specifically during Birchat Hamazon, which is the epitome of blessing.In the same vein, we find that a sword should not be brought into a shul, as prayer lengthens life and a knife shortens life.[29] This concept seems far extended from the original concept which applies to iron on the mizbeach. However, as far extended as it may seem, the reality is that iron (sword/knife) is an antithesis to prayer and the two cannot coexist. It seems clear that the concepts of covering the knife during Birchat Hamazon, and not bringing a knife/sword into a shul, did not proceed medieval times.The Besh”t extended the original law of not placing iron on the mizbeach even further. For example, he preferred not to use an iron mezuzah cover. This is recorded by Rabbi Abraham David Wahrman (1770–1840) in his Da’as Kedoshim.[30] “I heard in the name of the Besh”t that it is better not to place the mezuzah in an iron holder. It is comparable to what Chazal reasoned that it is improper that a thing that shortens ones life should be placed with a thing that lengthens one’s life. The Torah states in the krias shema [Devarim 11:2] that it is in order to lengthen one’s life, and Chazal said this is going on the mitzvah of mezuzah. Also with regard to any metal, one should be careful not to use it as the mezuzah holder.”[31] The Da’as Kedoshim comments on this. “I don’t know if the person that heard this from the Besh’t added the part about all metal, for from Chazal it seems that only by iron do we apply the concept that it is something that shortens one’s life.”[32]
Later, the concept of not placing a mezuzah in an iron holder was recorded in R’ Shabtzi Liphshutz’s Segulas Yisroel[33] and R’ Matzliach Mazuz’s Abiah Segulos,[34] both in the name of the Besh”t.It seems that the Besh”t extended the prohibition of iron on the mizbeach to any circumstance involving iron and blessing (especially of lengthening one’s life), explaining that the two should not coexist.Therefore, one can understand why the Besh”t would prohibit giving a knife as a present. A knife, symbolic of shortening life, is not the ideal item with which to convey messages of love, peace, and blessing. As well, there is a concept of “al tiftach peh sattan.”[35] We do not want the exchange of knives to rouse the Satan to act morbidly. In addition, there may be intrinsic danger in a transaction involving an item which symbolizes death (such as a knife). According to this belief, there is no difference between a new and old knife.In conclusion, it would seem that Rabbi Nachman had a tradition (not to give a knife as a present) from the Besh”t that was unknown to the rest of his disciples.[36] What is certain is that this belief, as a Jewish custom, stems exclusively from the Besh”t. There is no mention of this belief, as a Jewish custom, prior to the Besh”t, and those that record it after his lifetime are all his disciples, or followers.[37]
IV. Non-Jewish Sources Regarding Gifting KnivesAmongst the non-Jews, the superstition of not gifting knives was very widespread and mention of it precedes the first Jewish source by a few hundred years. However, the reason given for this superstition differs from the explanations recorded in Jewish sources. Non Jewish sources, dating back to the year 1470, explain that if a knife is given as a present, it can “cut up,” or destroy love and friendship.The earliest non Jewish source to mention the already widespread superstition preceded Rabbi Nachman by over 300 years. The Gospelles of Dystaues records, “he that gyueth [gave] a payre [pair] of knues [knives] ti his lady paramour on newe yeres daye [on new years days] knowe that theyr loue shall ware colde [know[ing] that their love shall become cold [severed]].”[38] In 1578, Peter Bornemisza echoed this belief in his book, On the Temptation of the Devil, as he writes, “one ought not to give one’s financee a knife.”[39] Soon after ,in the year 1611, Francis Davidson in Peotical Rapsodi writes,“a paire of kniues: Fortune doth giue this paire of Kniues to you. To cut the thred of loue if ’t be not true.” [40]
From its earliest source in the year 1470, this belief could be found in many different parts of the world, especially in England and America.[41] Eventually, around the year 1654,[42] this belief extended not only to knives but to any sharp [metal] tool or object as well, such as pins and scissors. Giving sharp objects as gifts, just like knives, was believed to carry danger, and, it appers that people accepted these “prohibitions.”[43]
In the year 1707,[44] we find that the non-Jews thought up a solution to the danger of giving sharp items/knife as a present. This solution has been employed by both non-Jews[45] and by many Jews up to present day. [46] Specifically, the solution entails the recipient to give money or an item of value to the giver, in return for the knife. I assume that by giving money to the giver, it is considered as the recipient bought the knife, and the knife loses its status as a gift. There is no danger in buying a knife.It is interesting to point out that this non Jewish belief is recorded in the general beliefs of the Iraqi Jews. They believed that one should not give his friend a knife as a present [for the reason given by the gentiles]. However, if the recipient gives the giver a minimal amount of money, then it is permitted.[47] I would assume that the Iraqi Jews were influenced by this very popular belief of the non Jews.Although inconclusive, this widespread superstition of the Gentiles (not to give a knife as a present) may have played a role in the development of the Jewish belief. This claim is not definite; rather an assumption gleaned from the evidence at hand. Hopefully, with ongoing research on this topic, definite evidence will surface and prove the exact origins of this belief, practiced by many Jews.

