Contemporary Uses and Forms of Hasidut. Edited by Shlomo Zuckier. Yeshiva University Press, 2022. 516 pages. ISBN 978-1-60280-398-5.

REVIEWED BY BEZALEL NAOR

When the ‘Ilui of Denenburg was in Lublin, he visited the Rabbi of the city, the Gaon Rabbi Shneur Zalman [Fradkin]. Upon parting, he asked him if there is to be found in Lublin another gaon. Rabbi Shneur Zalman replied: “There resides here Rabbi Zadok HaKohen, a great gaon.” The ‘Ilui of Denenburg went to the “Kohen,” who received him with great honor.

(Shmuel Ungar, Sefer Toledot Hakohen mi-Lublin, ed. Zevi Moskowitch [Jerusalem, 1966], chap. 9, p. 36)

When the famous Gaon, Rabbi Yosef Rosen, may he live, the Rabbi of Denenburg, visited him and wished to engage him in pilpul (Talmudic dialectic), [Rabbi Zadok Hakohen] said to him: “When the Men of the Great Assembly instituted the blessing, ‘You bestow knowledge upon men,’ their intention was not that one should demonstrate ones prowess in pilpul. But since ‘from the LORD a man’s steps are set’ [Psalms 37:23], perhaps it is for this reason that His Honor has come to me. Though His Honor is an ‘ilui, he should know that I was an ‘ilui. While I was yet young, I won over all the gedolim (greats) who engaged me in pilpul. Yet, I saw afterward, that it is impossible to merit to the ‘crown of Torah’ unless we latch onto the door of the disciples of the Ba‘al Shem Tov, may his merit protect us.”

(Shlomo Gavriel Margaliyot, “Toledot Rabbeinu ha-Kohen ha-Mehaber,” Introduction to Rabbi Zadok ha-Kohen, Sihat Mal’akhei ha-Sharet [Lublin, 1927], 2a)

For the better part of the twentieth century, Yeshiva University—under its rashei yeshivah, Rabbi Moshe Soloveichik, his elder son Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (referred to simply as “the Rav”), and younger son Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik—was the vanguard of the much vaunted “Brisker derekh,” the novel method of Talmudic analysis developed by Rabbi Hayyim Soloveichik of Brisk de-Lita (Brest-Litovsk), Moshe’s father. This methodology was later transported to Yeshivat Har Etzion (in Gush Etzion), when Rabbi Yosef Dov’s son-in-law Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein became rosh yeshivah there in 1971. The Soloveichik Family, descendants of Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin, the premier disciple of the Vilna Gaon, carried on the Mitnagdic tradition of Torah li-shemah (study of Torah for Torah’s sake) as outlined in Rabbi Hayyim’s work Nefesh ha-Hayyim, and as put into practice for the better part of the nineteenth century in the Volozhin Yeshivah, ‘the mother of yeshivot.”

And then there was Shagar. ShaGaR (acronym of Shimon Gershon Rosenberg) (1949-2007), himself a product of the Dati-Le’umi (Religious Zionist) world (identified by their knitted yarmulkas, or kippot serugot) posed a challenge to the monolithic world of Brisk. With an impressive armamentarium of spiritual works—Habad, Likkutei Moharan (by Rabbi Nahman of Breslov), Mei ha-Shilo’ah (of the Izhbitser Rebbe)—his teachings found a chink in the armor of the time-hallowed derekh ha-limmud (method of study). One could say, Shagar was a Litvak’s worst nightmare. Students of the Gush, the so-called “Harvard of yeshivot hesder,” who evidently were dissatisfied with the traditional diet of the yeshivah, were taken by the siren song of Shagar, who dispensed a post-modernist presentation of Hasidic thought.

And then the unthinkable occurred. The refracted light of Hasidism bounced back to the “mother ship,” Yeshiva University, and in 2013, Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, an American Hasidic rebbe (a graduate of Yeshiva University), was appointed “Mashpi‘a” of Yeshiva University. (Previously, the title “mashpi‘a,” or “spiritual influencer,” was synonymous with Lubavitcher yeshivot.)

