Rabbi Steinman and the Messiah, part 3

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here

1. In the last post I wrote: “R. Hayyim Soloveitchik is reported to have said that if the messianic era will bring even one Jewish death, then he doesn’t want it, and if we had a choice in the matter the halakhah would require us to reject the Messiah in such a circumstance.” A perspective quite different than that of R. Hayyim was offered by R. Menahem Mendel of Rimanov. He thought that it would be good if Jews, even many Jews, were killed during Napoleon’s war against Russia, as he believed that this loss of life would bring the redemption.[1]

ואמר כי לדעתו טוב שישפכו דם ישראל ומפריסטיק עד רימנוב ילכו עד ארכבותיהם בדם ישראל כדי שיהי’ הקץ לגאולתנו

R. Moshe Sternbuch has an interesting passage, the upshot of which is that we shouldn’t be so anxious for the Messiah to come, as from at least one perspective, namely, the reward given those who observe the Torah in the pre-messianic era, it is better for us without the Messiah.[2]

וקבלה שמעתי שכמה צדיקים וקדושי עליון לפני פטירתם אמרו כשיעלו למרום לא ינוחו אלא יתחננו ויפצירו שמשיח יבוא ונזכה כבר לגאולה, ובאו אח”כ לתלמידיהם בחלום וגילו שבעולם האמת רואים את הכל אחרת, כשרואים את השכר הגדול הגנוז לעולמים למי ששומר אמונים כראוי לתורה ומצוות בסוף הגלות בזמן הסתר תוך הסתר, אינו [!] מפציר כ”כ לביאת המשיח שאז לא יהא כבר נסיונות ושכר רב, וכ”ש בני תורה בזמנינו שהם כצבא ה’, שכר כפול ומכופל

There are a few more things about the Messiah that I could not include in the last post. I mentioned reasons why rabbinic leaders offered dates for the Messiah’s arrival even though the Talmud, Sanhedrin 97b, states: “Blasted be the bones of those who calculate the end (i.e., the Messiah’s arrival).” I neglected to quote the even stronger passage in Derekh Eretz Rabbah, ch. 11:

רבי יוסי אומר הנותן את הקץ אין לו חלק לעולם הבא

An interesting perspective is suggested by R. Isaac Abarbanel who claims that the opposition to calculating the date of the Messiah was only directed against those who do it by astrological means. However, the talmudic sages did not oppose those who calculate the end by using biblical texts. He also adds that this lack of opposition is only when those who offer predictions are clear that their predictions are not absolute.[3]

I mentioned the concept of Messiah ben Joseph. It is worth noting that Samuel Feigenzohn argues that any passage in rabbinic literature that mentions Messiah ben Joseph, such as Sukkah 52a-b, is a heretical insertion by the early Christians and refers to Jesus (son of Joseph)![4]

Regarding R. Akiva and Bar Kokhba, it is significant that R. Jonathan Eybeschuetz writes that R. Akiva declared Bar Kokhba the Messiah, not because he really believed this – although presumably he had hope that it might be the case – but in order to give strength to the Jewish people, so that they not despair in the face of all their difficulties. In doing so, R. Akiva was following in the path of earlier sages and even prophets who also proclaimed that the Redemption was near even though they did not believe this, or at least were not certain of this. R. Eybeschuetz even sees the rabbinic obligation to observe certain agricultural laws in parts of the Diaspora as part of this plan to keep Jews believing in the soon-to-come Redemption.[5]

ואמר במדרש [איכה פ”א נד] קראתי למאהבי המה רמוני, הם נביאים שתקנו תרומה וחלה בבבל, וכי חייב חוץ לארץ בתרומה, אלא שרמוני. והקשה היפה ענף, ודאי שאמרו להם כי מהתורה פטור רק הם תקנוהו, כי ח”ו לומר להם דין שקר על דבר שמהתורה . . פטור, ולהורות שלא כהלכה, ועל כן תפוג תורה, וכמה מכשולים יבואו על ידי כך, ולאין ספק שאמרו להם שהוא רק חומרא וגזירה שלהם, וא”כ מה רמוני, ומה ערמה יש בזה . . .

אבל הענין, כי אילו ידעו ישראל ההולכים בגולה שיהיה קץ כל כך ארוך, וישבו זמן רב כזה בעוונותינו הרבים בגולה, היו מאבדים עצמם לדעת לרוב השבר, והיה נאבד שארית יעקב, ובפרט בזמן השמדות, בעו”ה לא היו אוזרים חיל כל כך לעמוד בנסיון. ולכך התחכמו תמיד לקרב הקץ, לומר חזו דאתא, חזו דאתא, ובזה חזקו ידים רפות וברכים כושלות אמצו. ותמיד בבוא עקא וגזירא לישראל, תלו אותו בחבלי משיח לומר, הנה מלכנו יבא ויושיענו. ולכך רבי עקיבא תיכף אחר חורבן התחיל לומר משיח על בן כוזיבא וכדומה, כולם כדי לחזק ומבלי להכניע לבבות בני ישראל. ולכך נסתם ונסתר הקץ, שלא ידעו אריכות הגלות.

ועל זה צווח ירמיה (ירמיה יג, יז) במסתרים תבכה נפשי, וכוונתו על קץ שהוא נסתר כל כך עד שלבא לפומא לא גליא, על זה תבכה נפשי, כי זהו לאות שיהיה לזמן ארוך למאוד מאד. והנה לכך הנביאים וחכמי קדם התחכמו לתקוע בלבב ישראל כי קרובה ישועת ה’ לבוא, ובל יתייאשו מן רחמים, ולכך תקנו תרומות ומעשרות בחוץ לארץ באומרם הטעם, מחר ישובו לארץ ישראל ויאמרו כמו שאכלנו בחוץ לארץ בלי תרומה כן בארץ ישראל נאכל בלי תרומה, ושם חיוב גמור, ולכך תקנו אף בחוץ לארץ, והרגל נעשה טבע, וזהו אם הגאולה מהר מהר, אבל אם היא לזמנים ארוכים, ויעברו קרוב לב’ אלפים שנה, מה צורך לתיקון הזה, הלא דורי דורות לא יצטרכו לזה, והנח לחכמים שיהיו בדור אחרון, ואם כן ברואים ישראל שתיקנו כך, ישפטו לאות אמת כי תהיה מהר הגאולה, וזו היתה עורמת נביאים וחכמים.

וזהו אמרו, קראתי למאהבי המה רמוני, כי תקנו תרומות ומעשרות בחוץ לארץ, שאחשוב שישועה תהיה מהר, ובעו”ה עברו דורי דורות, ואין קול ישועה.

In terms of hoping for the Messiah’s arrival, R. Moses Sofer makes a fascinating point. He claims that to pray for the Messiah to come shows a lack of faith, because God has already promised that we will be redeemed. Therefore, he says that one should pray that the Messiah come speedily as this is something extra that has not been promised.[6]

אע”פ שבטוחים אנחנו בביאת המשיח והמתפלל עליו הוא מחסרון אמונה אבל מ”מ יתפלל שימהר ויחיש במהרה בימינו

Once the Messiah arrives, he stills needs to be accepted by the people. Thus, R. Yaakov Kamenetsky stated that the Messiah will have to be a real Torah scholar so that the Litvaks accept him, he will have to pray with enthusiasm so the hasidim accept him, he will have to fight against the evildoers so the zealots accept him, and he will have to rebuild the Land of Israel and work on its behalf so the Religious Zionists accept him.[7]

Let me make another point about the Messiah. The Jerusalem Talmud, Kilayim 9:3 states:

רבי מאיר הוה אידמך ליה באסייא אמר אימורין לבני ארעא דישראל הא משיחכון דידכון

ArtScroll translates:

R’ Meir was dying in Asia. He said [to those surrounding him], “Tell the residents of Eretz Yisrael, ‘This your great one [who has passed away here. Please assist in bringing him to Eretz Yisrael for burial].’”

The first thing I should mention is that there should have been a note on the word “Asia,” as most people who see this word this think about territory such as Russia or China. However, as Jastrow points out, when the word appears in rabbinic literature it usually refers to what we call Asia Minor, which is today part of Turkey.[8] Interestingly, Jastrow himself, following Adolphe Neubauer, assumes that in this case what the Talmud refers to is a town called Essa, east of the Sea of Galilee.[9] However, the commentators, both traditional and academic, generally agree that the Talmud here refers to Asia Minor.

The last part of the sentence has R. Meir saying הא משיחכון דידכון. What does this mean? The literal translation is “This is your Messiah.” Is it possible that R. Meir would refer to himself this way? ArtScroll thinks not and in its note justifies its translation as follows:

The term משיחה is used sometimes in the sense of authority and greatness [and not anointment] (Rashi to Exodus 29:29, from Sifri, Korach §2). That seems to be its sense here.

ArtScroll’s approach is found in the standard commentaries to the Yerushalmi, including that of R. Hayyim Kanievsky, but other approaches have also been suggested.[10]

2. Returning to the passage from R. Hayyim quoted at the beginning of this post, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik had a different perspective than his grandfather.[11] Here is what he writes in Kol Dodi Dofek, available here

Second, the knock of the Beloved was heard on the battlefield. The tiny defense forces of ‎‎[the ‎State of] Israel defeated the mighty Arab armies. The miracle of “the many delivered into ‎the ‎hands of the few” materialized before our eyes, and an even greater miracle happened! ‎God ‎hardened the heart of Ishmael and commanded him to go into battle against the State of ‎Israel. ‎Had the Arabs not declared war on Israel and instead supported the Partition Plan, the State ‎of ‎Israel would have remained without Jerusalem, without a major portion of the Galilee, ‎and ‎without some areas of the Negev.

R. Soloveitchik sees it as a positive thing that God hardened the hearts of the Arabs so that they went to war against Israel, allowing Israel to conquer more territory than it was given in the Partition Plan. Yet this war brought about many deaths, so wouldn’t R. Hayyim say, “How can we see this as a good thing, and a miracle no less, that God ‘hardened the heart of Ishmael’?”

In a talk after the Six Day War, R. Soloveitchik offers what appears to be a different perspective than what I just quoted, as he stresses the importance of human life over territory, including the Western Wall. The following appears on the Mesora.org website here and was originally posted here.[12] I have underlined the crucial words for the purposes of this post.

Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik on Territorial Compromise

[Translation of a five-minute segment of the Rav’s 1967 Teshuva drasha (although the drasha was summarized in “Al Hateshuva”, this portion never appeared. From Arnold Lustiger)

I don’t intend here to engage in politics, but this is a matter that has weighed heavily upon me since last June. I am very unqualified to assess the extent of the deliverance that the Ribono Shel Olam accomplished on behalf of Klal Yisrael and the Jewish victory over those who hate Israel. But in my opinion, the greatest deliverance, and the greatest miracle, is simply that He saved the population of Israel from total annihilation. Don’t forget that the Arabs were Hitler’s students, Amalek, and in regard to the Arabs there is a Mitzvah of utterly blotting out Amalek’s memory. Today, they are Hitler, they want to uproot the Jewish people, and it is possible that Russia is together with them in this regard, so the status of Amalek falls upon Russia as well. The blood congeals when one considers what would have happened to the Yishuv, to the hundreds of thousands of religious Jews, of gedolei Yisrael, or to all the Jews in Israel for that matter — “there is no difference” — all Jews are Jews. This is the greatest salvation — but also that the State itself was saved. Because even if the population would remain alive, but if God forbid the State of Israel would fall, there would be a wave of assimilation and apostasy in America as well as in all Western countries. In England I heard that Rothschild said that Israel’s victory saved Judaism in France. He is 100% correct — this was better articulated by him than many Rabbis in Israel regarding the ultimate significance of the victory.

But one thing I want to say. These reasons constitute the primary salvation behind the Six Day War. Indeed, we rejoice in the [capture of] the Western Wall, in the Cave of the Patriarchs, in Rachel’s tomb. I understand the holiness of the Kotel Hamaarovi. I studied Kodshim since I was a child: Kidsha le’asid lavo, kedushas makom, kedushas mechitzos, lifnei Hashem — these are concepts with which I grew up in the cradle. The Kotel Hamaarovi is very dear, and the Har Habayis is very dear to me: I understand the kedusha perhaps much more than many religious journalists who have written so much about the Kotel Hamaarovi. But we exaggerate its importance. Our Judaism is not a religion of shrines, and it seems from this that it lies in the interests of the Ministry of Religions to institute a [foreign] concept of holy sites in Judaism — a concept we never had.

We indeed have the concept of kedushas mokom, this is the Bais Hamikdash, [but] graves are not mekomos hakedoshim. As important as kivrei tzaddikim are, they are not holy. Perhaps there is a different halacha. To visit kivrei tzaddikim is important, like mekomos hakedoshim. I will tell you a secret — it doesn’t matter under whose jurisdiction the Kotel Hamaarovi lies — whether it is under the Ministry of Parks or under the Ministry of Religions, either way no Jew will disturb the site of the Kotel Hamaarovi. One is indeed on a great spiritual level if he desires to pray at the Kotel Hamaarovi. But many mistakenly believe that the significance of the victory lies more in regaining the Kotel Hamaarovi than the fact that 2 million Jews were saved, and that the Malkhut Yisrael was saved. Because really, a Jew does not need the Kotel Hamaarovi to be lifnei (in front of) Hashem. Naturally, mikdash has a separate kedusha which is lifnei Hashem. But there is a lifnei Hashem which spreads out over the entire world, wherever a Jew does not sin, wherever a Jew learns Torah, wherever a Jew does mitzvos, “minayen sheshnayim yoshvim ve’oskim beTorah hashechinah imahem” — through the entire world.

I want you to understand, I give praise and thanks to the Ribono Shel Olam for liberating the Kotel Hamaarovi and for liberating and for removing all Eretz Yisrael from the Arabs, so that it now belongs to us. But I don’t need to rule whether we should give the West Bank back to the Arabs or not to give the West Bank to the Arabs. We Rabbis should not be involved in decisions regarding the safety and security of the population. These are not merely Halakhic rulings. These decisions are a matter of pikuach nefesh for the entire population. And if the government were to rule that the safety of the population requires that specific territories must be returned, whether I issue a halakhic ruling or not, their decision is the deciding factor.

If pikuach nefesh supersedes all other mitzvos, it supersedes all prohibitions of the Torah, especially pikuach nefesh of the yishuv in Eretz Yisrael. And all the silly statements I read in the newspapers — one journalist says that we must give all the territory back, another says that we must give only some territory back, another releases edicts, strictures and warnings not to give anything back. These Jews are playing with 2 million lives. I will say that as dear as the Kotel Hamaarovi is, the 2 million lives of Jews are more important.[13] We have to negotiate with common sense, as the security of the yishuv requires. What specifically these security requirements are, I don’t know, I don’t understand these things. These decisions require a military perspective, which one must research assiduously. The borders that must be established should be based upon that which will provide more security. It is not a topic appropriate for which rabbis should release statements or for rabbinical conferences.

3. In the last post I mentioned a couple of great rabbis from earlier eras, and how the praise they were offered for mastering the Talmud is nowhere near what is said about great rabbis in more recent years. A few people emailed me with examples of how different rabbis in modern times are praised for having completed Shas twenty or thirty times. R. Kook’s father stated that when his son, R. Abraham Isaac Kook, was in Volozhin he completed 60blatta day be-iyun.[14] Chaim Meiselman, whose videos about seforim can be seen here, called my attention to R. Samuel Darmstadt of Mannheim (died 1782),[15] who is reported to have completed Shas 112 times.[16] But this is nothing compared to what R. Shlomo Lorincz writes about R. Moshe Feinstein. He reports in the name of R. Reuven Feinstein that R. Moshe completed Shas over two hundred times. (R. Reuven denies having said this.) If that is not enough to impress you, he also states that R. Moshe finished Tractate Shabbat every week, and he quotes an unnamed member of R. Moshe’s family who claims to have been at a siyum where R. Moshe completed Shabbat for the thousandth time.[17] One would think that a member of the Kenesset for over thirty years would know enough not to repeat such an obviously ridiculous and impossible story.

4. In June 2018 Yaacov Sasson published a letter, found in the Israel State Archives, from R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik to President Chaim Herzog dealing with R. Meir Kahane. See here. In two later posts it was claimed that this letter is a forgery. See here and here. After careful analysis, I, too, agree that the letter is a forgery. (I also know that had I discovered the letter, I would have been very excited to publish it and would have never considered the possibility of forgery.)

Sasson does not mention that the Chaim Herzog archive also contains Herzog’s reply to the Rav upon receipt of the letter. One can only wonder what the Rav’s reaction was when he received this correspondence responding to the forged letter.

I found an interesting letter from Kahane in the Israel State Archives.[18] R. Dov Katz’s reply to Kahane is from December 22, 1954, which means that Kahane’s letter was written when he was 22 years old. Kahane’s letter was not addressed to an individual chief rabbi, but the Chief Rabbinate as a whole. It deals with something he was concerned with his entire life, namely, the place of non-Jews in the State of Israel. In his later years, Kahane was adamant that it was against halakhah for non-Jews to have any political role in Israel, including serving in the Knesset. Here we see that he was not sure about the matter, and wonders if the Meiri’s more liberal view on these sorts of issues should be our guide. It is not surprising that in his response R. Katz dodges the issue.

Regarding Kahane, a few days before his November 5, 1990 assassination, he delivered a public lecture at Brandeis University. I uploaded the video to YouTube.

In 1985 Kahane debated Brandeis Hillel Director Rabbi Albert Axelrad. Only a portion of this debate survives, and I have uploaded it to YouTube.

For R. Shear Yashuv Cohen’s response to Kahane, referring to him as an am ha-aretz, see here. Among other things he writes:

כל מי שחושב, שאפשר לקחת את הסעיפים מ”משנה-תורה” לרמב”ם ולהפוך אותם לחוק המדינה כמות שהם, בלי להתחשב בנסיבות, הוא לא רק עם-הארץ, הוא יותר מזה, הוא טועה ומטעה את הרבים. משום שהרמב”ם לעצמו היה כותב את הלכותיו בפני המדינה, עם בעיותיה העכשוויות, אחרת מאשר הוא כתב אותן בזמנו. לא שהתורה משתנית, חלילה, אלא המושגים החברתיים הם אחרים ולכן הניסוח של ההלכה מוכרח להיות מחודש. ניסוח של הלכה נצחית צריך להתמודד עם בעיות חדשות שעולות לפני הפוסק. אי אפשר לפסוק היום על סמך ניסוח קדום ומבלי להביא בחשבון את השינויים שחלו מאז ועד היום

4. During the Rosh ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur prayers there are times when we prostrate ourselves. Many people use a cloth for this even though technically, if the floor is not stone, there is no need. Where are people supposed to put the cloth, under their head or under their knees? I have looked around and also asked people from a variety of synagogues, including Modern Orthodox, yeshivish, and Hasidic. What I have learned is that while many put the cloth under their head, many also, in all sorts of Orthodox shuls, put it under their knees. In some shuls, almost everyone puts it under their knees.

The ArtScroll Machzors for Rosh ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur state the following in Musaf before Alenu (and I have underlined the relevant sentence):

The Torah forbids one to prostrate himself (i.e., with outstretched arms and legs) on a floor of hewn stone (Leviticus 26:1). The Sages forbade complete prostration even on a floor not of hewn stone, and they forbade even kneeling (without outstretched limbs) on a stone floor. Therefore, if the synagogue has a stone floor, one must cover the surface upon which he will kneel (Rama, Orach Chaim 131:8; Mishnah Berurah §40). There are some views, however, that it is preferable to cover the floor no matter what it is made of. This is the source of the general practice to put something on the floor when kneeling, even if the floor is surfaced with linoleum or carpeting.[19]

ArtScroll states that if there is a stone floor then you must cover the surface upon which you kneel. It doesn’t say to cover the surface upon which you place your head. This means that according to ArtScroll the cloth should be under your knees.

Yet this is mistaken, and the sources ArtScroll cites do not support this claim. Rama, Orah Hayyim 131:8 states:

וכן אסור לכל אדם ליפול על פניו בפישוט ידים ורגלים אפילו אם אין שם אבן משכית אבל אם נוטה קצת על צדו מותר אם אין שם אבן משכית וכן יעשו ביו”כ כשנופלין על פניהם אם יציעו שם עשבים כדי להפסיק בין הקרקע וכן נוהגין

The Rama says nothing about covering the surface where you kneel, and neither does the Mishnah Berurah. The point of the Rama is that on Yom Kippur, when you bring your head entirely to the ground – he does not mention doing this on Rosh ha-Shanah – that you need to have something separating between your head and the ground. The Mishnah Berurah, in the section directly after the one referred to by ArtScroll, 131:41, is explicit that the issue is one’s head touching the floor not one’s knees.

ודוקא כשפניו דבוקים בקרקע אבל אם שוחה בתפלה אפי’ יש שם רצפה שרי

A complete discussion of this issue, with the point of correcting the widespread error, is found in R. Elhanan Printz, Avnei Derekh, vol. 4, no. 99.[20]

5. Since theMishnah Berurah just quoted mentions the word רצפה, let me say something about this as well. There is a common mistake that many readers of Megillat Esther make. From speaking to people, and watching online videos, it seems that at least 75 percent of Ashkenazim who read the Megillah make this mistake. Among Sephardim it is significantly less.