[1] See later in the article for a comparative study of non Jewish beliefs, which they believe by the receiver giving a dollar you can defend the dangers of such a present. It seems however this relative not only did she possess a non-Jewish superstition and protection(this way of protection does not have to be exclusive to non Jews for it just makes the knife as an acquisition instead of a present), she also mixed it up and gave me the dollar (I am not complaining!).[2] Karl Goldmark (1830-1915), Viennesse Jewish music teacher, composer, and conductor. His autobiography, was translated into English in 1927 under the title Notes from the Life of a Viennese Composer.[3] Whatever the origin of this tradition is, according to one scholar, giving presents is one of the oldest, universal, acts in human history. Horst A. Wessel, The Babylonian Laws, Oxford 1968, pp. 311-13, 343, 377. [4] See Richard Booker, Here Comes The Bride: Jewish Wedding Customs And The Messiah, (Houston: Sounds of the Trumpet, 1995), p. 78; Roni Weinstein, Marriage Rituals Italian Style, Brin: 2004, pp. 262-310. For the custom of the bride gifting presents to the groom see Hershavitz, Otzar kol Minhagai Yeshurun, p. 27; S. M. Lehrman, Jewish Customs and Folklore, London 1949, pp. 143, 149. On giving present upon attending a wedding, see Hershavitz, Otzer Kol Minhagai Yeshurun, p. 30. [5] For the custom of giving gifts on Purim, Chanuka, and marriage occasions to the Rabbi’s see Zohar Chai, Veyairah, Midrash Hanelam 115. For giving charitable gifts to poor by inviting them over Shabbos night, sponsoring candles and Torah covers to the synagogue, funding dowries, and hospital care see Chazeres Hoatoroh, Israel 2008, p. 48;, Hershavitz, Otzar Kol Minhagai Yeshurun, p. 449, . In the Cairo Geniza we find all types of gifts given. See S.D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, (University of California Press: 1993) vol. III, p. 22 (gifts from a brother to his sister); id. pp. 167-68 (gifts from husband to his wife); id. vol. I, p. 167 (gifts amongst friends). [6] Sichot Haran no. 9. First printed in 1798-99. Maaglei Tzedek pg. 3a. This tradition is also found in Baal Shem Tov al Hatorah, Parshas Re’ah in the Mekor Mayim Chaim, no. 6.[7] This is not to say that Rabbi Nachman held that a knife had no good usages the world of segulah’s. In Sefer Hamidos, Bayis II 8, R. Nachman is recorded as offering that upon entering a new house bring in a sword or knife. See also, id. segulah II 7, to one who got mute pass a knife… Ibid Segulah II 10, upon entering a new house bring in a knife or sword [See Shaul Mieslish, Sefer Ani Mamin,Israel 1996, pg. 9, brings the very same segulah]. Regarding iron being a positive source to fight off evil and evil spirits, see Joshua Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, New York: 1984, pp. 160, 258, 313 n.14. Frazer, Folklore in the Old Testament, vol. I, p. 521, (“It is said among high caste Hindoos of the Punjab, a Bridegroom on entering the bridal chamber always carries an iron weapon with him to drive away the evil spirits that haunt him.”). Similarly, Trachtenberg, id. p. 174, cites a similar belief by some Jews. Frazer, id. p. 521, records that some brought daggers to drive away evil spirits. [8] Notes on Sefer Shemiras Hanefesh,Yisroel Matisyahu Auerbach, Lemberg: 1871; Shemiras HaNefesh, New York 1992, Preisler ed. no. 153 p. 59.[9] Id. no. 85 p. 59.[10] Segulos Habaal Shem Tov Vetalmidov, Magen Yeshuos Yisroel, 1999, no. 81, in the name of the Sichos Hara”n, notes therein.[11] Rabbi Shmuel Hakatan, Tiferes Shmuel, grandson of Rabbi Shmuel Kaminikar, New York 1926, p. 216. [12] Braishis Rabbah, Vayishlach 87:12.[13] As I wrote it is only an allusion because you can’t prove from here that you should not give a knife as a present. [14] Shemiras Haguf VeHanefesh, Jerusalem 1987, p. 304 siman 243:2[15] Segulos Yisroel,[printed without name of author] Jerusalem 1998, p. 55. Segulos Habaal Shem Tov Vetalmidov, Magen Yeshuos Yisroel, 1999, no. 81. Mechon Zera Avraham, Chazeres Hoatoroh, Israel 2008, p. 344.[16] See Tosfos there that asks why you don’t transgress the prohibition of … c.f. Reshash and Maharatz Chayos, Pischei Teshuvah Y.D. 179:3, and the Toras Chaim. See, Rabbi Yehudah Yudel Rosenberg, Refael Hamalach, p. 14 sub. Hatzlocha, that brings the Gemarah that one should be careful not to lend to his friend his wallet or money belt because by doing so, he will sell or give away his mazel. See also Shaul Mieslish, Sefer Ani Mamin, Israel: 1996, p. 97 also records this precaution.[17] See Baal Shem Al Hatorah for many more segulos that originated from the Besh”t.[18]See Botzina Denehorah, Jerusalem: 2007; Igros Hakodesh, p. 176. Yitzchok Warfel, Sefer Hachasidus, Tel Aviv: 1957 p. 10. See also Aron Surasky, Israel 2000, II pp. 73-74. See also Siach Sarfie Kodesh, Bnai Brak 1989, part 4, pg 141, num. 51, a story “where a great holy Tzaddik sent Rabbi Menachem Mendal of Kotkz a knife as a present. The Kotkzer would not accept the present and said even a one time acceptance can ruin a friendship. It was assumed that he didn’t accept it because because it was not Toveled first. [However it could be explained that the reason he would not accept the present is because he knew of the danger of accepting a knife as a present].See also Yisroel Wasertil, Yeshua Verachamim, p. 19, also in Kovetz Ohr Yisreol, Monsey 1997, p. 128, that Rabbi Moshe Mordechai Bidderman of Lelov would go out on Erev Rosh Hashanah and buy lots of knives and give each of his sons a knife for Rosh Hashanah.[19] R. Mordechai Meneshchiz, Rishfai Aish Hachodosh, Jerusalem: 1997, Kuntres Zichron Tov, p. 72, no. 12. R’ Avraham Yitzchok Sperling, Israel 1982 ed., Shabbath, pg. 118, Num. 246 Notes there. [20] Shemirah Mealyah ibid. pg. 151.[21] It can be assumed that because the giver never used the knife, his mazel is not associated with it, and therefore cannot be transferred when given over to another person. [22] End of Parshas Yisro. See also Toras Kohanim, Kedoshim Perek 11 Halacha 9. Yalkut Shemoni, Kedoshim, no. 624. Midrash Aggadah, Jerusalem: 1971, p. 194 for a alternative reading. [23] See James George Frazer, The Golden Bough, New York 1966, III, Taboo And the Perils Of The Soul, pg. 230, in which he writes “Amongst the Jews no iron tool was used in building the Temple at Jerusalem or in making an alter.” See there in which he brings from early Gentiles sources that they too, held iron as a taboo.[24] As explained in length by the Ramba”n and Tur Ha’oruch Al Hatorah Shemos ibid they write, “Sherak lehidur hamitzvah.” [25] See Rabbeinu Ephraim Al Hatorah, Jerusalem: 1992, Shemos ibid., After writing that iron should not be in contact with the mizbeach because the mizbeach lengthens a man’s life and iron shortens ones life. Therefore one who brings weapons into a shul shortens his life. So it would seem that he connected these to rules for he saw an actual danger by iron being in contact with the mizbeach. See Joshua Trachtenberg, op cit., p. 298 n.5, where he gives a new reason for the danger of a knife and applies it to the covering of a knife by Brichat Hamozon and to the prohibition of bringing a knife into a shul.[26] Chagigah 27a, Menochos 97a. See also Zohar Shemos, Teruma, pg, 153b. [27] Brought by Rabbi Nachman, Sefer Hamidos, Jerusalem p. 52. For a lengthy discussion on this subject see Daniel Sperber, Minhagai Yisroel, Jerusalem: 1994, p. 161.[28] Rokeach no. 332, Shnersohn ed. Jerusalem: 1967, p. 230. Sefer Chasidim, Margolios ed. no. 102, p. 136. See also Minhag Yisroel Torah no. 167. For a lengthy discussion on this topic see the upcoming Yerushosainu. [29] See Kol Bo, Avraham ed. Jerusalem: 2007, p. 334. R’ Moshe of Pramamsla, Mateh Moshe, London: 1958 p. 118.[30] Hilchos Sta”m Hilchos Mezuzah no. 289:1.