The meeting between the Vilna Gaon’s heirs and the Ba‘al Shem Tov’s heirs was happening.

The present volume, edited by Rabbi Dr. Shlomo Zuckier, a polymath of some distinction, and published under the auspices of Yeshiva University, is testimony to this paradigm shift within the world of Yeshiva University and Yeshivat Har Etzion.

The thought occurs to this writer that the confrontation of Shagar and Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein in the Gush, might have taken place a generation earlier had Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel become faculty at Yeshiva University. (There exists documentation to substantiate the negotiations between Heschel and Yeshiva University.) Within the halls of Yeshiva University there would have held forth the Rav and the Rebbe; the scion of the Beit Harav mi-Volozhin, and the descendant of the Apter Rov (his namesake, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel), author of Ohev Yisrael; Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev, author of Kedushat Levi; the royal house of Ruzhin; and the Rebbe of Novominsk. A generation earlier, the encounter of the Man of Halakhah and the Man of Aggadah might have produced a marvelous cross-pollination.

A single example will illustrate the fecundity of their mutually complementary thought: Prophecy.

Where the Rav, the Ish ha-Halakhah (based on Maimonides, of course) “worked overtime” to glean the halakhic takeaway of the entire prophetic enterprise, and arrived finally at the notion of imitatio Dei (“ve-halakhta bi-derakhav”), the Rebbe, the Ish ha-Aggadah, dismissed imitatio Dei. While the Man of Halakhah sought the dimension of “prophecy needed for generations” (“nevu’ah she-hutzrekhah le-dorot,” b. Megillah 14a), the Man of Aggadah searched for precisely the “teaching of the hour” (hora’at sha‘ah).

After quoting Maimonides’ Hilkhot De‘ot 1:6 (“And in this way, the prophets called God by all those epithets [kinuyim]—“Long Suffering,” “Master of Lovingkindness,” “Righteous,” “Straight,” etc.—to make known that they are good and straight ways, and a man is obligated to conduct himself by them and to emulate Him to his ability”), Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik confides:

I always had difficulty in regard to the role of the prophets of Israel. On one hand, we rule that a prophet may not innovate to add or subtract even a jot; on the other hand, the word of the LORD required prophets, and their prophecy was written down for generations. What is the purpose of their prophecy inasmuch as they were unable to innovate any matter of Halakhah? Certainly, they rebuked Israel, and rebuke was one of the purposes for which our prophets were sent. However, I still have difficulty saying that in their prophecy they told Israel nothing in the Halakhic sense.

But now all is crystal clear. There is an entire Torah in the books of the Prophets—the Torah of the ways of the LORD, the Torah of the epithets that obligates man in imitating his Creator. … Tout court, prophecy came to teach man how to participate in the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He, and to attain His epithets.

(Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, Shi‘urim le-Zekher Abba Mori [Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 2002], vol. 2, pp. 188-189)

In revolt against Maimonides, and nurtured on the iconoclasm of Pshysucha and Kotzk, Heschel, proponent of divine pathos, searches for exactly the “teaching of the moment,” the prophet’s experience of the moment. (As one of the authors in the collection, the late Ya‘akov Elman, wrote, “Individualism in Przysucha-Kotzk-Izbica-Lublin involves not just individual humans, but also individual moments in time and circumstance” [p. 87].)

Heschel writes:

Prophetic sympathy is by no means identical with the imitation of God, which in the broadest sense is also a biblical motif (cf. Lev. 19:2). The difference is the more significant because the resemblance, too, is obvious. Imitatio, the pattern of which is a concrete life-history, is realized as a practical way of life. Sympathy, whose object is an inner spiritual reality, is a disposition of the soul. The prototype of imitatio is an unchanging model; a constant traditional knowledge of it indicates a ready path to be followed. Pathos, on the other hand, is ever changing, according to the circumstances of the given situation. The content of sympathy is not fixed by any predetermination. What is abiding in it, is simply the orientation toward the living reality of God.