Esther 1:6 reads:

ח֣וּר ׀ כַּרְפַּ֣ס וּתְכֵ֗לֶת אָחוּז֙ בְּחַבְלֵי־ב֣וּץ וְאַרְגָּמָ֔ן עַל־גְּלִ֥ילֵי כֶ֖סֶף וְעַמּ֣וּדֵי שֵׁ֑שׁ מִטּ֣וֹת ׀ זָהָ֣ב וָכֶ֗סֶף עַ֛ל רִֽצְפַ֥ת בַּהַט־וָשֵׁ֖שׁ וְדַ֥ר וְסֹחָֽרֶת

The fifth word from the end of the sentence reads רִֽצְפַת. However, when the Megillah is read this word is usually pronounced as ritzpat. This is a real mistake, the sort that should be corrected. Since it is not pleasant to correct the Megillah reader during the reading, the best thing is to speak to him (or her) beforehand.

The reason this mistake should be corrected is that if you read the word as ritzpat, it is actually a different word, with a different meaning, than the word that appears in the Megillah: רִֽצְפַת. In the Bible, the word for floor or pavement is רִֽצְפָה. There is no dagesh in the פ. For example, II Chron. 7:3 reads:

וַיִּכְרְעוּ֩ אַפַּ֨יִם אַ֤רְצָה עַל־הָרִֽצְפָה֙ וַיִּֽשְׁתַּֽחֲו֔וּ

Ritzpah, with a dagesh in the פ, means glowing stone or hot coal. See Isaiah 6:6:

וַיָּ֣עָף אֵלַ֗י אֶחָד֙ מִן־הַשְּׂרָפִ֔ים וּבְיָד֖וֹ רִצְפָּ֑ה בְּמֶ֨לְקַחַ֔יִם לָקַ֖ח מֵעַ֥ל הַמִּזְבֵּֽחַ

People make the mistake in reading the Megillah since in modern Hebrew, unlike biblical Hebrew, “floor” is ritzpah, with a dagesh in the פ. Eliezer Ben Yehudah in his dictionary, s.v. רצפה, already noted the mistake of Hebrew speakers (כטעות המדברים) who put a dagesh in the פ of רצפה when saying “floor”. Languages change so today we would not say that this is a mistake, but when reading from the Megillah on Purim it certainly is an error, and one that should be corrected.

Some people who are careful readers see that there is no dagesh in the פ and therefore read the word in the Megillah as ritzfat. However, this is also incorrect. If you look in the Bible you will find that all the times the words רצפה and רצפת appear there is a gaya after the ר. You can also see this in the two examples given above. This indicates that the shewa under the צ is a vocal shewa. There are different traditions as to how exactly to pronounce the vocal shewa, but all are in agreement that pronouncing this word as ritzfat is a mistake (though it is not a mistake that needs to be corrected). You can hear the outstanding ba’al keriah R. Jeremy Wieder read the verse here.

6. Since the publication of Changing the Immutable, I have discovered many more instances of censorship, almost enough for a volume 2. Readers have also alerted me to a number of examples, and let me now share one that I was recently sent.

In the Ralbag’s commentary on the Torah, for each parashah he includes all sorts of lessons under the heading תועלת. Here is a page from parashat miketz (in the Birkat Moshe edition).

In no. 13 Ralbag states that the Torah teaches us to avoid inappropriate sexual relations, which only people lacking in intelligence fall into. He adds that Reuben, who slept with Bilhah, is portrayed in the Torah as a חסר דעת, which I guess could be translated as “imbecile.” He gives another example of Reuben’s foolishness in that when attempting to reassure Jacob that he would bring Benjamin back to him after taking him down to Egypt, Reuben states: “Thou shalt slay my two sons, if I bring him not to thee.” Ralbag sees this as unbelievable stupidity, since if Jacob were to lose Benjamin, how would he be comforted by killing two of his own grandchildren?

Here is the corresponding page from the work Toaliyot ha-Ralbag (Jerusalem, 2006). This volume is a collection of all the Ralbag’s “lessons” from the parashiyot of the Torah.

As you can see, lesson no. 13 has been deleted. I am actually surprised that the publisher did not simply renumber the lessons, so people would not realize that no. 13 is missing. The “problem” with what Ralbag wrote is not simply his judgment about Reuben’s intelligence, but that he also understands Reuben to have slept with Bilhah, following the simple meaning of Genesis 35:22 as opposed to the talmudic explanation (Shabbat 55b) that the verse is not to be understood literally.[21]

Once again, we can only wonder where a 21^st century editor gets the idea that it is OK for him to censor the writings of one of the great rishonim.

7. In the past, I have shown how material I have posted on the Seforim Blog has appeared in other places, sometimes with acknowledgment and other times without. I also have shown how pictures posted here have become public domain and understandably no one even remembers where they first appeared, and this is indeed the case with all images posted online. Here is another example which I recently came across. In an earlier post I included this picture of myself with the late Rabbi Aharon Felder.

Both The Yeshiva World here and the Keystone-K Kashrus organization here have the following picture of R. Felder on their websites.

I am happy that in looking for a picture of R. Felder they thought that the one he took with me was nice enough to use. In a circumstance like this, there is nothing wrong with cropping the picture (unlike, for instance, in pictures of historical significance, like when R. Soloveitchik was removed from a picture with R. Aaron Kotler or the Hafetz Hayyim’s wife was removed from the famous picture of her standing behind her husband).

I had thought that in this post I would discuss R. Mordechai Elefant’s memoir and offer my take on it, but I see that the post is already long enough so I will return to this in the future.

***************

[1] R. Zvi Ezekiel Michaelson, Ateret Menahem, pp. 35b-36a (no. 182).
[2] Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 4, p. 206.
[3] Ma’aynei Yeshuah, printed in Abarbanel’s commentary to the Prophets, p. 283.
[4] Elbonah shel Torah (Berlin, 1929), pp. 24a-b. See similarly Joseph Judah Leib Sossnitz, Ha-Maor (Warsaw, 1889), p. 103.
[5] Ye’arot Devash, vol. 2, Derush 6 (p. 95 in the Jerusalem 1988 edition). See R. Chaim Rapoport, “Shitat ha-‘Ye’arot Devash’ be-Inyan Rabbi Akiva u-Ven Koziva,” Kovetz Divrei Torah 27 (5770), pp. 101-105. The words I have underlined were previously emphasized by R. Rapoport. Elsewhere, R. Eybeschuetz presents a different perspective and states that R. Akiva erred in declaring Bar Kokhba the Messiah. By saying that R. Akiva erred it means that R. Akiva really believed what he said. See Elyasaf Frisch in Ha-Ma’yan 57 (Nisan 5777), pp. 84-85. Because he views R. Eybeschuetz’s opinion as shocking, R. Yaakov Koppel Schwartz suggests that the passage, or at least the section dealing with Bar Kokhba, is not authentic but is either a “mistake” (whatever that is supposed to mean) or was inserted by an unknown heretic. See Yekev Efraim: Mikhtevei Torah, vol. 5, p. 215.

In discussing R. Akiva’s belief that Bar Kokhba was the Messiah, Maimonides writes (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melakhim 11:3):

והוא היה אומר עליו שהוא המלך המשיח ודמה הוא וכל חכמי דורו שהוא המלך המשיח עד שנהרג בעוונות

R. Zvi Yehudah Kook claimed that out of respect Maimonides did not use the wordטעהwith reference to R. Akiva and the other sages. Instead, he used the word דמה. See Yosef Badihi, Yosef Lekah (Jerusalem, 2012), p. 224. See, however, R. Chaim Rapoport, “Be-Inyan Ben Koziva ha-Melekh ve-ha-Lekah Mimenu le-Dorot,” Kovetz Hearot u-Veurim 920 (5766), pp. 11ff., who cites passages from the Mishneh Torah that show that when Maimonides uses the word דמה it means טעה.

One other point about the word דמה is worth noting. In the Bible you find this word, but you also find a similar word whose root is דמם. (There is a another word which also has the root דמה, and means “to cease”, see e.g., Lamentations 3:49. But I will not deal with it at present). The difference between דמה and דמם is seen clearly in a verse that we all know, as it is a part of the daily prayers (Exodus 15:16):

                          בִּגְדֹל זְרוֹעֲךָ יִדְּמוּ כָּאָבֶן

In this verse, the word ידמו comes from the root דמם. As noted by R. Seraya Deblitsky, in his haskamah to R. Yehudah Aryeh Gutman, Kelalei Ta’amei ha-Mikra (Brooklyn, 2001), it is vital that the ba’al keriah reads the word ידמו with a vocal shewa on the ד (indicated by the dagesh). The words then mean: “By the greatness of thine arm, they are as still as a stone.” If, however,  ידמו is read with a silent shewa, it means that the word comes from the root דמה. In that case, the verse means that the Egyptians “appear like a stone”. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it appears clear to me that if ידמו is read this way that the ba’al keriah should be corrected, as the word has a different meaning than what it should have.
[6] Torat Moshe ha-Shalem, vol. 2, p. 66 (parashat Be-Shalah, s.v. מה תצעק אלי). See R. Yaakov Koppel Schwartz, Likutei Diburim, vol. 3, p. 179.
[7] Emet le-Yaakov al Nevi’im u-Ketuvim (Jerusalem, 2015), p. 424 n. 4.
[8] Regarding this place, see Michael Guttmann, Mafteah ha-Talmud, vol. 3, s.v. אסיא.
[9] Neubauer, La géographie du Talmud (Paris, 1868), p. 38.
[10] See e.g., R. Zechariah Frankel, Darkhei ha-Mishnah (Leipzig, 1859), p. 155 n. 7, who suggests a textual emendation. For other suggestions, see R. Jacob Brill, Mavo ha-Mishnah (Frankfurt, 1876), pp. 162-163; R. Judah Leib Landesberg, Hikrei Lev (Satmar, 1909) vol. 4, p. 44; R. Hayyim Fishel Epstein, Teshuvah Shelemah, vol. 2, Yoreh Deah,no. 15.