[31] The Daas Kedoshim ibid. concludes, “however, one does not have to be extra careful.” See R’ Dovid Sperber, Teshuvas Afrakasta Deanyah, Romania: 1940, p, 88, responsum no. 99 (explaining that this means that the proper thing is to be careful). The author asked Rabbi Chaim Kenevsky Shlita”h winter 2008, “Should one be careful not to have a mezuzah holder made of iron”? He answered “that there are those that are makpid, however I am not.”[32] The Magen Avraham end of siman 180, explictly writes that the whole hakpadah is with regard to iron. R’ Moshe Tzvi Landau, Mezusas Melochim, p. 42b, cites the Besh”t that one should be careful not to use a holder of iron, but is not clear that this custom should also apply to all metal and he continues that even regarding iron one does not have to be so stringent not to use it. See R’ Uri Fievel Halevi Braudstien, Mikdash Me’at, where he argues that one does not have to be careful not to have a holder of iron. R’ Yehuda Shienfeld, Osrei Legefen, Jerusalem: 2002, p. 393, responsum no. 551, asserting that the hakpadah is only with metal that you make a knife or sword, such as iron and even copper you should try to be careful not to use it, but other types of metal is fine to use. But see, R’ Dovid Sperber, Teshuvas Afrakasta Deanyah, who asks that it would seem from the poskim that it is not so clear that it doesn’t apply to the also to other metals and on the contrary it would seem it is also prohibited. See also Ohr Yisroel, Monsey N.Y. 2000, 5-1-(17), p. 147.[33] R’ Shabtzi Liphshutz, Segulas Yisroel, Jerusalem: 1993, p. 191.[34]R’ Matzliach Mazuz, Abiah Segulos, Tel Aviv: 2001, p. 19.[35] See Joshua Trachtenberg ibid. pg. 56-57 to what extent people took to be careful not to give any ideas to the Sattan.[36] An explanation to how the Lubliner and others had no problem to buy knives and give them out to others is because if it is for Rosh Hashanah or even a segulah or if it was a present to other for Shabbos Kodesh then there is no danger as the Mitzvah protects. Also it may be offered that if it was bought directly for others so it is like they bought it themselves. [37] We find many instances where Jews gave a knife as a present without hesitation. See Avraham Yari, Masoet Eretz Yisroel, p. 476; see also Hagar Salomon, The Hyena People, California: 1999, pp. 43-44; David Biale, Cultures of the Jews, New York: 2002, p. 984. The people of the Beth Israel are recorded as giving a gift of knives to their Christain friends at the occasion of a wedding. These gifts carried particular symbolic meanings charged with hidden messages. The Manestricher Rebbe, Rabbi Yitzcok Yoel Rabinowitz zt’l although knowing of the belief of the Baal Shem Tov he would still give silver challah knives as a present Lekovod Shabbos (as heard from his son). The present Belz Rebbi shlita”h often gives challah knives a gifts. [As heard from Chasidim]. When the author asked Rabbi Chaim Keneyevski Shlita”h Winter 2008 “Should one be careful not give a knife as a present and is there a source for this superstition “? He answered he never heard of such a thing.[38] Gospelles of Dystaues, pt. 2 xx. (quoted in A Dictionary of Superstitions, Opie & Tatem, Oxford: 1989, p. 217). The Gospel was written around 1470 is an anonymous work that appears to have many contributors, in 1507 it was translated into English a nd published by editor Wynkyn de Worde.[39] Quoted in Teklu Domotoc, Hungarian Folk Beliefs, Indiana: 1981 p. 62.[40] Poetical Rapsodie 6, F. Davidson, 1611, Minors Poems 91:11.[41] Notes and Queries Feb 8, 1890, p. 117, From Two Wise Men and All the Rest Fools, A Comicall Morall, 1619, attributed to George Chapman: Levita: ‘what! Knives? O, I will not take them in any wise: they will cut love.’ See also John Gay, Sheppards Week 26 [Tuesday II 101-102], quoted in a Dictionary of Superstitions and in N&Q Feb. 8, 1890 pg. 117, I quote ‘But woe is me! Such presents luckless prove, for knives; they tell me, always sever love. See Dictionary of superstitions ibid. with many source See North Carolina Folklore, Frank Brown, North Carolina 1961, vol. 6, pg. 632 num. 4650, pg. 473-4 num. 3578-80 [brings may different sources from north American recordings]. Also see Funks and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary of Folklore, 1972, pg. 584. See also A Dictionary of English Folklore, Jacqueline Simpson & Steve Roud, Oxford University Press 2000, pg. 205. See Notes and Queries, Sept. 16, 1893. pg. 231. N&Q. July 22, 1893, pg. 78, Rev. Samuel Bishop, head master of Merchant Taylor’s School 1783-95. wrote the following line on the subject, on presenting a knife to his wife: ‘a knife, they say, dear girl, cuts love, mere modish love it may, for any tool of any kind, can separate what was never joined.’ [A very interesting exclusion to the superstition and a very light look by Bishop of such a known belief]. J.S.T.O.R., Superstition from Oregon, Donald M. Hines, pg. 6 of 14. giving a knife as a gift is bad luck as it cuts friendship. Also Superstition and Maxims from Dutchess Count, N.Y. by Gertuse Barnes 4 of 7, you must not thank any one when given a knife or a pin or anything sharp it will cut the friendship.[42] See Dorthy Osborne, letter 13-15 Jan. 1654, quoted in a Dictionary of Superstitions p. 345 (“Did not you say once you knew where good French tweezes were to bee had? Send me a prayer, they shall cut noe love”). Also in 1707, letters from Elizabeth Wentworth quoted id.(“Dearest brother, I give you a grate many thanks for the siszers you sent me by Mr. Shokman. I gave him six spences for fear that should not cute love one your side: but for mine ‘tis well grounded to fear ather siszers or knife cutting of it”). Also in 1711 in Spectator July 14, quoted in ibid pg. 309 I quote: ‘This very old women had a reputation of a witch… There was not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money with it. See Connoisseur 20 Feb.,1755, quoted in A Dictionary of Superstitions ibid I quote: ‘neither would on any account run the risk of cutting love, by giving or receiving such a gift as a knife or a pair of scissors.’ [43] See a Dictionary of Superstitions id. and p. 309, 345, with many sources. North Carolina Folklore ibid. pg 634, num 4651-4653, and pg. 474, num 3579-3580. N&Q Feb. 24., 1912, pg. 157. A Dictionary of English Folklore ibid, Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary of Folklore ibid. [44] See Letter from Elizabeth Wentworth [Wentworth Papers ed. Cartwright, 76] Feb, 1707, quoted in A Dictionary of Superstition ibid pg. 345. I quote ‘Dearest brother, I give you a grate many thanks for the siszers you sent me by Mr. Shokman. I gave him six spences for fear that should not cut love one your side…See also Grose, Provincial Glossary, superstition 63. brought in a Dictionary of Superstitions ibid. pg. 217 and in a dictionary of English folklore ibid, I quote: ‘ it is unlucky to gift a knife, scissors, razor, or any sharp or cutting instrument, to one’s mistress or friend, as they are apt to cut love and friendship. To avoid the ill effects.. a pin, a farthing, or some trifling recompense, must be taken.’[45] See A Dictionary of Superstitions ibid. pg. 217 and pg. 345 pg. 309. North Carolina Folklore ibid. pg. 473 num 3578, a Dictionary of English Folklore ibid, Funk and Wagnalls standard dictionary of folklore ibid, N&Q May 15, 1858 pg. 391, and in Dec. 14, 1889 pg. 469. Feb. 24 1912 pg. 157. J.S.T.O.R. The Journal of American Folklore vol 36. by Martha Warren Beck [Superstitions collected from American College girls] pg. 4. num. 36, Some West Sussex Superstitions 1878 [lingering in 1860] collected by Charlotte Latham pg. 12 9th of 63, num. 43.[46] For an example, I saw brought down that Reb Tzvi Aryeh Rosenfeld said over that once he went to visit Reb Avraham Sthernhauz zt”l a previous leader of Breslov, and he gave Reb Avraham a challah board and knife. Reb Avraham agreed to accept the board but not the knife until he paid for it. [47] Otzar Hasegulot, Avraham Ben Yaakov, Jerusalem 1991, pg. 124.