Imitatio is concerned with a past, sympathy with a present, occurrence. Imitatio is remote from history; what is at stake in sympathy is an actual historical situation.

(Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Prophets [Peabody, Mass.: Hendrikson, 2010], Part Two, p. 102)

And again, in even more strident terms:

The goal of sympathy is not to become like unto God, but to become effective as a prophet through approximation to the pathos of God. In sympathy, divine pathos is actually experienced in the moment of crisis; in imitatio, the fixed pattern is transmitted. In the former case, an assimilation or creative understanding is necessary; in the latter, mere knowledge is sometimes sufficient.

In imitatio, the whole being of the deity is often taken as the pattern; in sympathy, only its aspect as pathos is taken as the pattern.

(Ibid. pp. 102-103)

We read that when a meeting was arranged between Rabbis Heschel and Soloveitchik in the 1960s to map out a strategy for confronting the Vatican, at their initial encounter, these two Jewish leaders (whose parallel paths traversed Warsaw, Berlin and New York) discussed (at Rabbi Soloveitchik’s insistence)—Yiddish literature. Perhaps the time has come for the denizens of the worlds of Halakhah and Aggadah to discuss—Prophecy.

“Seeing the Infinite in Torah”: A Memorial to the Gaon Rabbi Shelomo Fisher (Author of Beit Yishai)

By Rabbi Bezalel Naor

ANCESTRY

Rabbi Shelomo Yehonathan Yehudah Fisher was born in Jerusalem in 1932 to Rabbi Aharon and Devorah Fisher. He was named after his paternal grandfather, Shelomo Fisher (1852-1932), Rabbi of Karlsburg, Siebenbürgen.

Rabbi Shelomo Fisher the Elder, an Oberlander, was a disciple of Rabbi Abraham Samuel Benjamin Schreiber of Pressburg (Ketav Sofer) and of Rabbi Isaac Dov (Seligmann Baer) Bamberger (Würzberger Rav). When Rabbi Fisher assumed the rabbinate of Karlsburg in 1891, it was a Status Quo community. Eventually, he prevailed upon the community to become Orthodox. (In Hungary there were three types of Jewish communities: Neolog or Reform, Status Quo Ante, and separatist Orthodox.) After his passing, his son Aharon published in Jerusalem his sefer, Korbani Lahmi (2 parts, 1933-1937). Besides Talmudic erudition, the work evidences linguistic ability. (His son Aharon was also known to be a talented linguist.) At the beginning of the sefer there is a photo of the author. Our Rabbi Shelomo Fisher bore an uncanny resemblance to his paternal grandfather.

Rabbi Aharon Fisher arrived in Jerusalem in 1919. Settling into the Old Yishuv, he changed his clothing from European couture to the traditional Yerushalmi levush. Thus, the inhabitants of the Old Yishuv viewed him as a “ba‘al teshuvah,” or newcomer in their midst. In 1923, he married Devorah Yager. (See more on her background below.) Aharon became a disciple of the venerated Sephardic sage, Hakham Shelomo Eliezer Alfandari (MaHaRaShA, later known as the “Sabba Kadisha”) (d. 1930). Ideologically, Aharon Fisher followed Rabbi Yosef Hayyim Sonnenfeld, Rabbi of the separatist community of Jerusalem, known as the ‘Edah ha-Haredith. Along with the Dutchman Dr. Jacob Israel de Haan, Aharon Fisher lent a worldliness to Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s camp. Subsequent to de Haan’s assassination in 1924, Rabbi Aharon Fisher named his son “Yisrael Ya‘akov” after him. The Gaon Yisrael Ya‘akov Fisher (1928-2003) would go on to become the Rav of the Zikhron Moshe neighborhood of Jerusalem and dayyan of the Beth Din Tsedek of the ‘Edah Haredit, as well as author of the multivolume set Even Yisrael on Rambam and responsa.