R. Elijah ben Solomon ha-Kohen,Mizbah Eliyahu(Izmir, 1867), p. 229b, writes:

שרבי מאיר הכיר בעצמו שאם הדור היה זכאי היה ראוי הוא להיות משיח. וכשמת וראה שלא זכה הדור גילה להם הדבר ומה שגרמו עוונותיהם

Interestingly, in the days of R. Saadiah Gaon there was a Karaite scholar named Hasan ben Mashiah, who generally is referred to as simply בן משיח. Ibn Ezra mentions him in the introduction to his commentary on the Torah. In this case משיח must have been an actual name. The nineteenth-century rabbinic scholar R. Israel Moses Hazan, author of Kerakh shel Romi, would occasionally sign his name משי”ח (the letters of his name), but more often he would use המשי”ח (the ה standing for הרב). You also find him writing about himself: אמר המשי”ח

[11] Although he idealized his grandfather, R. Soloveitchik was not a blind follower. See Zorah Warhaftig, Hamishim Shanah ve-Shanah: Pirkei Zikhronot (Jerusalem, 1998) pp. 100-101, who reports that he was told by R. Soloveitchik that his grandfather made three mistakes: 1. He opposed the new aliyah to Eretz Yisrael, as he was worried that it would lead to a religious decline among the settlers. 2. He did not grasp the significance of Jewish immigration to America. 3. He thought that the religious life of Brisk would not be affected by the societal changes sweeping Europe.
[12] See also the recently published letter of the Rav to Prof. Ernst Simon in Yair Kahn and Kalman Neuman, “A Rabbinic Exchange on the Disengagement: A Case Study in R. Aharon Lichtenstein’s Approach to Hilkhot Tsibbur,” Tradition 47 (Winter 2014), pp. 161-162, 185-186, available here.
[13] The Rav has often been quoted as saying that it if it cost even one life to recapture the Kotel, it was not worth it.
[14] See R. Yehoshua Kaniel’s eulogy for R. Kook in Me-Avnei ha-Makom 11 (2000), p. 57. I wonder how many pages a day this amazing kid is doing? At age 11 he already knew the entire Mishnah by heart.

[15] See Isak Unna, Die Lemle Moses Klaus-Stiftung in Mannheim (Frankfurt, 1908), pp. 13-14.
[16] Unna, Die Lemle Moses Klaus-Stiftung in Mannheim, p. 63.
[17] Shlomo Lorincz, Bi-Mehitzatam shel Gedolei ha-Torah, vol. 2, p. 610. He also reports that R. Moshe reviewed fifty pages of Talmud a day, and that he had a siyum upon completing the Shulhan Arukh for the seven hundredth time.
[18] File 8564/4, new call no.: 000i8nt. The file can be seen here.
[19] Is this indeed the general practice? In my experience it seems that many people do not put something on the floor if there is a carpet. See also R. Aharon Leib Steinman’s Ke-Ayal Ta’arog be-Inyanei ha-Moadim, p. 423:

הרה”ג רבי דוד הילמן שלח לשאול את רבנו האם בבתי כנסת שהרצפה מעץ צריך לכרוע בהפסק על פניהם או לא, דהרי כל החסרון הוא באבן דמחזי כאבן משכית ולא בעץ. וענה רבנו שבעיר בריסק הרצפה היתה מאבן וע”כ כולם עשו כורעים עם הפסק, אבל במשך השנים יצא לו להתפלל גם בבתי כנסת מעץ ושם רוב האנשים עשו כורעים בלי הפסק מלבד כמה יחידים (מפי נכדו הרה”ג ר’ אשר שטינמן. ועי’ הליכות שלמה תפילה יט, ו [צ”ל ח] שבשטיח מחובר שהוא קבוע המנהג להחמיר, אם כי מעיקר הדין מותר

[20] Regarding ArtScroll, someone I know mentioned that he thinks it is surprising that ArtScroll does not have יתגדל ויתקדש with a tzere under the ד in accord with the Mishnah Berurah’s opinion (56:2), or at least mention that this is the opinion of the Mishnah Berurah. As he put it, in yeshivish circles, the Mishnah Berurah is king and ArtScroll comes from that world.

I don’t think it is surprising that they did not change the text (although I would have expected them to note the different vocalization in a note). ArtScroll is producing a siddur for the Jewish community as a whole, and the overwhelming majority of people pronounce the words with a patah under the ד. In fact, I am sure that there are a number of other examples where ArtScroll does not follow the Mishnah Berurah’s opinion. I found one such case: In 8:10 the Mishnah Berurah states that when putting on one’s Tallit, in the blessing להתעטף בציצית, there should be shewa under the ב in the word בציצית. Yet ArtScroll places a patah under the ב which is the standard Ashkenazic practice. In fact, other than Tehillat Hashem (Chabad), are there any other current Ashkenazic siddurim that have a shewa under the ב?
[21] For other rishonim who reject the talmudic reinterpretation of the verse, see Changing the Immutable, p. 5.

Review of Rav Zvi Hirsch Grodzinsky’s Taharas Yisroel

By Shmuel Lubin

Shmuel Lubin is a doctoral candidate in biology and creator of “The Rishonim” podcast.

ר‘ צבי הירש גראדזענסקי טהרת ישראל, הלכות נדה, לראשונה מכתב יד, ע“י מכון תפארת צבי, [נדפס ע“י מכון עלה זית], תקסח עמודים

The publication of a new sefer on Hilchos Niddah is not necessarily cause for celebration in the often-saturated world of halachic literature.[1] But when such a publication is based on an early 20th century manuscript from the American heartland, it at least merits a glance; if the author happens to also have a rather famous rabbinic last name, talmidei chachamim may take interest even without knowing anything about the sefer’s content. All this can be said about Sefer Taharas Yisrael on the laws of Niddah, written by Rav Zvi Hirsch Grodzinsky zt”l. Born c. 1857 in Lithuania, where he learned be-chavrusa with his more famous second-cousin, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinsky zt”l, he then spent most of his adult life serving as the chief rabbi of Omaha, Nebraska for almost 60 years (1891-1947). [2] As intriguing as his biography is, once one begins studying Rav Grodzinsky’s Sefer Taharas Yisrael, such details quickly fade into insignificance, washed away by a torrent of Torah brilliance. This review will therefore focus first on judging the newly published work for what it is: a book on the laws of Hilchos Niddah (Family Purity).

Photo of Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Grodzinsky from approximately the time he arrived in America. (From Rosenbaum and Wakschlag, 1994)

Probably the most succinct way to describe the style of the Sefer Taharas Yisrael is to say that it does for Hilchos Niddah what R. Avraham Bornstein’s (the “Sochatchover”) Eglei Tal does for Hilchos Shabbos: it is a book of halacha that also provides the background for the laws through detailed conceptual analysis of its sources. In the center of the page is the halacha, which is usually a direct quotation from Shulchan Aruch, Rama, or similarly standard halachic works. This main text is flanked by two sets of notes: “Mekoros,” or citations, and “Biurim,” elaborations.

Because the main body of the text is often an exact citation from a standard halachic authority such as the Shulchan Aruch or Rama, sometimes these formulations do not precisely reflect the halachic consensus as Rav Grodzinsky understands it. Despite its name, therefore, the “Mekoros” section not only provides citations for the main text, but also serves more generally as ‘footnotes’, including brief but important clarifications or qualifications of the cited halacha. Together, this allows for the Sefer Taharas Yisrael to be useful as a work of practical guidance, like so many other summary works on Hilchos Niddah available today, but at the same maintain the voice of the classic authorities such as the Shulchan Aruch.

The vast majority of the sefer’s text, however, is comprised of the Biurim, wherein Rav Grodzinsky engages in classical rabbinic interpretation of halachic texts, analyzing their language and logic, raising questions, proposing interpretations, and refining his (and his readers’) understanding of the earlier textual sources. These sources used in the Biurim focus primarily on the Gemara and Rishonim, as well as the major poskim throughout the generations both “on the page” of the Shulchan Aruch and in other classic (and sometimes not-so-classic) works of She’eilos u-Teshuvos and halacha. Despite his remote location, especially relative to the Torah centers of Europe and America, Rav Grodzinsky amassed an extraordinary library of seforim, as attested to by the roughly 200 books of She’eilos u-Teshuvos that he lists in the introductory pages of the reference work that he published during his lifetime, “Likutei Zvi.”

Part of Rav Grodzinsky’s library which was housed by Otzar ha-Poskim in Jerusalem. (From Rosenbaum and Wakschlag, 1994)

Nevertheless, in Sefer Taharas Yisrael, Rav Grodzinsky focuses more narrowly on the classical commentaries printed in now-standard editions of the Gemara, Rambam, Tur and Shulchan Aruch.[3] Of course, not all of these were always so “standard”; for example, Rav Grodzinsky makes use of the Tosafos ha-Rosh that had been “newly printed on the side of the Gemara” (p. 42), referring to the now ubiquitous Vilna Shas published by Mrs. Deborah Romm and her sons during Rav Grodzinsky’s lifetime (while he was still living in Eastern Europe).

A few other observations are worth noting about Rav Grodzinsky’s use of sources. Although he does reference the responsa literature, aside from references to the Noda BiYehudah and Chasam Sofer, the total number of those citations is probably only a few dozen (which is certainly impressive, but does not reflect the more extraordinary breadth of his reference work, Likutei Zvi). Rav Grodzinsky also quotes heavily from both the Chochmas Adam of R. Avraham Danzig, and from the Shulchan Aruch “HaRav” of R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi, whom Rav Grodzinsky invariably – and uniquely – cites as the “the Rav, the Gaon, the Chassid.” These seforim have become standard works of halacha that are frequently cited in the literature of the past century, but in several places, Rav Grodzinsky also quotes from another book of halacha that is rarely if ever cited today, the “Ikkarei ha-Dat” of R. Daniel Tirani (18th century Italy), which is noteworthy for also including what would be considered “medical” information along with the halacha (see p. 38).

Among Rav Grodzinsky’s many sources are also non-halachic texts, such as the Midrash Vayikra Rabbah or R. Eliyahu Mizrachi’s supercommentary to Rashi on the Torah. Another noteworthy reference is Rav Grodzinsky’s discussion of a comment by the “Besamim Rosh,” (p. 215) attributed to R. Asher b. Yechiel (“the Rosh”) but now widely accepted to have been forged by Saul Berlin.[4] This is especially interesting because among Rav Grodzinsky’s unpublished manuscripts is an expansive 11-volume work on the (authentic) responsa of R. Asher b. Yechiel. Given his expertise in the works of this particular medieval authority, it would be very valuable to know whether (or to what extent) he believed that positions expressed in the Besamim Rosh fit with other known statements of the Rosh. In an important responsum on the topic of annulling a marriage, published by Rav Grodzinsky at the end of his commentary to Maseches Berachos (published in 1923), he briefly mentions a “sevara meshubeshes” [distorted reasoning] quoted in the name of the Besamim Rosh, and says that the book was not available to him at the time. In Sefer Taharas Yisrael though, Rav Grodzinsky raises no objections to the book per se.[5]

Sometimes the “Biurim” are merely quotes from earlier compendiums, such as the Beis Yosef, or summaries of some of the major discussions of later commentaries such as the Chavos Daas and Sidrei Taharah (and those who have read through extensive comments of the Sidrei Taharah will acknowledge that extracting the main points from his lengthy pilpulim is itself a great service). In what may be the most difficult topic of Hilchos Niddah, Rav Grodzinsky excuses himself for deviating from his usual brevity to enumerate the various rabbinic positions and their halachic consequences for the benefit of someone struggling through the dense halachic details in question (p. 114-117).