New Auction House – Genazym

New Auction House – Genazym
by  Dan Rabinowitz, Eliezer Brodt


There is a new auction house, Genazym, that is holding
its inaugural auction next week Monday, December 25th.  The
catalog is available here.  The majority of the material are letters
and other ephemera with a few dozen books. The books include a number with
vellum bindings (71-75).  Appreciation of bindings has been brought to
fore with the recent wider availability of books from the Valmadonna collection
after it was broken up; a collection that was known for its exquisite bindings.[1] 

Books with illustrations form another group, including heretical
images.  The title-page of the first edition of R. Yedidia Shlomo of
Norzi’s commentary on the biblical mesorah, Minhat Shai, Mantua,
1742-44 (76), includes Moses with horns, but more offensive is the depiction
of God with a human face.   The images on the title page are various
biblical vignettes and in the one for the resurrection of the “dry
bones” that appears in Yehkezkel, God is shown as an old man with a white
beard. [2] Another title-page containing non-Jewish imagery is the Smikhat
Hakhamim
, Frankfurt, 1704-06 (87).  Its title page is replete with
mythological (?) or Christian (?) imagery. [3] 

The illustration on the Minchat Shai title page. Note that this is from another copy, not the one on auction.

The kabbalistic work, Raziel haMalach, (77) contains
illustrations of various amulets with various mythical
creatures. [4] Another book with mystical images is the Emek Halakha,
Cracow 1598, (80). Less sensational images, of ships and fauna,
appear in the first Hebrew book to describe America, Iggeret Orkhot
Olam
, Prague 1793, (83). [5] R. Tovia ha-Rofeh’s Ma’ase Tovia,
Venice, 1707, (95) contains an elaborate illustration that compares the human
organs with various parts of a house or building. [6]

Of note for its rarity is (88), a first printing of R’ Moshe Chaim Luzzatto’s Derech Tevunot, Amsterdam 1742. The copy is a miniature, and was owned by the great collector Elkan Nathan Adler.

Among the
most controversial books in the history of Jewish literatures the forged Yerushalmi on Kodshim, (likely) written by
Shlomo Yehudah Friedlander (98).  There are two versions of the book, one
printed on thick paper and, on a second title page, Friedlander is referred to as
a doctor.  The other version is printed on poor paper and lacks the
(presumably bogus) academic credential.  The theory behind
the variants is that one was targeted at academic institutions
and the other at traditional Jews. [7]  Here is what it looked like:

Here are highlights from some of the letters for sale:

– There are some very interesting manuscript letters from the Chasam Sofer (46), R’ Chaim Sanzer (28) and R’ Meir Premishlan (37) .
– Letters from some of previous generations Litvish gedolim, like R’ Meir Simcha of Dvinsk (Meshech Chocham) (4), R’ Chaim Soloveitchik (2), R’ Raphael Shapiro (6), Chafetz Chaim (10), R’ Shimon Shkop (8), R’ Elchanan Wasserman (1), and the Brisker Rav (3). Many of these letters contain important historical information not found in other sources.
– Also of note are important, extremely rare and lengthy documents from the Rogatchover Gaon (5) and R’ Mordechai Gimpel Yaffe (9) related to the shemita and heter mechira controversies. Another letter of note is from the Minchas Elazar (29) in regard to the inheritance of R’ Alfandri.
[1] Portions of the Valmadonna Trust Collection were auctioned at Kestenbaum
& Co. and Sotheby’s. hereherehere. Regarding the source of those books see here.
[2] The title, Minhat Shai, was imposed by the
printer.  Norzi referred to the work as Goder Peretz.  See
Jordan Penkower, “The First Printed Edition of Nozri’s Introduction to Minhat
Shai, Pisa 1819,” Quntres 1:1 (Winter 2009), 9
n2.  The introduction to Minhat Shai was printed
long after the work itself.  See Penkower, idem.  Moses crowned with horns appears in the earliest
depiction of him to adorn a Hebrew book’s title page.  See “Aaron the
Jewish Bishop,” here.
[3] A very similar title-page appears in two other books,
the first edition of the Teshuvot ha-Bah and Beit
Ahron
.  Regarding the usage of these title-pages, see Dan
Rabinowitz, “The Two Versions of the Bach’s Responsa, Frankfurt Edition of
1697,” Alei Sefer 21 (2010) 99-111.
[4] David Hanegbi, “The Printed Hebrew Book as a Talisman
and Ritual Object: A Historical and Bibliographical Study in Sefer Razi’el
ha-Malakh and its Editions,” (Ramat Gan:  MA Thesis, Bar-Ilan
University, 2014).  Regarding the prevalence of mythical creatures in
human society see Kathryn Schulz, “Fantastic Beasts and How to Rank
Them,” New Yorker, Nov. 6, 2017 (here).  
[5] David Ruderman, The World of a
Renaissance Jew:  The Life and Thought of Abraham ben Mordecai
Farissol
 (Cincinati:  Hebrew Union College, 1981). 
[6] The book and specifically the image under discussion
was recently analyzed by Etienne Lepicard, “An Alternative to the Cosmic and
Mechanic Metaphors for the Human Body? The House Illustration in Ma’ashe
Tuviyah 
(1708),” Medical History 52 (2008), 93-105.
[7] For an extensive bibliography of the literature discussing
Friedlander’s edition, see Eliezer Brodt, “Tziyunim u-Meluim le’Mador ‘Netiah
Soferim’
Yeshurun 24 (2011) 454-455.