Rabbi Aharon Fisher was the brother-in-law of the renowned posek, Rabbi Alter Shaul Pfeffer (1874-1936) of New York. They were married to two sisters. Rabbi Feffer’s Rebbetsin Hayah Sarah and Rabbi Aharon Fisher’s Rebbetsin Devorah were the daughters of R’ Meir Yehudah (Leib) and Rahel Yager of Bitchkov, Hungary. (Rabbi Pfeffer, a born and bred Galician, went to reside in Bitchkov, where he established a yeshivah, and would later serve as Rabbi of New York’s Beth ha-Medrash ha-Gadol Anshei Ungarn.) Responsum no. 99 of the second volume of Rabbi Pfeffer’s Avnei Zikaron (New York, 1931) is addressed to his brother-in-law Aharon Fisher of Jerusalem. The responsum concerns something Aharon Fisher’s maternal ancestor, “ha-gaon he-‘atsum Tiv Gittin” (i.e. Rabbi Tsevi Hirsch Heller) wrote concerning the mahtot (fire-pans) of Korah’s congregation. Rabbi Pfeffer also wrote to his brother-in-law a letter approving Korbani Lahmi.

ROSH YESHIVAH AND DAYYAN

Rabbi Aharon died prematurely in 1942, leaving young orphans. In the introduction to his Derashot Beit Yishai, his son, Rabbi Shelomo Fisher expresses his gratitude to the gaon and tsaddik, Rabbi Matisyahu Davis who raised him and his brothers. (Rabbi Matisyahu Davis was a kanai, a zealot, who after Rav Kook’s passing, revised his thinking about the man, and pointedly attended the levayah or funeral procession of Rebbetsin Reiza Rivkah Kook in 1951.) Rabbi Shelomo Fisher edited Rabbi Davis’ posthumous work on Rambam, Matat Melekh (Jerusalem, 1968).

In that same preface, the author expresses his eternal gratitude to Rabbi Eliezer Yehudah Finkel, Rosh Yeshivah of Mir in Jerusalem, where Rabbi Shelomo studied for some years. As he put it, he merited Rabbi Finkel’s “great closeness” (“kirvato ha-gedolah”).

Rabbi Fisher married Leah Brandt, the daughter of Rabbi Eliezer Brandt, a Jerusalem Torah scholar. (More on this remarkable tsaddeket later.)

Rabbi Fisher’s first “shtelle” (position) was as a maggid shi‘ur in Rabbi Yissakhar Meir’s Yeshivat ha-Negev in Netivot. Later he would become Rosh Yeshivah of Rabbi Mordekhai Elefant’s Yeshivat ITRI in Beit Tsefafa, Jerusalem. (Rabbi Elefant, an American, called his yeshivah, “Israel Torah Research Institute,” or ITRI.) Rabbi Fisher remained in that position for decades until his passing.

The lifestyle of Rabbi Fisher was spartan, to say the least. The entire week, he resided in a simple room of the yeshivah dormitory. There were no “creature comforts,” to speak of. In Lithuanian tradition, Rabbi Shelomo would learn standing at his “shtender” for hours on end. To that barebones room, would come visitors of various types: questioners seeking halakhic guidance; young men thirsting for knowledge. On one of my visits, Rav Shelomo told me that I had been preceded by three “mekubbalot” (women kabbalists)!

Once a week, for Shabbat, Rabbi Fisher would return home. Originally, the Fisher family lived in Me’ah She‘arim. Later, Rabbi and Rebbetsin Fisher moved to Rehov Hakablan 13 in the new Har Nof section of Jerusalem.

Rabbi Fisher would speak to his wife on the yeshivah phone in the morning at the conclusion of Shaharit. Otherwise, the Rebbetsin was on her own. In the introductions of all his works, Rabbi Fisher sings the praise of his beloved wife, “the tsaddeket Mrs. Leah who … all the days carries alone with true love and amazing devotion the entire yoke of the house and the family, and ‘without her help, Tushiyah (i.e. Torah) would be far from me.’”(Rabbi Aharon Fisher had written those last words—a quote from Job 6:13, as interpreted in b. Yevamot 62b—concerning his wife, Shelomo’s mother, Devorah; see Korbani Lahmi, Introduction, p. 12.) Rebbetsin Leah Fisher passed in 2016.