Usually, though, Rav Grodzinsky goes far beyond mere quotations or summaries of earlier commentaries. Whether he is discussing the Gemara, the Rishonim, the Shulchan Aruch, or later commentators, Rav Grodzinsky’s novel elaborations upon these sources of the halacha are extraordinary in their clarity, profundity, and creativity. Most of these biurim are brief, consisting of a single question-and-answer, an additional proof to the position cited in the main text, or the like, but written in a lucid style that stands in stark contrast to other ‘short’ halachic commentaries such as the Shach and Taz.

The vast majority of Rav Grodzinsky’s novel contributions are in explicating a single, very precise detail of a halachic discussion. He does not engage in the type of high-level conceptual categorization (inventing ‘lomdishe chakiras’) that is common in contemporary yeshiva study.[6] Instead, his approach involves a close examination of the original sources, on occasion proposing alternative readings or explanations to resolve questions or demonstrate proofs to the halacha in the Gemara, Rishonim and early Acharonim.

Rav Grodzinsky’s creativity is especially evident in defending positions of Rishonim (and sometimes Acharonim) from the challenges of later commentators. As he writes (p. 257 and 343), “it is a mitzvah to resolve the words of the Beis Yosef from whose waters we drink constantly.” This tendency is not at all limited to R. Yosef Caro who, as the author of the Beis Yosef and Shulchan Aruch, is one of the main pillars of halachic decision-making. Rav Grodzinsky writes similarly regarding the authors of Knesses Yechezkel (R. Yechezkel Katzenellenbogen, p. 68-69), the Perisha (R. Yehoshua Falk Katz, p. 260), the Panim Meiros (R. Meir Poznan/Eisenstadt, p. 318), and many others. In fact, Rav Grodzinsky appears to be especially motivated to defend opinions that are rejected as erroneous by the majority of other commentators, saving them from potential dishonor.

As Eliezer Brodt discussed in his review of Sefer Beis ha-Yayin, Rav Grodzinsky is at times willing to attribute difficult passages to printers’ errors, but is wary of making such suggestions too frequently.[7] However, he sometimes solves difficult positions of Rishonim or explains why groups of Rishonim will disagree with each other by noting that they likely had different versions of the Gemara’s text.[8] In a similar vein, Rav Grodzinsky is adept at demonstrating how a dispute among Rishonim or Acharonim is dependent upon a dispute found in the Gemara (or at least earlier sources; e.g. on p. 185). He is particularly sensitive to rabbinic authors of differing opinions and has a keen eye towards finding a “le-shitaso,” explaining how deciding one particular halacha is dependent upon understanding a different halacha. He applies this method to many Amoraim, Rishonim, and Acharonim. These types of explanations demonstrate how Rav Grodzinsky was deeply attuned not just to nuances of the Talmudic sources, but also to the specific personalities behind each opinion voiced by the various commentators and authorities. Relatedly, Rav Grodzinsky will sometimes remark upon the general tendency or style of a Rishon, noting, for instance, “it is surprising to me that the Rosh did not mention that the position of the Tosafists diverges [from his own view] and dispute their words, as is his custom in every place” (p. 211).

Within the context of halachic discussion, Rav Grodzinsky is not averse to suggesting fresh and often creative interpretations of the Gemara that appear to be at odds with the major commentaries. Usually, his reinterpretations of primary sources are in response to some problem raised by the commentators, but this is not always the case. To take one relatively simple example, the Gemara (Niddah 9b) states:

וכמה עונה אמר ריש לקיש משום רבי יהודה נשיאה עונה בינונית שלשים יום ורבא אמר רב חסדא עשרים יום ולא פליגי מר קחשיב ימי טומאה וימי טהרה ומר לא חשיב ימי טומאה.

And how long is a typical cycle? Reish Lakish says in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Nesia: the average cycle is thirty days. And Rava says that Rav Ḥisda says: It is twenty days. [The Gemara clarifies:] And they do not disagree. One counts [i.e., includes] days of impurity and days of purity. And the other does not count the days of impurity [i.e., the seven days of niddah plus the three days of possible ziva sightings]

The Gemara is fairly explicit in saying that the two rabbis cited as opining upon the average woman’s cycle do not disagree with each other. Yet, Rav Grodzinsky (p. 130) believes that the Gemara would not have expressed their opinions in different ways if their positions were truly identical, and so he suggests that they do, in fact, disagree, but the Gemara simply means that they both hold that the average cycle is approximately 30 days, not that their opinions vary so widely as to differ by ten whole days.

Notwithstanding his frequently bold and creative suggestions, Rav Grodzinsky is very hesitant to utilize those innovations in practice. Instead, he writes, “I will permit the audacity of boldly writing what has come into my net [arhiv be-nafshi oz lichtov mah she-alah be-metzudasi], but I am writing only for the purposes of study and not le-halacha, considering only as a student considers before his master” (p. 20), or “for even if this [novel explanation] answers many questions, it is against many Rishonim and Acharonim who are so much greater than I” (p. 389). When it comes to the practical implementation of halacha, Rav Grodzinsky’s humility prevents him from issuing a pesak that is against what he views as the mainstream position of the earlier poskim.[9] His determination of this “mainstream” is complex; Rav Grodzinsky does not appear to be working within a rule-based system such that, for example, if there is a dispute between the Shach and Taz he would always decide in favor of the Shach.[10] Instead, Rav Grodzinsky takes all the commentaries into consideration and appears to decide according to his considered majority, but many times both opinions will appear in the main body of the halacha in the center of the page, as yesh omrim [some say] one way or the other.

Even without consciously pushing the boundaries of pesak halacha, however, sometimes Rav Grodzinsky’s assessment of the halachic consensus is nevertheless important where later or contemporary rabbinic authorities continue to dispute certain halachos. Hilchos Niddah may be a “well-trodden path” (much more so than, for example, the laws of yayin nesech, the subject of Rav Grodzinsky’s book published in 2011), but there are numerous issues where contemporary poskim differ, and Rav Grodzinsky can thus serve as an important source for deciding halacha. To take just one example out of many, Rav Grodzinsky believes that there is no reason to follow the stricter opinion of the Or Zaru’a in considering a veses [expected period] to last for 24 (instead of 12) hours.[11]

Most of Rav Grodzinsky’s responsa remain unpublished, but from the few that are available it is clear that he did not shy away from tackling even the most complex of modern issues. In an undated manuscript that was probably written around 1941, for example, Rav Grodzinsky wrote what may be the first full-length discussion of the halachic implications of artificial insemination.[12] Some of Rav Grodzinsky’s previously published works also include fascinating asides or observations pertaining to his role and experiences as a rabbi in early twentieth century America.[13] However, there is almost no topic in Sefer Taharas Yisrael that was not discussed in the older, classical works of halacha. As far as I could tell, there is no hint to the fact that the sefer was written in 20th century Nebraska instead of 18th century Prague, even though there are many instances where one would think that the different American context might have an impact upon halacha. Perhaps this is because Sefer Taharas Yisrael was written earlier in Rav Grodzinsky’s lifetime, or maybe he simply wanted to maintain its classical style without discussing new questions in this context.

If Sefer Taharas Yisrael were published in pre-war Eastern Europe, it would have undoubtedly been popular among rabbinic students who recognized Rav Grodzinsky as a fantastic talmid chacham.[14] In (nearly) all of his writings, Rav Grodzinsky’s intended audience was certainly his rabbinic colleagues in Europe and Israel (then British Palestine), not his own congregants in the city of Omaha, Nebraska. In terms of his vast Torah knowledge, Rav Grodzinsky must have been worlds away from his neighbors and community. It is hard to imagine what he knew or thought about the city of Omaha when he was 33 years old, living in Vilna, when he accepted the invitation to become its rabbi in 1891. By the time Rav Grodzinsky arrived, there were (at least) two main Orthodox synagogues – a “Litvishe Shul” (Congregation B’nai Israel, founded 1883) and a “Russishe Shul” (Chevra B’nai Israel Adas Russia, founded 1884), with a third Hungarian Shul dedicated a few years after. As Omaha’s Orthodox rabbi, Rav Grodzinsky gave weekly sermons, led daily Mishnah studies, counseled congregants, answered halachic questions, and supervised kosher slaughter, but it seems inevitable that a great chasm would have existed between him and his community. He refused to speak English, even to his children, and seems to have avoided participating in the committees and social obligations that were becoming typical of American rabbis (although he did participate in the founding of Agudas ha-Rabbanim in 1902).

The majority of even Rav Grodzinsky’s most devoted congregants who may have purchased their rabbi’s books as a mark of respect could probably hardly read them, and his neighbors surely had little appreciation of the talmudic genius living among them. The salary provided by the shuls of Omaha, initially a modest honorarium of $25 per month from each synagogue, was hardly enough to make ends meet. When the two larger Omaha shuls hired Rabbi Yechiel Michel Charlop in 1923 (who stayed for two years before moving to the Bronx), he was offered an annual salary of $3,500. Meanwhile, Rav Grodzinsky at the time earned about $200-400 and was forced to supplement his income by providing various other functions such as selling Matzah for Passover and traveling annually to Sacramento, California to certify kosher wines. A few decades after his death, nobody in the community even remembered where he was buried.[15]

Instead, Rav Grodzinsky poured unimaginably superhuman efforts into producing scholarly Torah writings. His first book, “Mikveh Yisrael,” a commentary on the laws of ritual baths, appeared in 1898 with the approbation of his rebbe R. Yitzchak Elchonon Spektor zt”l. Starting in 1896, he contributed numerous articles to respected Torah journals, engaging in scholarly debates on a wide range of halachic issues with the rabbis of Europe, Israel, and elsewhere in America. The vast majority of Rav Grodzinsky’s prolific output, however, remained in manuscript form at the time of his death (at about 90) in 1947. Shortly afterwards, his personal library and unpublished writings were shipped off to the Otzar ha-Poskim institute in Jerusalem, as per his instructions prior to his passing.

A newspaper article from 1945 reported that Rav Grodzinsky (then at the age of about 87) was “planning the publication of additional works in the field of Rabbinics,”[16] but the word “planning” is a woefully inadequate description of the amount of effort and care that Rav Grodzinsky put into preparing his writings for publication. Many seforim aficionados will be aware of R. Akiva Eiger’s directions to his sons that they should publish his responsa using large clear lettering on the finest paper available. Rabbi Zvi Hirsch Grodzinsky went quite a bit further, taking an unusual, perhaps even unique step towards ensuring that his halachic works would be published as beautifully as he imagined them to be: with his clear handwriting, he would copy over his ready-to-publish manuscript into bound notebooks in the precise page layout that he intended for it to be printed, with the main halacha in the center flanked by citations on one side and elaborations on the other.