Talmudic Humor and Its Discontents

Talmudic Humor and Its Discontents
by Ezra Brand
In honor of Purim, I’d like to discuss a few aspects of humor in the Talmud[1]. But first, a short overview of topic of Jewish humor in general.
A lot has been written about Jewish humor[2]. A very good overview of Jewish humor, in general, is that of Avner Ziv in the second edition of Encyclopedia Judaica, under the entry “Humor”[3]. However, most of the piece is about Jewish humor from the eighteenth century and on, with only a little bit at the beginning about humor in Tanach, the Talmud, and the time of the Rishonim. He writes a fascinating few lines in the beginning of the entry:
What is generally identified in the professional literature as Jewish humor originated in the 19th century, mainly, but not
exclusively, in Eastern Europe. Today in the U.S., Jewish humor is considered as one of the mainstreams of American humor.
At the beginning of the 19th century, sense of humor was not associated with Jewishness. Herman Adler, the chief rabbi of
London, felt impelled to write an article in 1893 in which he argued against the view that Jews have no sense of humor. It is perhaps interesting to note that not only Jews but non-Jews as well consider today “a good sense of humor” as one of the noble characteristics of Jews.
Even H.N. Bialik had a similar sentiment about the lack of humor in earlier Jewish sources[4]:
“To our great distress, there is very little humor in our literature. It is hard to find five continuous lines in Tanach with humor.” The above-mentioned Avner Ziv writes elsewhere: “Even in the Talmud there appear references (though few) to humor, but in total there is not a “treasury” of humor […] not until the end of the 19th century did there appear anything but a few references to Jewish humor.”
However, David Lifshitz begs to differ. In 1995, he wrote an entire doctorate on the topic of humor in the  Talmud[5]. He wasn’t the first to collect pieces of humor from the Gemara. Israel Davidson collected humorous pieces from throughout Jewish literature in chronological order, starting from Tanach and ending with Modern Hebrew literature[6].
A few articles discuss different aspects of humor in the Talmud, and there are some seforim that collect humorous pieces from the Gemara[7].  However, by far the most comprehensive discussion is that of Horowitz.
As mentioned, Lifshitz wrote an entire dissertation on the topic, running to 312 pages. He writes that the view that there isn’t a substantial amount of humor in earlier sources is mistaken. He feels that this mistake stems from the fact that there has been little research done on the subject of humor in the Gemara, which in turn stems from the fact that humor is looked at as lowly “leitzanus.” Therefore, the great amount of humor in the Gemara was ignored.
Critical Humor
One specific aspect of humor in the Gemara is critical humor[8]. Although not necessarily the best example of humor in the Gemara, this genre of humor caused some uncomfortableness[9], which I will also discuss.
Here are some Gemaras where critical humor is used, taken at random. (Translations are from Soncino, with slight changes[10].)
1  Kiddushin 79b[11]:
R’ Yosef son of R’ Menasia of Davil gave a practical ruling in accordance with Rav, whereupon Shmuel was offended and exclaimed, “For everyone [wisdom] is meted out in small measure, but for this scholar it was meted out in large measure!”
2) Yoma 76a[12]:
And it long ago happened that R’ Tarfon, R’ Yishmael and the elders were seated and occupied with the portion referring to the manna, and also R’ Eleazar of Modi’in commenced [to expound] and said: “The manna which came down unto Israel was sixty cubits high.” R’ Tarfon said to him: “Modite! How long will you rake words together to bring them up against us?” –He answered: “My master! I am expounding a Scriptural verse.”
Beitza 24a[13]:
3
R’ Yosef said in the name of R’ Yehuda in the name of Shmuel: “The halacha is as Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel”. Abbaye said to him: “The halacha is [etc.], from which it would follow that they [the Sages] dispute it!” –He said to him: “What practical difference does it make to you?” –He replied to him: “It should be for you as a song” [Rashi: “This is a parable of fools […] ‘Study!’ the student says to the fool: learn both truth and mistakes, and it will be for you as a song!”].
A famous responsum of the Chavos Yair, R’ Yair Chaim Bachrach, discusses the harsh language sometimes used by one Amora against another[14]. This tshuva was made famous by the Chafetz Chaim, who printed it at the beginning of his Chafetz Chaim.[15] The Chavos Yair is at great pains to show how each “insult” is in fact a subtle compliment. For example, he says that when R’ Sheshes says, as he often does, on a saying of Rav, “I say, Rav said this statement when he was sleeping,” that this is fact a display of R’ Sheshes’ great respect for Rav that he never could haved erred so easily. A more difficult kind of attack to explain is the “ad
hominem” attack, where one Amora attacks another Amora personally.
Interestingly, some want to say that these kinds of attacks are much more frequent in the Bavli than in the Yerushalmi. In a Hebrew article by Yisrael Ben-Shalom, “ואקח לי שני מקלות לאחד קראתי נעם ולאחד קראתי חבלים”[16], the author shows many instances of negative criticism by Chachamim in the Bavli that don’t appear in their parallels in the Yerushalmi. Recently, R’ Achikam Kashet has drawn up a long list of 82 basic differences between the Bavli and the Yerushalmi in his very impressive אמרי במערבא (n.p. 2010). This difference is number 53 (page 889)[17].
Later, the Ra’avad was one of the more harsh attackers. When he disagreed, he did so in very strong terms. In general, he was most harsh in his hassagos on the Razah. The following is one of the harsher attacks[18]:
הנה שם השם שקר בפיו וזאת עדות על כל שקריו ופחיזותיו אשר אסף רוח בחנפיו להנבא שקרים ולהתעות הפתיים והסכלים בעדיי אחרים אשר נתעטר בהם ספרי הסירוס אשר חיבר.
Closer to our own time, R’ Yitzchak Isaac Halevy, author of Dorot Harishonim, is famous for his harsh language he used against people he disagreed with. While in his magnum opus, Dorot Harishonim, this language is generally used against maskilim and non-Jews, his harshness was not limited to them. R’ Halevy’s biographer notes[19]:
While Halevy had his reasons which led him almost singlehandedly into battle against the foremost historians, he, in turn, became the target of a formidable list of critics […] Undoubtedly, Halevy’s sharp pen was an added factor that irked many to retaliate in kind. Halevy’s inordinate style of writing might have been a carryover from a number of classic rabbinical works […] Thus Halevy’s correspondence relating to his own followers at times was penned in a tone which was similar to that reserved for the targets of his ire in the Dorot Harishonim.