At the invitation of Chief Rabbi Avraham Shapira, Rabbi Fisher also served for a time, in the 1990s, as a dayyan of the Beit Din of Jerusalem.

DEREKH HA-LIMMUD (METHODOLOGY)

Rav Shelomo Fisher’s intellectual hero was the Hazon Ish, Rabbi Abraham Isaiah Karelitz, the sage of B’nei Berak. In the introduction to Beit Yishai Hiddushim, he refers to him as “the greatest of the aharonim (late authorities), the man of God (ish ha-Elohim), our teacher, Maran he-Hazon Ish, of blessed memory.” Though Rav Shelomo encountered the Hazon Ish but once in his life, when, as a youth, he filed by to give “Shalom” to the great man, his printed works exerted an enormous influence upon him.

Rav Shelomo had some exposure to the Brisker Rav, Rabbi Isaac Ze’ev Soloveichik, in Jerusalem, yet his hero was definitely the Hazon Ish.

These two sages—the Brisker Rav and the Hazon Ish—represented two different darkhei ha-limmud or methods of studying Talmud. Rabbi Hayyim Soloveichik of Brisk had innovated a new method of analyzing a Talmudic sugyah. His hasbarah or conceptualization conquered the yeshivah world. The Hazon Ish, on the other hand, maintained the older method of peshat, or simple reading of the text. The Hazon Ish viewed himself as preserving the legacy of the Vilna Gaon, the pashtan par excellence. (It is not coincidental that Rabbi Fisher became proficient in the works of the Gaon, both nigleh and nistar, exoteric and esoteric. He once edited from manuscripts the Gaon’s notes to the Sifra or Torat Kohanim.)

In none of this was there any personal animosity. This was truly a “mahloket le-shem shmayim,” “a controversy for the sake of heaven” (m. Avot 5:17). Rabbi Fisher related that the Hazon Ish’s critique of Hiddushei Rabbeinu Hayyim Halevi (since published) was delivered to the Hazon Ish’s students on the Eve of Yom Kippur, so that none would suspect him of harboring any “negi‘ot” or vested interests.

Rav Shelomo did not think that the two methods of Brisk and the Hazon Ish were mutually exclusive. He viewed them as complementary, and in his teaching and writing, he would present insights of both the Brisker Rav and the Hazon Ish, providing the best of both worlds.

BEKI’UT (ENCYCLOPEDIC KNOWLEDGE)

Besides his photographic recall of the Talmud, Rabbi Fisher was also thoroughly conversant with Hakirah, or Jewish philosophy, and Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism). His penchant for philosophy led him to publish a new edition of Hasdai Crescas’ ’Or Hashem (Jerusalem, 1990). His attraction to Kabbalah expressed itself especially in the expertise he developed in the Kabbalistic writings of the Vilna Gaon.

This made him unique among the sages of Jerusalem. Those in his league in Halakhah, such as Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv and Hakham ‘Ovadiah Yosef, did not claim proficiency in these other fields of Jewish learning. In this respect, Rav Fisher resembled—Rav Kook.

RAV FISHER AND RAV KOOK

Many wonder about Rav Fisher’s relation to the works of Rav Kook. One might say that he viewed Rav Kook’s sifrei mahshavah (works of Jewish Thought) the way Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed is viewed by some. Which is to say, if one is perplexed, then one needs to study the Guide; if one is not perplexed, then one need not study it. There were individuals whom Rav Fisher advised to study Rav Kook’s works; others, he would dissuade. He found ludicrous the recitation of Orot as if it were the Book of Psalms, just as he derided Breslover Hasidim who recited Likkutei MOHaRaN in this manner. (Rav Fisher himself made a careful study of Likkutei MOHaRaN and occasionally quoted the book.)