Despite the incredible lengths Rav Grodzinsky went to in preparing his manuscripts, they languished in their boxes (and were even tied up in their original ropes) for many decades before any of these previously unpublished works were actually printed. The saga of their publication is the subject of a 2015 Mishpacha magazine article[17] with additional updates included in the Introduction sections of more recent publications. In 2011, R. Shalom Jacob zt”l published Rav Grodzinsky’s work on Yayin Nesech, and a few years later published a collection of his writings on the holidays under the title Mo’adei Zvi vol. 1 (2016). This newly published work, Sefer Taharas Yisrael on Hilchos Niddah, the third in the series of Rav Grodzinsky’s works published from manuscripts, marks a bittersweet occasion, coinciding with the first yahrzeit of R. Shalom Jacob, whose dedicated efforts in publishing Rav Grodzinsky’s seforim have been continued by Rabbi Myron Wakschlag through Machon Tiferes Zvi, a nonprofit organization dedicated to publishing Rav Grodzinsky’s works. This new volume includes tributes to R. Shalom Jacob by Rabbi Yisroel Dovid Schlesinger of Monsey, by R. Shalom’s father, and by R. Shalom’s friend and partner-in-publication, Rabbi Wakschlag.

The publishers have lived up to Rav Grodzinsky’s high expectations admirably; Sefer Taharas Yisrael is handsomely bound, typeset in large lettering, and with the sections clearly laid out and formatted according to the author’s handwritten notebooks (even if maintaining the exact pagination would have been impractical, if not impossible). As expected for a work of this size and complexity, it is not entirely without typographical errors, although these rarely impede understanding.[18]

Particularly helpful is the Source Index, which contributes to making Sefer Taharas Yisrael more user-friendly for someone studying either Maseches Niddah or Shulchan Aruch (although Rav Grodzinsky’s own sefer does mostly follow the organization of the Tur). Without this index, the sefer would be much more difficult to be studied by someone following a classic yeshiva or kollel curriculum. However, it should be noted that the index, while useful, is not entirely comprehensive, especially for sources beyond the Gemara and Shulchan Aruch commentaries. For instance, there is no reference to “Ra’ah” (R. Ahron ha-Levi of Lunel) or his work, Bedek ha-Bayis despite being quoted several times.[19] However, as it currently stands the index is already 49 pages long(!), and these minor deficiencies do not substantially detract from its overall utility (and certainly do not impinge upon the quality of the sefer as a whole).

There is no question in my mind that this work will be an invaluable resource for anyone engaged in serious study of Hilchos Niddah, as Rav Grodzinsky’s scholarship deserves a place on the shelf of every kollel beis medrash. Hopefully, this publication will serve as a catalyst for the financing of more publications from Rav Grodzinsky’s writings; a list of manuscripts being considered for future publication and other information about this project can be found on the publisher’s website. Aside from the benefit that this serves “le-hagdil Torah u-le-ha’adirah,” publication of his responsa and sermons in particular will likely provide fascinating insights into the rabbinic engagement with new technologies and social realities of early 20th century America.

Moreover, the quality and depth of Sefer Taharas Yisrael should further solidify Rav Grodzinsky’s place among the gedolim of his generation, and the sefer is a fitting tribute to this giant who was largely under-appreciated by his own congregants of Omaha, Nebraska. In the commentary to Maseches Berachos that Rav Grodzinsky published in his lifetime, he explained the rabbinic ‘blessing’ that “you should see your world in your life, your end in the World to Come, and your hope will be for generations” (Berachos 17a):

“That you should be recognized and desired in people’s eyes in this world… that is “your end in the World to Come,” and “your hope,” meaning, your hope that your lips will speak from the grave through others speaking your sayings in this world, as the Gemara says in Yevamos (97a), “will be for generations,” meaning, for many generations after you, people will continue to cite your teachings in this world. (Milei de-Berachos p. 187)

May this blessing be applied posthumously to Rav Grodzinsky as fulfilled through the further study and publication of his works.

For sample pages of this work Email Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

 R. Moshe Zuriel, the Aderet, Sonya Diskin, and ChatGPT

Marc B. Shapiro

1. It is hard to believe that more than a year and a half has passed since R. Moshe Zuriel was taken from us. At the time of his passing, I intended to write a lengthy appreciation of him, but I was never able to get around to it. Still, I feel compelled to say something about R. Zuriel, if only to express my hakarat ha-tov for all that I learned from him. Although we never met, we exchanged numerous emails. It reached the point where, whenever I had a question about a passage in R. Kook, I would turn to him. I was also happy to arrange for three of his posts to appear on the Seforim Blog—see here.

Although R. Zuriel was my senior both in age and certainly in wisdom, he honored me by treating me like an old friend. Here is just one sample from an email he sent to me.

Your reference to Rabbi Hirsch’s praises for Schiller’s writings is a Godsend for me. I am elated at his words.

I myself was born in Frankfort am-Main, and consider myself an avid follower of his teachings, which strike a chord in my heart. The expressions in this Memorial Speech are something fabulous. Thank you again for bringing this to my attention. Rav Kook too speaks many a time about Universal Values, which are evident here and there in the Gentile Communities. We must have a link to our fellow humans.

Before we started communicating by email, we sent old fashioned letters. Here is one letter from December 2003. R. Zuriel followed Rav Kook’s approach—discussed by me in The Old Will be Renewed, the New Will be Sanctified—that the Sanhedrin will be able to actualize new moral and religious insights that have become apparent. These moral and religious insights should be viewed as Torah truths that were revealed gradually over time, meaning that we have advanced from the morality at the time of the giving of the Torah. The Sanhedrin will have the final say as to when we are dealing with authentic Torah values vs. non-Jewish values that people are trying to insert into Jewish life.

Here are two other letters from R. Zuriel where you can see his strong religious spirit.

Here is the final part of another letter he wrote me.

I first heard of R. Zuriel when I was a student at Beit Midrash le-Torah (BMT) in 1984–1985. I happened to find his sefer, Beit Yehezkel: Hilkhot Deot, on the shelf. I knew nothing about the author but found the book interesting and began to go through it. I never told R. Zuriel that this was the first sefer I ever went through. In school, we studied Chumash and Gemara, but I had never before picked up an independent sefer and tried to work through it on my own.

One day, while I was learning the sefer, someone noticed and mentioned that there was something controversial in it—namely, that R. Zuriel praises kippot serugot. Even then, I was interested in controversial texts, and I carefully combed through the book, unsuccessfully trying to find the page where he offered this praise. I later heard this story on other occasions as well, so I assumed that the volume I had been using had been censored and that the provocative passage had been removed. That was undoubtedly my first experience with what I thought was a censored text. Maybe that moment planted the seeds that would only come to fruition decades later in Changing the Immutable.

It was only many years later that I learned R. Zuriel had published two books under the title Beit Yehezkel, and lo and behold, I eventually found the passage about kippot serugot on p. 194 of the first edition.

Incidentally, I think many will be surprised to learn that R. Zvi Yehudah Kook—whose yeshiva and followers became such an important force in the kippah serugah world—actually preferred a black kippah over a kippah serugah, not just for himself but for everyone. It is true that he did not make a big deal about it, but we need to be honest about his opinion. Even when presented with two students, one wearing a small black kippah and the other a large kippah serugah, he expressed his preference for the black kippah.[1]

In fact, R. Zvi Yehudah would have even preferred that students at Merkaz ha-Rav wear a hat and jacket, though he never made an issue of it. He did, however, tell at least some of his students who became rabbis that they should wear rabbinic garb—which today generally means a black suit and hat. He wasn’t entirely consistent in this regard, and I suppose that explains the varied styles of dress among his rabbinic students: some look no different than haredi rabbis, others wear a kippah serugah along with a hat, and still others wear a kippah serugah without a hat.[2]

For those who want to learn more about R. Zuriel, his website can be found here. It is truly remarkable to see the vast array of books he published, covering so many different areas of Torah.[3] You will also find there the three volumes of writings by Naftali Hirz Wessely, including material from manuscript, which R. Zuriel published. Interestingly, his name does not appear in these volumes as the one who prepared them for publication. Instead, he used pseudonyms—likely to avoid becoming embroiled in controversy. Yet it is worth noting that, in the years before his death, he began writing about Wessely under his own name and openly defended his decision to publish Wessely’s works. See here.

Missing from his website is his first edition of Wessely’s Sefer ha-Midot, which was published in 2002. The site only includes the later edition, which incorporates previously unpublished material. Yet the first edition is extremely valuable and deserves to be uploaded as well. This is because it contains a lengthy introduction that establishes the religious acceptability of Wessely, citing numerous great rabbis who referenced him positively. (For examples of censorship involving Wessely in the reprinted works of R. Moses Schick and R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, see my post here.) This introduction is significantly different from the one that appears in the second edition. While most of it is also found in the introduction to R. Zuriel’s edition of Wessely’s Yein Levanon (written under the pseudonym Yaakov Segal), for some reason, the version of Yein ha-Levanon on the website omits this entire introduction. Also missing is R. Hayyim Druckman’s haskamah and a letter from Wessely that originally appeared in the first publication of Yein Levanon (Berlin, 1775).

What is particularly noteworthy is that the first edition of Sefer ha-Midot includes a haskamah from R. Zuriel himself, in which he seeks to establish the legitimacy of Wessely. I don’t know—and unfortunately never asked R. Zuriel—why, if he was willing to write a haskamah for Wessely’s book, he wasn’t also willing to identify himself as the editor. The haskamah is formally addressed to “Rabbi Hayyim Lifshitz,” the supposed editor of the book—but Lifshitz is a fictional figure, and the lengthy introduction attributed to him was, in fact, written by R. Zuriel.

When it comes to an author providing a haskamah to his own work published anonymously or under a pseudonym, we do have precedent. R. EliyahuDavid Rabinowitz-Teomim (the Aderet) did this with the only two, of his over 120 works, that were published in his lifetime. In 1889 he published Zekher la-Mikdash (on Hakhel). Here is the title page from the first printing (later printings include the Aderet’s name). In his autobiography, the Aderet mentions writing the book.[4]

On the title page, instead of an author’s name, it states: חובר מאת פלא“י. This is clearly intended to evoke Judges 13:18, where the angel says to Manoah, “Wherefore askest thou after my name, seeing it is hidden (פלאי)?” What’s puzzling is that the title page spells it as פלא“י—with an apostrophe between the last two letters—rather than the more straightforward פלאי. It has been suggested that the final three letters allude to the author’s name, “Elijah” (אלי), and that the פ stands for Pinhas, since Pinhas is traditionally identified with Elijah.[5] But to me, this interpretation feels far-fetched.