After discussing many sources in Chazal of negativity, Efrayim Elimelech Urbach writes that although in the Beis Medrash the Chachamim could be very harsh with each other, in the “real world” a big stress was put on talmidei chachamim looking out for each other, and on the respect that a talmid chacham deserves.[20]It seems clear that although internally there were strong disagreements, towards the outside, there was strong cohesiveness, and the less disagreement and strife exhibited in public, the better[21].  In other words, what goes on the Beis Midrash, stays in the Beis Midrash! In our own time, one of the controversial passages in R’ Natan Kamenetski’s Making of A Godol was the story of R’ Aharon Kotler calling a red-headed student who interrupted his shiur with a question “parah adumah.” Marc Shapiro, in one
of his recent posts
(paragraph 3), makes the same point: that certain off the cuff remarks were never meant to be publicized.
To end off on a
not-so-Purim-like note, I’d like to note a word of caution. In our own time, where recording devices are ubiquitous, talmidei chachamim must be far more careful about what they say and how they say it. Even if a talmid chacham says something in a setting where it is perfectly acceptable, such as in a “Beis Medrash”-like setting, with a recorder the statement can easily be spread outside these “walls.” We have reached a point where עין רואה ואזן שומעת, וכל מעשיך בספר נכתבין (Avos 2:1) is not
just true in Shamayim, but on Earth also.
[1] In a previous post on the Seforim Blog, Eliezer Brodt discussed some parodies from medieval times and on. Another previous
post
discussed some modern Purim parodies. Some of my favorite modern parodies are those by Moshe Koppel, a Professor of Computer Science in Bar-Ilan University, who has contributed to the Seforim Blog. Professor Kopple has produced a number of parodies of “pashkevillim.” (“Pashkevillim”—“broadsides” in English—are large notices stuck on walls in Chareidi neighborhoods,
especially in Meah Shearim. They are often polemical, and written in a flowery
Hebrew.) (For a review of the Valmadonna’s collection of broadsides see here). A sampling of these parodies, as well as an interview with Koppel, can be seen here. A parody of his about fundamentalist anti-science is a favorite of R’ Natan Slifkin.
[2] See the bibliography in Eli Yassif, The Hebrew Folktale, Bloomington 1999,  pg. 500 n. 96; see also the bibliography of the Encyclopedia Judaica article in the next footnote.
[3] Volume 9, pg. 590-599. It first appeared in the 1986-1987 Yearbook, one of the many yearbooks that were published as a supplement to the first edition of Encyclopedia Judaica.  I remember reading that the reason that there wasn’t an entry on “Humor” in the first edition of the Encyclopedia is because the editors couldn’t find someone someone qualified to write it. I could not find the source for this recently.
[4] ח”נ ביאליק, דברים שבעל פה, ספר ראשון, דביר, תל אביב תרצ”ה, עמ’ קמד. This quote and the next are taken from Lifshitz, Humor (see next footnote), pg. 11.
[5] דוד ליפשיץ, איפיונו ותיפקודו שההומור בתלמוד, חיבור לשם קבלת התואר דוקטור לפילוסופיה, רמת גן תשנ”ה. I have not read enough of the doctorate to get a feel for how good of a job he did. One major lack in this work is an index, especially since such a large amount of texts from the Talmud are quoted.  It is often difficult to find where a source is discussed.
[6] אפרים דוידזון, שחוק פינו, חולון תשל”ב. The layout is very similar to that of Bialik’s “Sefer Ha’agadah,” which Davidson was clearly influenced by. Many translations of passages from Aramaic to Hebrew are taken from Sefer Ha’agadah (with ascription).
[7] See, for example, בנימין יוסף פארקאש, עת לשחוק, הוסיאטין תרע”ד.
[8] These sources in the Gemara are brought by Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 158-183. See also a wide variety of sources in this vein which are brought and discussed by E.E Urbach in his Sages (Hebrew ed.), pg. 557- 564.
[9] R’ Yitzchak
Blau, at the beginning of a lecture entitled “Does the Talmud have a Sense of
Humor?” (available on YU Torah) only
mentions the following categories “play on words”; “slapstick”; “sharp lines”.
He does not mention critical humor, even though it is fairly common in the
Gemara, for obvious reasons. As an aside most of the lecture is not about the
Talmud and humor, but how someone should spend his free time. R’ Blau’s opinion
on the matter has caused some controversy, see Hirhurim blog here
and here.
[10] The Soncino translation is now available in the public domain, see Torah Musings blog here.
[11] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 160.
[12] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 165
[13] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 172.
[14] Siman 152.
[15] In later editions of Chafetz Chaim, this addition is generally printed at the end.
[16] In דור לדור: משלהי תקופת
המקרא ועד חתימית התלמוד, ירושלים תשנ”ה, עמ’ 235-250.
[17] R’ Kashet made a similar list of basic characteristics (in Hebrew “לשיטתם”), this time with specific Tannaim and Amoraim, in his earlier, \just as impressive, קובץ יסודות וחקירות (Yerushalayim 2004). The issue of “Leshitasam” is a fascinating topic in its own right. Research into this topic only began in the mid-eighteenth century, especially with the publishing of R’ D.Z. Hoffman’s (German) Mar Samuel. This sefer/book caused a small storm \in its time.
[18] Quoted by
Twersky, Rabad of Posquierres, Cambridge 1962, pg. 121 n. 24. See
Twersky there for more such examples. For a list of hassagos of this sort in
the Ra’avad’s hassagos on Mishneh Torah, see Davidson, Moses Maimonides: The
Man and His Works,
Oxford 2005, in the chapter on Mishneh Torah.
[19] R’ Asher
Reichel, Isaac Halevy, New York 1969, pg. 64-65.
[20] Pg. 564
(idem, footnote 10).
[21] The Gemara
itself seems to say so explicitly. See the story in Sanhedrin 31a, where the
Gemara first brings a halacha regarding a member of a beis din that has just paskened:
תנו רבנן מניין לכשיצא לא יאמר הריני מזכה וחבירי מחייבין אבל מה אעשה שחבירי רבו עלי תלמוד לומר (ויקרא יט, טז) לא תלך רכיל בעמך ואומר (משלי יא, יג) הולך רכיל מגלה סוד
The Gemara then goes on to bring the following story:
ההוא תלמידא דנפיק עליה קלא דגלי מילתא דאיתמר בי מדרשא בתר עשרין ותרתין שנין אפקיה רב אמי מבי מדרשא אמר דין גלי רזיא:
It is not clear what the nature of the “secret” thing that had happened in the beis medrash was. Rashi simply says that the talmid
spoke lashon hara. It is possible that in the heated discussion in the beis medrash, someone had made an off the cuff remark that was not meant to be heard outside the walls of the beis medrash. When the talmid revealed what was said 22(!) years later, he was expelled from the beis medrash for his impropriety. Alternatively, it is possible that he had revealed some internal disagreement about a halacha that the Chachamim wanted to appear unanimous, similar to the case of the psak of a beis din brought before. Either way, the story proves our point.