Rav Fisher came from a background that was highly critical of Rav Kook, yet he was able to free himself of many of the prejudices of his upbringing. (For the record, this writer [BN] once read a letter written by Rav Shelomo’s father, Aharon Fisher, to the editor of Kol Yisrael, the Agudah’s newspaper in Jerusalem, insisting that the paper not disrespect Chief Rabbi Kook.)

The last time I visited Rav Fisher, on a Friday morning, in his home in Har Nof, he gifted me the second, revised editions of his works, Beit Yishai Derashot and Beit Yishai Hiddushim, which had been recently published. On that occasion, he showed me how he slipped into a footnote a reference to Rav Kook’s Eder ha-Yekar. (See Beit Yishai Derashot [2004], p. 126, end note 3. In the earlier edition of 2000, the footnote is found on page 110.) The context is the important concept of “kabbalat ha-’ummah,” Kelal Yisrael’s acceptance as a Halakhic principle. The chapter in Beit Yishai (chap. 15) is entited “Be-‘Inyan Kabbalat ha-Rabbim.”

Perhaps the best way to sum up Rav Fisher’s perspective on Rav Kook, is by saying that it was “yeshivish” by today’s standards. He shared this outlook with his mehutan, Rabbi Simhah Kook of Rehovot, shelit”a. (Rabbi Fisher’s daughter is married to Rabbi Kook’s son, Rabbi Hayyim Kook.)

KELAL YISRAEL

Rabbi Fisher was unique in yet another aspect: his ability to bridge the gap between the “black hat” yeshivot of the so-called Haredim and the yeshivot of the “knitted kippot” (kippot serugot) or so-called Datiyim-Le’umiyim. (Back in the day, it was the great divide between Agudah and Mizrahi.)

Dressed in his distinctive Me’ah She‘arim apparel, consisting of a long black frock and a low, flat samet hat, Rav Fisher taught in the many yeshivot hesder: Kiryat Arba, Beit El, Gush ‘Etsion, Ma‘aleh Adumim, Sha‘alvim.

THE SPIRITUAL RENASCENCE IN ERETS YISRAEL

Rav Shelomo viewed our post-Holocaust era as being on a par with the generation that followed the Spanish Expulsion of 1492. In the aftermath of that tragic event, there exploded in Tsefat in the sixteenth century a burst of unparalleled creative energy. In a single generation, there was produced both Rabbi Joseph Caro’s Shulhan ‘Arukh and the Kabbalah of Rabbi Moses Cordovero and Rabbi Isaac Luria. Rabbi Fisher viewed the rebirth of Torah in Erets Yisrael after the terrible destruction of World War Two on such a grand historical scale.

REPOSITORY OF THE HISTORY OF THE OLD YISHUV

I would be remiss if I did not mention Rabbi Fisher’s role as a historian. Having grown up in the Old Yishuv of Jerusalem, he was often able to set the record straight on many accounts.

For starters, Hakham Shelomo Eliezer Alfandari—unlike the distortion of Rabbi Asher Zelig Margulies and the dramatization of Mas‘ot Yerushalayim (Munkatsh, 1931)—was not a kanai or zealot. (On the other hand, Rabbi Shelomo Eliashov, author of the kabbalistic work, Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah, was a kanai.)

Rabbi Fisher knew too of the intimate friendship of Rabbi Akiva Porush and Rabbi Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap before “a mountain rose up between them” (“gavah tura beinayhu”). Once an inseparable havruta, Rabbi Porush would go on to become Rav Kook’s worst detractor, and Rabbi Harlap, Rav Kook’s greatest defender.