Here is the haskamah which is followed by the Aderet’s many notes to the book, as if he is commenting on someone else’s sefer.

In 1893 the Aderet anonymously published Aharit ha-Shanim (on the law of Vidui Ma’aser). Here is the title page of the first printing (subsequent printings include the Aderet’s name).

This book is also mentioned in the Aderet’s autobiography.[6] Unlike in Zekher la-Mikdash, in Aharit ha-Shanim there is a hint in the Aderet’s introduction to his authorship (emphasis added):

ע“כ העלמתי שמי והליטותי פני באדרתי לבל ישאו פני

Furthermore, anyone who looks up the biblical verse which is the origin of the expression והליטותי פני באדרתי will find that it is in 1 Kings 19:13 and describes Elijah wrapping his face in his mantle. The Aderet’s first name is Elijah, so this is obviously also an allusion to the author’s identity.

Here is the Aderet’s haskamah to this book. As with Zekher la-Mikdash, the haskamah is followed by many pages of notes to the book, under the heading Devar Eliyahu.

I assume the Aderet must have felt somewhat awkward referring to himself as ha-ma’or ha-gadol (המאוה“ג), yet everyone understands that such honorifics are expected in haskamot. In fact, had he not used this kind of language, he might well have been accused of failing to show proper respect for the author—since people did not know that he himself was the author.

In 2005, Aharit ha-Shanim was reprinted by Ahavat Shalom, and they were fortunate to have access to the Aderet’s own copy, which contains many additional marginal notes. These were included in the new edition.

I found another case where the author wrote a haskamah to his own book, but as you can see, the haskamah is not a typical haskamah.

Here is the title page of R. Yaakov Goldman’s Peret ve-Olelot (Jerusalem, 1930).

Here is the haskamah.

Speaking of the Aderet and haskamot, here is a chance to deal with a report that has assumed legendary status in the Merkaz ha-Rav world. R. Zvi Yehudah Kook claimed that the lengthy haskamah of the Aderet for the Chafetz Chaim’s Likutei Halakhot was actually written by R. Kook.

Here is the haskamah:

The story told by R. Zvi Yehudah and recorded by R. Moshe Zvi Neriah in Sihot ha-Re’iyah, pp. 123-124, is as follows: R. Kook visited his former father-in-law, the Aderet, while the Aderet was serving as the rav of the city of Mir. During this visit, a letter arrived from the Chafetz Chaim requesting a haskamah for his new book, Likutei Halakhot. He wished to have the haskamah sent as soon as possible, even on the very day his letter arrived, and included some portions of the book. The Aderet was very impressed and showed R. Kook what the Chafetz Chaim had sent. Due to his busy schedule, the Aderet was unable to write the haskamah that day, so he asked R. Kook to write it. R. Kook wrote the impressive haskamah that was later printed.

After R. Kook wrote the haskamah, the Aderet read it over and was ready to sign it. However, he stated that he could not take credit for a Torah explanation suggested by R. Kook, so he altered the text of the haskamah, attributing the explanation to R. Kook, the rav of Bausk. This haskamah is the very first one in Haskamot ha-Re’iyah (Jerusalem, 2017).

It is a very nice story, but is it true? Let me present a source that seems to contradict what R. Zvi Yehudah reported. In the Aderet’s autobiography, Seder Eliyahu, p. 100, the Aderet recounts how, due to a dispute in his city, the Chafetz Chaim came there to try to make peace. The Aderet then writes that a couple of weeks later he wrote the haskamah for Likutei Halakhot.

אז נתתי הסכמתי על ס‘ לקוטי הלכות להגה“צ בעל ח“ח שליט“א

Presumably, it was when the Chafetz Chaim visited the city that he gave the Aderet his work. If R. Kook had written the haskamah, wouldn’t the Aderet have mentioned it in his memoir? Furthermore, in R. Kook’s Eder ha-Yekar, p. 47, he says the following about his father-in-law:

כל הספרים הרבים שנתן עליהם הסכמתו, עבר עליהם מראשית עד אחרית וברוב העיר עליהם הערות

According to R. Kook, the Aderet would not give a haskamah unless he had read the entire book. However, the story as told by R. Zvi Yehudah suggests that the Aderet gave a haskamah without having gone through the book.

Based on the two points I have mentioned, I think it is legitimate to raise questions about the story told by R. Zvi Yehudah. It would make more sense to assume that the Aderet wrote the haskamah while R. Kook was in Mir and that the Aderet discussed the haskamah with R. Kook (which would explain the mention of R. Kook in the haskamah). But it is hard to reconcile R. Zvi Yehudah’s story with the Aderet’s own testimony in his memoir or with R. Kook’s description of how the Aderet would study a book before giving his haskamah.

A completely different version of the story involving the Aderet, R. Kook, and the haskamah was told by R. Kook’s nephew, R. Refael Kook. In his version, the haskamah was written by R. Kook for another book by the Chafetz Chaim, Nidhei Yisrael. Here is the story as found in Simcha Raz’s An Angel Among Men.[7]

When the Chafetz Chayim zt”l finished writing Nidchei Yisrael, he came to the Aderet (R. Eliyahu David Rabinowitz-Te’omim) to receive a letter of approbation for the book.

The Aderet kept the book’s proof sheets in order to look through them before writing his approbation. Unfortunately, however, he came down with pneumonia and was quite ill for several weeks. During that time, the Chafetz Chaim came back to receive the approbation he so anxiously waited for. The Aderet’s doctor, however, forbade him to exert himself in any way; so he was unable to write the letter.

The Chafetz Chayim was very disappointed, having made the trip just for the approbation. Don’t worry,” said the Aderet. “I just married off my daughter to R. Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, who is greater than me in many areas. He will write the letter, and I will sign it.”

And so it was: The Rav wrote an approbation for Nidchei Yisrael and the Aderet signed it, thus forging a strong bond of friendship between the Chafetz Chayim and Rav Kook.

In this version, the Aderet says that R. Kook had just married his daughter. This is obviously incorrect as the Aderet’s haskamah to Nidhei Yisrael is dated 1894. Yet R. Kook married his daughter in 1886 and she passed away in 1889. In 1894 R. Kook was married to the niece of the Aderet, the daughter of his twin brother, R. Zvi Yehudah Rabinowitz-Teomim.

Here is the haskamah to Nidhei Yisrael.

In the Torah journal Me-Avnei ha-Makom 15 (2003), pp. 15-17, a section from the Aderet’s still unpublished 1878 work Oznei David appears. The Aderet notes that the Chafetz Chaim spent Shabbat with him and records some of their Torah conversations. One of the points he mentions is that the Chafetz Chaim asked him how one could eat at various Jewish inns, which were places where Jews would stay while traveling. The issue for the Chafetz Chaim wasn’t kashrut. In those days, people trusted other religious Jews, and the notion that an outside hashgachah was required in such circumstances had not yet been introduced.

What concerned the Chafetz Chaim was that most of the owners of these inns did not tovel their utensils. How then could people eat there? The Aderet explained—and he sees this as a novel view—that it is only forbidden for the owner to use utensils that have not been toveled. Yet there is no problem for others to make use of these utensils. What is of particular historical interest here is that we see that laxity regarding the toveling of utensils is not a recent phenomenon, but was even seen among religious Jews in nineteenth-century Lithuania.

Regarding the Chafetz Chaim and the Aderet, the tradition is that when the Chafetz Chaim writes, והעירני א‘ מחכמי הזמן, in his discussion about Birkat Kohanim in the Diaspora[8], the unnamed scholar he refers to the Aderet.[9] With one exception, the Chafetz Chaim never mentions contemporary scholars by name in the Mishnah Berurah. In Orah Hayyim 585, in Beur Halakhah s.v ve-tov, he refers to R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk. The story here is that they had a dispute at a rabbinic conference and the Chafetz Chaim thought that his language was perhaps too sharp.[10] As an apology of sorts, he broke with his convention and mentioned R. Meir Simhah by name.

It is widely reported how the Chafetz Chaim admired Rav Kook and refused to allow anyone to speak negatively about him.[11] Among the various sources cited in all the discussions I have seen, no one has referred to R. Yosef Zussman, Mi-Behirei Tzadikaya, pp. 168, 176, that when R. Zvi Yehudah Kook was together with the Chafetz Chaim he was afraid to mention who his father was, out of fear that the Chafetz Chaim would express some criticism of Rav Kook. In the end, his fear was unfounded, and the Chafetz Chaim, upon finding out who he was, told R. Zvi Yehudah that R. Kook was a good friend of his.[12] This anecdote was included in two separate letters from R. Zussman to R. Moshe Zvi Neriah. While R. Neriah used other information from these letters in his own writings, he did not include the detail of R. Zvi Yehudah being worried that the Chafetz Chaim would criticize his father.

I know that it is difficult for opponents of R. Kook to deal with the fact that the Chafetz Chaim had such positive feelings for him. I wonder if they would adopt the approach of the Brisker Rav, R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik. When asked why the Chafetz Chaim showed respect for a certain Zionist rabbi (not R. Kook), the Brisker Rav replied with the following critical comment: “This is what happens when you don’t listen to lashon hara!”[13] In other words, sometimes it is important to be aware of negative reports about certain individuals so you know how to properly relate to them.[14]

2. I recently played around with ChatGPT and found some incredible things. First, its translation ability is at a very high level. I put in some sentences from nineteenth-century Haskalah literature and the translations that came back are excellent. There are times that ChatGPT gets it wrong, and you always need to carefully review its translations. Yet it seems that we have entered a new era when it comes to translations. Going forward, should translators just insert Hebrew texts into ChatGPT and then check for accuracy and edit the translation? Perhaps this is already being done, which would be a major development.

I also became aware that you can put an article, even a PDF, into ChatGPT and it will give you a summary. Look what happened when I put Haym Soloveitchik’s “Rupture and Reconstruction” in and asked for a summary.

Summary of “Rupture and Reconstruction” by Haym Soloveitchik

Thesis & Central Argument:

Soloveitchik examines the transformation of Orthodox Jewish life in the modern era, particularly the shift from a mimetic (lived, experiential) tradition to a text-based halakhic culture. This shift, he argues, resulted from the sociocultural disruptions caused by the Holocaust and modernization.

I. The Loss of Mimetic Tradition

Traditionally, Jewish practice was absorbed through daily life rather than studied in texts. Children learned religious conduct by watching their parents and community rather than through legalistic study. However, this mimetic tradition began to break down due to several historical forces:

Modernity and Migration:

Jews who emigrated from Eastern Europe to America and Israel found themselves in new environments where religious life was no longer reinforced by communal structures.