New Seforim, books, random comments and Benny Brown’s Work on the Chazon Ish

New Seforim, books, random comments and Benny Brown’s Work on the Chazon Ish.
By Eliezer Brodt

As a courtesy to our readers, below I provide a list of some new seforim and books that I recently have purchased or become aware of. Some are brand-new, others have been out already for a few months. Some of these books, will be reviewed at great length at a later date, B”n. As I note, I have copies of the TOC of some of the works mentioned here, feel free to e mail me if you want a copy of the TOC.

ספרים
1. המעשים לבני ארץ ישראל, יד בן צבי, מהדיר: הלל ניומן.
2. פסקי הרי”ד, מסכת חולין, מכון תלמוד הישראלי
3. תשובות מהר”ם מרוטנבורג וחבירו, על ידי שמחה עמנואל, שני חלקים, 1251 עמודים, איגוד העולמי למדעי היהדות, כולל מבוא של 180 עמודים. ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.

This beautiful new work contains 501 teshuvot of Maharam Mi-rotenburg and his colleagues. Over 300 of these teshuvot were never printed before. Many of the others were only printed once before in a rare, little-known work of Y. Kahana.

4. פתחי שערים, ר’ יצחק אייזק חבר, עם הערות.
5. ר’ צבי פסח פרנק, הר צבי על התורה השלם, שס”ו עמודים.
6. ר’ דוב וואלף ליבשיץ, [אביו היה תלמיד של ר’ חיים מוואלז’ין] פרי חיים- כולל בתוכו באר חיים באור על סידור התפילה, רוח חיים באור על קהלת, מעין חיים חלק א חידוש תורה עם תולדות המחבר ומשפחתו, 260 עמודים בערך.
7. ר’ מנחם די לונזנו, דרך חיים, אהבת שלום, כולל מבוא חשוב, מפתחות והערות, שצ”ב עמודים. I will hopefully be dealing with this work at greater length in a future post shortly.
8. ר’ ישכר טייכטאל הי”ד, משנת שכיר, מועדים, ב’ חלקים.
9. ר’ שמואל אויערבאך, אהל רחל, חנוכה פורים, קצ עמודים.
10. חידוש הגר”מ הלוי סולוביצ’יק, מהדורא תנינא.
11. פתח הדביר, ה’ חלקים על שולח ערוך אורח חיים.
12. ר’ שלמה אלפאנדארי, יקהל שלמה, מערכת וזכרונות בהלכה ואגדה, חלק א, אהבת שלום, רס עמודים.
13. ר’ אברהם בן שמואל הלוי אבן חסדאי, בן המלך והנזיר, סידרה שירת תור הזהב, עם הערות ומבוא מאת אילת עטינגר, 242 עמודים. ראה כאן
14. פירוש ר’ יצחק ב”ר יוסף על התורה, מגדולי הראשונים שבספרד, תלמיד חבר של הרשב”א, בראשית, שנט עמודים, י”ל ע”י ר’ דוד וזכריה הולצר.
15. ר’ איתם הנקין, לכם יהיה לאכלה, בירור להלכה בסוגיית חרקים במזון, 167 עמודים, ראה כאן
16. ר’ חיים הלפרין, חמדה טובה, על י”ג עיקרים, לייקוואוד, שצ”ה עמודים. ראה כאן
17. ראש יוסף על מסכת שבת, פרקים ה-ז, עם הערות מר’ אפרים בנימין שפירא, כולל הפתיחה כוללת להלכות שבת ומפתח ענינים, תקע”ח עמודים.
18. ר’ חיים לפידות, עשות פרי, במעלת חידושי תורה, כתיבתם, והוצאתם לאור עולם, תתקנד עמודים.
19. ר’ אהרן בריסק, אוצר הזמנים, בין השמשות השיטות ובירורים, תקצג עמודים.
20. ר’ עובדיה יוסף, חזון עבודה שבת חלק ד.
21. ר’ משה היילפרין, זכרון משה על פירוש רש”י ורא”ם, עם מבוא והערות על ידי, ר’ פינחס קריגער, 249 עמודים, כולל הרבה חומר שלא נדפס במהדורת פייליפ.
22. ר’ יעקב גרייזמאן, ברוך ומקודש, דיני ברכת כהנים הנוגעים לישראל המתברך, דיני מצות וקדשתו ואיסור השתמשות בכהן, רסה עמודים.
23. רבנו חיים כסאר, דרך החיים, מצות תלמוד תורה ודרכי קניינה, מכון מרא”ה, קפ עמודים.
24. ר’ מרדכי הלפרן, רפואה מציאות והלכה, ולשון חכמים מרפא,546 עמודים, [מלא חומר חשוב], ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.
25. מציאות ורפואה בסדר נשים, עורך ר’ מרדכי הלפרין מהדורה שניה מורחבת, 462 עמודים, ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.
26. ר’ משה לייטער, צום העשרי על צום עשרת בטבת, רפז עמודים.
27. ר’ יצחק טסלר, פניני מנהג, ימי חנוכה ג’ חלקים. כריכה רכה מהדורת כיס.
28. ר’ מנחם גיאת, תורת חכם, אוצר דיני תלמיד חכם, שני חלקים, 1034 עמודים.

מחקר –היסטוריה

29. בן איש חי’ תולדותיו קורתיו ומורשתו לדורות, ניתן לקבל דוגמא מהספר אצלי.
This is a beautifully album size work on the Ben Ish Hai, including many rare documents and pictures.
30. ר’ יעקב ישראל סטל, סגולה, ספר ראשון, 153 עמודים, עיונים וברורים במנהג והלכה, פיוט מדרש ואגדה, נדפס במהדורה מצומצמת של 350 עותקים בלבד. ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים וחלק מפרק לדוגמא.
This work is a excellent collection of articles on topics not usually written about, by others, full of interesting observations from an extremely rich and wide range of sources.
31. השלשלת מאיש לספר, אבישי יורב, ב’ חלקים, ראה כאן.
32. צורה ועריכה בספרות חז”ל, אברהם גולדברג ראה כאן.
33. כרמי שלי, מחקרים באגדה ובפרשנותה מושגים לפרופ’ כרמי הורוביץ, מכון לנדר. ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.
34. דוד סורוצקין, אורתודוקסיה ומשטר המודרניות, קיבוץ המאוחד 443 עמודים. ראה כאן
Some of the topics, dealt with in the book, are about the Maharal, R’. Yehudah Aryeh Modena, R’. Yaakov Emden and the Satmar Rebbe.
35. חנה כשר, על המינים האפיקורסים והכופרים במשנת הרמב”ם, קיבוץ המאוחד, 212 עמודים. ראה כאן.
36. ראשית חכמה, חיבור פולמוסי כנגד חסידים, 120 עמודים, מהדירים: יונתן מאיר ושמואל ורסס י”ל פעם ראשונה מכ”י. This is a critical edition of another very early work from an anonymous author attacking Chasidim. It is unclear if it’s from a maskil or a traditionalist talmid chacham. Much of it deals with attacking the Shivchei Habesht.
37. דניאל בוארין, מדרש תנאים, אינטרטסטואליות וקריאת מכילתא, הרטמן, 319 עמודים.
38. ר’ דוב בער שווארץ, משיב דברים, רעג עמודים, מאמרים ומכתבים בעניני היסטוריה.
39. ר’ חנניה ברוין, דרכי משה החדש, תולדות המהר”ם שיק, ש”ל עמודים.
40. ר’ דב אליאך, אבי הישיבות, תולדות חייו ומשנתו של ר’ חיים חיים מוולאז’ין וסיפורה של ישיבות וולאזי’ן מהדורה מורחבת, 719 עמודים.
41. עמנואל אטקס, בעל התניא, רבי שניאור זלמן מלאדי וראשיתה של חסידות חב”ד, מרכז זלמן שזר, 495 עמודים.
42. יונתן מאיר, רחובות הנהר, קבלה ואקזוטריות בירושלים (תרנ”ו-תשח) יד בן צבי, ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.
43. טוב עלם: זיכרון קהילה ומגדר בחברות יהודיות בימי הביניים ובראשית העת החדשה,ספר היובל לכבוד ראובן בונפיל, ביאליק, ניתן לקבל תוכן ענינים.
44. יוסף דן, תולדות תרות הסוד העברית ימי הביניים, חלק ז, מרכז זלמן שזר,480 עמודים
45. ספר תא שמע שני חלקים, מחקרים במדעי היהדות לזכרו של ישראל תא-שמע, הוצאת תבונות, 910 עמודים, ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים. This collection is simply incredible, full of great articles on a wide range of topics.
46. שירת רבנו תם, מהדיר יצחק מיזליש, 185 עמודים.
47. חוה קליין, מתיר העגונות, 160 עמודים חיבור על אביה, ר’ שלמה זלמן קליין
48. רוח המשפט, מיכאל אברהם.
49. תלמידי הגר”א בארץ ישראל, היסטוריה, הגות, ריאליה, עורכים: ישראל רוזנסון ויוסף ריבלין, ניתן לקבל תוכן הענינים.
50. אפרים חמיאל,הדרך הממוצעת ראשית צמיחת הדתיות המודרנית, על שד”ל רב שמשון רפאל הירש, מהר”ץ חיות, הוצאת כרמל.
51. קובץ עץ חיים גליון טז, ניתן לקבל תוכן העינים.
52. עלי ספר חלק כב אפשר לראות תוכן ענינים כאן
53. קובץ המעין, גליון 200, ניתן לראות כל קובץ כאן.
54. ספר זכרון דגל מחנה ראובן, לזכרו של רבי ראובן אליצור,תקמג עמודים.
This work is composed of a few parts. One part is a biography of R. Reuven Elitzur. There are many interesting tidbits about life Eretz a seventy years ago. R. Elitzur was the long-serving librarian in Sifrat HaRambam in Tel Aviv, and was very knowledgeable about seforim. When asked about the story of the Maharal and the Golem, he said its baloney and was made up much later (p. 312). The second part of the work is a collection of historical articles that R. Elitzur wrote in various newspapers, especially against works written by maskilim (or people whom he claimed were maskilim). Among the topics he wrote about were R. Moshe Kunitz, the Cheshbon Hanefesh and Benjamin Franklin, R. Wolf Heidenheim, R. Zalman Hanau and much more. As R. Elitzur was R. Nissim Karelitz’s chavrusa for many years, some of his articles have the approval of R. Karelitz, such as his attack on publishers for printing Kunitz’s work Beis Rabbi in the introduction of Mishnayos Zeraim. R. Elitzur also used to provide rare seforim for R Chaim Kanievsky, such as the critical edition of the Sheva Massechtos published by Michael Higger which R. Kanievsky mentions in the introduction of his work on Geirim without mentioning Higger’s name.