“LAKU HA-ME’OROT” (“THE LIGHTS WENT OUT”)

Rav Shelomo passed on the fourteenth of Kislev, 5782. He was buried that evening on the Mount of Olives. On that very night, the fifteenth of Kislev, in faraway North America, we witnessed a spectacular lunar eclipse. (Some astronomers called it “a once in a century celestial event”; others, “once in five hundred years”; others, “once in a millennium.”) The beraita in b. Sukkah 29a states: “A lunar eclipse is a bad omen for Israel, for Israel count time by the moon.” (See the discussion in Beit Yishai Derashot, pp. 207-208, note 13, regarding the supposed philosophic problem posed by the scientific predictability of eclipses.)

SEEING THE INFINITE IN TORAH

If one would ask me what was so special about Rabbi Shelomo Fisher, I would respond (in the words of Rav Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap): Through Rabbi Shelomo, hk”m, “we merited to see the aspect of the Ein Sof, the Infinite, that is in Torah.” (See Mei Marom, vol. 8, Bereshit [Jerusalem, 1994], Noah, ma’amar 8, p. 28.)

The Anonymous Author of Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna: An Antinomian or a Radical Maimonidean?

By Bezalel Naor

Today, it is an accepted fact in scholarly circles that Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna form a single unit that postdates the main body of Zohar.[1] More than one reader has been scandalized by statements in Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna likening the Mishnah to a shifhah or maidservant.[2] Predictably, in response, there grew an apologetic literature that attempts to justify how such shocking statements are compatible with normative Halakhah.[3]

One cannot rule out altogether the assertion by various secular historians that these pejorative statements betray an antinomian streak,[4] though to be certain, such statements of Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna are not situated in the present but deferred to the future. With this proviso, they are no more “antinomian” than the statement of Rav Yosef in the Talmud: “Mitsvot (commandments) are nullified in the future.”[5]

I wish to present a hitherto unexplored possibility. It seems likely that the anonymous author of Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna (which surfaced in Spain in the first decades of the fourteenth century)[6] was not so much an antinomian as a radical Maimonidean. It is in this light that we should understand negative statements issuing from the author regarding the study of Mishnah or those comparing the various Talmudic exercises and mental gymnastics to the backbreaking labor to which the Children of Israel were subjected in Egyptian exile.[7] These do not spring from an anti-halakhic mindset but rather from taking at face value Maimonides’ syllabus as laid out in his introduction to Mishneh Torah:

Hence, I have entitled this work Mishneh Torah (Review of the Law), for the reason that a person, who first reads the Written Law and then this [compilation], will know from it the whole of the Oral Law, without having need to read any other book between them [italics mine—BN].

We should be asking ourselves: Are there any historical grounds to assert that in Spain in the early 1300s there were halakhic Jews who openly—we should add, brazenly—promulgated the Maimonidean curriculum to the exclusion of Talmudic studies and the concomitant exercise of pilpul?

I offer the words of Joseph Ibn Kaspi:

Therefore my rabbis, listen to me and God will listen to you! I see that it is the intention of those among you who engage in Gemara, novellae and opinions (shitot),[8] to know proofs for the practical commandments, for you are not satisfied with the tradition from Mishneh Torah composed by Rabbenu Moshe [i.e. Maimonides], though he said: “And one shall have no need of any other book between them [Italics mine—BN].”

Here is an example. Ha-Rav ha-Moreh [i.e. Maimonides] wrote in his laws: “A sukkah that is higher than twenty ammah is invalid.”[9] Yet you despair and are without comfort until you know whether the reason is because “the eye does not rest upon it,” or because “one is not sitting in the shade of the sekhakh (overhead boughs) but of the walls,” or because “the sukkah must be a temporary dwelling,” as written in the Gemara.[10] Even this will not satisfy the very punctilious (mehadrin min ha-mehadrin) until they have added problems and opinions (shitot)[11]: “If you should say,” “one may say,” etc.