In America, the pressures of assimilation and middle-class life further eroded informal religious transmission.

The Holocaust’s Impact:

The Holocaust annihilated the communities and individuals who had embodied and passed down the mimetic tradition.

The post-Holocaust Orthodox world was largely composed of religious survivors and their children, who lacked an organic religious upbringing.

As a result, Jews turned increasingly to written texts to reconstruct religious life, rather than continuing a naturally transmitted tradition.

II. The Rise of Text-Based Religious Life

With the breakdown of mimetic tradition, Orthodox Jews sought religious guidance in texts rather than communal precedent. Several key shifts occurred:

Stringency (Chumra) and “Maximum Position Compliance”:

Halakhic observance became more rigid, as Orthodox Jews increasingly sought the “most correct” way to perform rituals based on written sources rather than communal norms.

Practices that had previously been instinctual or lenient were now analyzed and subject to stricter interpretations.

Proliferation of Halakhic Literature:

The 20th century saw an explosion of halakhic texts, guiding every aspect of Jewish observance in meticulous detail.

Religious practice became more standardized and universalized across communities, rather than based on local custom.

The “Ritualization” of Daily Life:

Previously intuitive religious behaviors, like eating matzah at the Passover seder, were now measured and standardized (e.g., precise “shiurim” for halakhic measurements).

This shift emphasized precision and rule-following over natural, community-based observance.

III. Broader Sociological Implications

Soloveitchik argues that this shift reflects a broader pattern in Jewish history:

A Response to Cultural Erosion:

The disappearance of traditional Jewish life and the rise of middle-class acculturation created a need for stricter religious boundaries.

As Jewish life became more indistinguishable from non-Jewish life, Orthodoxy sought to reinforce distinctiveness through increased textual rigor.

The Influence of the Holocaust on Jewish Memory:

The Holocaust left Orthodox Jews without direct cultural transmission from past generations.

In response, they “reconstructed” an idealized version of pre-Holocaust Jewish life, one that was more rigidly text-based and uniform than the reality of Eastern European Judaism.

The Decline of Jewish Asceticism:

Historically, Jewish tradition included a strong ascetic streak, which emphasized self-denial and wariness of physical pleasures.

However, as Orthodox Jews became more integrated into middle-class life, this asceticism waned, replaced by an emphasis on ritual precision rather than self-denial.

Conclusion:

Soloveitchik describes a fundamental transformation in contemporary Orthodox Judaism: the replacement of an organic, mimetic tradition with a text-driven, rule-oriented religious culture. This shift has led to increased religious stringency, a focus on halakhic literature, and a reconstruction of Jewish memory that aligns with contemporary Orthodox practice rather than historical reality.

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[1] R. Zvi Yehudah Kook, Piskei Rabbenu, ed. Aviner, Orah Hayyim, p. 31. R. Shlomo Aviner recently published a book titled Pesikah ke-Halakhah. It consists of “strange pesakim” by unnamed rabbis, and R. Aviner’s response. On p. 169 the “strange pesak” he records is that someone who goes to movies should do so in another city, not where he lives, and replace his black kippah with a kippah serugah. This “pesak” is obviously based on Moed Katan 17a: “If a person sees that his evil inclination is gaining control over him, then he should go to a place where he is not known. He should wear black, wrap his head in black, and do as his heart desires [in private] and not desecrate the name of Heaven in public.”

There are those, such as R. Chaim Kanievsky, who have ruled that it is preferable to pray by oneself with a jacket and hat, than pray with a minyan without these items. (E.g., if you are in a situation where if you run home to get your jacket and hat you won’t be able to pray with a minyan.) See R. Yair Yanai, Nekiut ve-Kavod bi-Tefillah, p. 208. Yet see ibid., p. 98, that R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv ruled that prayer with a minyan is more important than wearing a jacket and hat. See similarly R. Meir Mazuz, Makor Ne’eman, vol. 3, no. 151 and R. Yitzhak Ratzaby, Olat Yitzhak, vol. 3, Orah Hayyim, no. 36. See also here at minute 18 where R. Reuven Feinstein strongly rejects the idea that it is better to pray by oneself with a hat than pray with a minyan without a hat. The entire video is noteworthy. Following the exchange about praying with a hat, R. Reuven is asked at what age should a boy be taught to wear his tzitzit out. He responds, “at no age”, and elaborates on why there is no reason to wear tzitzit out. See also at 34:55 where the questioner wants to know what to do about students who are brought up with an ideology that leads them to want to join the IDF. R. Reuven replies that if they want to join that is fine, and the army will probably turn them into a mensch.
[2] See R. Zvi Yehudah Kook, Piskei Rabbenu, ed. Aviner, Orah Hayyim, pp. 31-32.
[3] I remember how surprised I was when R. Zuriel published his Masoret Seyag la-Torah. My surprise was due to how R. Zuriel chose to deny that Jacob ben Hayyim Ibn Adonijah, the masoretic scholar and editor of the first Mikraot Gedolot, later apostatized. See my Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 93 n. 14, where I write that it is remarkable that a book could be published in modern times referring to Jacob ben Hayyim as one of the great scholars of Israel. For R. Mordechai Breuer’s harsh review of the R. Zuriel’s book, see Megadim 20 (Tamuz 5753), pp. 91-96, available here.
[4] Seder Eliyahu (Jerusalem, 1983), p. 82. On p. 106 he mentions it among the books he wrote. Moshe Reines on his own figured out that the Aderet was the author. See his Mivhar Ketavim, ed. Eliezer Brodt (Ramat Beit Shemesh, 2018), pp. 31, 605. I thank R. Eliezer Brodt for calling this to my attention. He also pointed out that R. Yisrael Dandrovitz discusses the Aderet’s haskamot in his book Hayu Devarim Me-Olam, vol. 2, ch. 22. The chapter is titled: מחברי ספרים שהסתתרו כמסכימים
[5] Akivah ben Ezra, Minhagei Hagim (Tel Aviv, 1963), p. 314 n. 7, cited in R. Yehudah Zoldan, Malkhut Yehudah ve-Yisrael, p. 451 n. 17. I write “Akivah” because the author spelled his name עקיבה. The standard way of spelling the name is עקיבא, yet Maimonides always spelled it עקיבה.
[6] Seder Eliyahu, pp. 102, 106 (including it among the books he wrote).
[7] Trans. Moshe D. Lichtman (Jerusalem, 2003), pp. 368-369.
[8] Mishnah Berurah, Sha’ar ha-Tziyun, Orah Hayyim 128 (following no. 136).
[9] See e.g., here.
[10] One version of the story is found in R. Elazar Shakh, Shimushah shel Torah, p. 159. In a future post I will discuss this incident.
[11] See e.g., here. Here is a letter from the Chafetz Chaim’s son-in-law, R. Aaron Cohen, which appears in Iggerot la-Re’iyah, pp. 565-566.

[12] More than thirty years ago I spent Shabbat at the home of the late R. Zev Neuman, who was a very close student of R. Zvi Yehudah and involved in the publication of writings of R. Kook and R. Zvi Yehudah. (See here for various articles about Neuman.) At one of the Shabbat meals, Neuman took out a manuscript of one of R. Zvi Yehudah’s talks and read it to us. R. Zvi Yehudah described how he stayed at the Chafetz Chaim’s home and the Chafetz Chaim personally set up the bed for him. This passage, which made such an impression on me that I still remember it vividly so many years later, has unfortunately not yet appeared in print.
[13] Zvi Yavrov, Ma’aseh Ish, vol. 2, p. 85. See R. Michel Zalman Shurkin, Meged Givot Olam, vol. 2, p. 78, who quotes his father that near Radin lived a great talmid hakham who was a member of Mizrachi. The Chafetz Chaim stood up for this rabbi even though he also spoke very strongly against Mizrachi. The city of Radin is close to Lida, so I wonder if the unnamed Mizrachi rabbi was R. Isaac Jacob Reines, who actually founded Mizrachi.

It is of interest that the Chafetz Chaim’s son, R. Aryeh Leib, who assisted him in writing the Mishnah Berurah and later became the rav of Radin, publicly supported the Mizrachi. This fact is never mentioned by Haredi writers. Yet it is also noteworthy that although R. Aryeh Leib was a member of the secret Hovevei Tziyon society in Volozhin, his public identification with Mizrachi only occurred after the death of the Chafetz Chaim. It seems clear that, out of respect for his father, he refrained from publicly identifying with Mizrachi during his father’s lifetime. See Entzyklopedia shel ha-Tziyonut ha-Datit, vol. 4, cols. 273ff.

See R. Michel Zalman Shurkin,, Meged Givot Olam, vol. 1, pp. 48-49, that R. Mendel Zaks, the son-in-law of the Chafetz Chaim, preferred the biography of the Chafetz Chaim written by R. Meir Moshe Yosher over the volume written by R. Zaks brother-in-law, R. Aryeh Leib. He explained that Yosher’s volume just gives the facts, while R. Aryeh Leib also gives reasons for various actions and practices of the Chafetz Chaim, “and we do not have permission to give reasons for the actions of gedolei Yisrael.”
[14] See also Yavrov, Ma’aseh Ish, vol. 7, p. 94, that the Chafetz Chaim wrote that there is no enjoyment from telling lashon hara, and the Hazon Ish commented that apparently the Chafetz Chaim never told lashon hara, or he would have seen that one can indeed get pleasure from this.

Regarding lashon hara, see also Yavrov, Ma’aseh Ish, vol. 5, p. 31, where the Hazon Ish is quoted as saying that it is not lashon hara to say that someone does not know how to learn, as we need to know who is learned and who is not. Since there is a purpose in knowing who is a gadol be-Torah, therefore it is permitted to say that someone is not a gadol. This approach explains how it is not uncommon to hear people saying about various rabbis that they are “not so great in learning”. But I assume that the Hazon Ish was referring to rabbis making these judgments about other rabbis, not that laypeople would offer such comments. See also ibid, vol. 7, p. 94, where it records that on Kol Nidrei night the Hazon Ish told the students that we will now speak “kosher lashon hara.” He proceeded to speak about a rabbi who imagined that the Hebrew University was the Third Temple. He then turned to heaven and declared:

נו, רבונו של עולם, מספיק בשבילו מה שכבר קלקל עד כאן!

This can only refer to R. Kook, but as is well known, the notion that R. Kook compared the Hebrew University to the Temple, or that he applied to it the biblical verse, כי מציון תצא תורה, are complete fabrications by the enemies of R. Kook which misled even many great Torah scholars. See Moshe Alharar, Likhvodah shel Torah (Jerusalem, 1988), which is devoted to the slander directed against R. Kook.