One last issue related to the last two items mentioned on this list; a few months back Dr. Benny Brown’s magnum opus on the Chazon Ish was printed by Magnes Press, as mentioned here on the Seforim Blog. The book sold out in two weeks – one thousand copies! It was reprinted shortly afterward and copies are still available. Shortly after the book appeared, with much surprise, various attacks began on different forums on the Web (see, e.g., here, here, here, here, here and here). One attack was written under a pen name in the Yated Neeman. Shortly afterward, a more restrained and respectful attack was published by the same author – under his real name, Yehoshua Levine, in the journal Ha-Maayan available for reading here. In the most recent edition of the Ha-Maayan Benny Brown responded, and it is available here. One issue not really dealt with in Levine’s review is that the bulk of Brown’s huge book (951 pages) is about the Halacha of the Chazon Ish, not his history, and whether Brown get that right or not. Levine claims he has an article on that part too, which has yet to be printed. If one is interested in this unpublished part of Levine’s attack e-mail me. In my opinion this part of the article needs a lot of work. As for the other parts, I will let the readers decide for themselves, but I am not at all convinced that Levine is correct in the overall picture.

One of the issues raised by Levine, and many others, was about Brown’s claim that the Chazon Ish had a religious crisis in his youth. They do not find Brown’s proof for this convincing. However, it seems that Brown is most likely correct, although one can never know to what extent this crisis was. In the above mentioned work, Sefer Zichron Degel Machaneh Reuven, they print a hesped given in Bnei Brak by R. Yakov Edelstein, a close friend of R. Elitzur. R. Edelstein also knew the Chazon Ish, and his brother is one of the Roshei Yehsiva of Ponevezh today. R. Edlestein said at this hesped, after quoting the famous Rav Hutner on stories of gedolim in their youth:

ואנשים שהתפרסמו לא נולדו ככה, הם עברו הרבה נסיונות והרבה קשיים, על החזון איש לא מספרים על הילדות שלו, על המלחמות שהיה לו בילדותו והצליח לנצח בהם. החפץ חיים סיפר על עצמו שכשהיה בחור צעיר אולי בגיל בר מצווה, כמעט שנפל במלכודת של המשכלים, שהיו תופסים ילדים בעלי כשרונות, ומתחברים אליהם ומקלקלים אותם, ואמר על עצמו שהו’ עזר לו ונתן לו שכל להיות גיבור ולעמוד בניסונות ולהינצל (ספר זכרון דגל מחנה ראובן עמ’ כג).

Another issue that Levine and others raise is that Brown did not interview any family members or close talmidim of the Chazon Ish. I wonder why there is no mention of R. Gedalyah Nadel in the book. However, a very strong defense for Brown in my eyes is found in a short article written by Prof. Saul Leiberman in the journal Bitzaron printed in 1981, which I was shocked to not see it mentioned in Brown’s book or bibliography. One of Brown’s sources throughout the book is Chaim Grade masterpiece Tzemach Atlas and Milchemes Hayetzer (printed as The Yeshiva in English, trans. by Curt Leviant). Although this book is a novelization of the people and period, almost all the details are true, including all the parts about the Chazon Ish, whom Grade knew very well as he learned and lived with him for many years. I have heard from various people that Chaim Grade had an amazing knack to really penetratingly see into people (see here for one great example). Others told me Grade was 100% on the mark regarding the Chazon Ish. One great person told me that it’s a shame that Grade was not good in learning, than he would have been able to give us a similar write up in that area too. Thus it should be seen as a fairly reliable source (with appropriate caution). Now, Saul Leiberman was a relative of the Chazon Ish, who was very close to him in both Europe and in Eretz a (see Lieberman’s small article about this in Mechkarim Betorat Eretz Yisrael pp.608-611). So he is a good person to see what he would say about Grade’s portrayal of the Chazon Ish. Lieberman writes that in 1946 his brother Meir Lieberman – as an aside this brother was much more Orthodox than Lieberman – gave him a work that he said he must read- it was from Grade. Leiberman writes:

כיצד אפשר לחסוף טובה מאדם מישראל בפרט מאחי ובשרי התחלתי על כן לקרוא בקונטרסן בחיוך, אולם מיד חשתי כי נעלם החיוך מפני ואני לובש רצינות יותר ויותר עד שהרגשתי בענן הכבד שנחת עלי הוספתי לקראו מהחל עד כלה…

Lieberman goes onto describe how he met Grade in New York and how he loved to read his articles in the paper weekly.

התחלתי לקרוא את הפרוזה בעתון ללא דילוג אף שבוע אחד, רציתי לנחש כיצד יתפתח הסיפור ומה יהיה בסופה של המעשיה. עלי להודות שלא הצלחתי בניחושי דבר שלא הייתי רגיל לו בעבודתי המדעית וחקר טכסטים…

Then Lieberman writes about Grade’s description of the Chazon Ish as follows:

כאשר קראתי את צמח אטלס נתמלאתי השתוממות לדיוק התיאורים מלבד הגיבור הראשי צמח אטלס, שהנהו דמות חזונית מרכבת מאידיאות מאליפות, הכרתתי כמעט כל הנפשות הפועולת ברומן הישיבה של גראדה…בעל המחזה אברהם [א.ב. החזון איש]… אף אחד לא היה יכול לתארם ביתר נאמנות…

For me it puts to rest the issue if Brown’s work is based on sources of people who knew the Chazon Ish. Many thanks, to Chanan Gafni for informing me about this small article of Lieberman’s.

I would like to conclude with three comments regarding Brown’s book.

One, throughout the work Brown refers the reader to the appendix of his doctorate which contains an interview that he conducted with Dr. Tzvi Yehudah. This interview is full of great material, and in my opinion should have printed as an appendix in the back of the Magnes book.

Two, in Brown’s discussion of the famous controversy on how to write the letter Tzadi, an important source not mentioned can be found in Prof. Shlomo Zalman Havlin’s article in Alei Sefer (12:13-20).

Three, Brown claims that the Chazon Ish’s writings and language shows he was familiar with haskalah literature. I have no problem with such a claim I just wanted a few actual samples.

There was another review written about Dr. Brown book by Sholomo Tikochinski printed in the latest issue of Akdamus. See also this post.

Small announcement- sale.

There is a special sale on the 11 volume set of Chaim Chamiel’s work on Targum, 100 Shekel for the complete set. Contact Reuven Mass at rmass@barak.net.il.




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

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

by Eli Rubin

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

This is his first essay at the Seforim Blog.

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

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

Introduction – From Liozna to Liadi

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

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

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

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

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

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

Transcendence and Interiority

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Making of a Tzaddik[22]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Grunwald’s words:

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

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

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

Cerebral Love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of Angels and Other Things

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subjective Transformation

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

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

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

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

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

Notes:

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

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

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