Truly, I admit that this is good, but why is the knowledge of proofs an obligation in regard to practical commandments, while not [even] an option,[12] but an outright prohibition when it comes to commandments of the heart? What sin has been committed by these four commandments of the heart (that I mentioned) that you do not treat them in the same manner but are satisfied by a weak tradition of few words, wanting comprehension?[13]

Who was Joseph Ibn Kaspi? Born either in Arles, Provence or Argentière, Languedoc,[14] around the year 1280, he passed in 1345 on the island of Majorca. His was a peripatetic life. The first period of his life was spent in the south of France. Later he gravitated to Barcelona, where his married son David resided. At approximately age thirty-five he travelled to Egypt for several months,[15] hoping to acquire there the intellectual legacy of Maimonides from the Master’s fourth and fifth generation descendants but was sorely disappointed in this respect. He even entertained the thought of traveling to Fez, Morocco in search of wisdom,[16] but that particular journey never materialized.

Ibn Kaspi’s reputation is that of an ultra-rationalist. His naturalistic explanations of events in the Bible far exceed even those of Maimonides; for that reason his opinions were marginalized. Though there is an abundance of manuscripts, it was only in the nineteenth century that Ibn Kaspi’s works were published from manuscript. (A few still remain in manuscript.) To this day, his interpretations have yet to “mainstream.”

My juxtaposing the Maimonidean enthusiast Joseph ibn Kaspi to the anonymous author of the kabbalistic works known as Ra‘ya Mehemna and Tikkunei Zohar may strike the reader of this essai as bizarre. Besides their contemporaneity, what basis is there for this juxtaposition?

Geographically, there are certainly grounds for relating the two authors to one another. Though separated by the Pyrenees, there was much traffic, intellectual and otherwise between Provence and Northern Spain. Some of the greatest families of Provencal scholars originated in Spain: the Kimhis, Joseph and his son David, who excelled as grammarians and Bible exegetes; and the Tibbonides, Judah and his son Samuel, who were the premier translators of classic philosophic works from Judeo-Arabic to Hebrew. And the traffic was two-way. Prominent Provencal families wended their way to Sefarad. The halakhist Rabbi Zerahyah Halevi (“Ba‘al ha-Ma’or”), a native of Gerona, established his career in Narbonne, only to return to Gerona at the end of his days. (His great-grandson was the Talmudist Rabbi Aharon Halevi of Barcelona.)[17] Ibn Kaspi is an example of a Provencal scholar who relocated to Catalonia: Barcelona, and eventually, the Balearic isle of Majorca. Thus, there could easily have been a sharing of ideas between southern France and northern Spain.[18]

In terms of mindset, the border between rationalist philosophy and kabbalah was especially porous at this time. Whoever authored Ra‘ya Mehemna and Tikkunei Zohar, carried with him much Maimonidean baggage. Linguistically, it is apparent to any student of the Ra‘ya Mehemna and Tikkunim that they are rife with the philosophic jargon made popular by the Tibbonides’ translations from Judeo-Arabic.[19] And let us not forget that the very backbone of Ra‘ya Mehemna is an enumeration of the commandments à la Maimonides’ Sefer ha-Mitsvot. (Rabbi Reuven Margaliyot isolated these commandments and presented them in orderly fashion in the introduction to his edition of the Zohar.)

*

When we put it all together it makes perfect sense. As shocking as some of its bold statements may be, the literary oeuvre of Ra‘ya Mehemna and Tikkunei Zohar cannot be construed as issuing from the mind of an antinomian. An antinomian would not go to the bother of constructing a Book of Commandments after a fashion. Rather, I maintain that the downgrading of the study of Talmud in general, and Mishnah in particular, should be attributed to a radical adoption of Maimonides’ curriculum of studies, whereby his halakhic magnum opus Mishneh Torah has superseded the study of Mishnah and Gemara.

In this respect, Maimonides’ devotees in Provence and Spain ventured beyond the Master himself. Maimonides penned a convincing letter to Rabbi Pinhas, the Dayyan (Justice) of Alexandria,[20] that regardless of what he wrote in the introduction to Mishneh Torah, the traditional study of the Talmudic tractates (albeit as summarized in Alfasi’s Halakhot) continues unabated in his beit midrash.[21] The curriculum that Maimonides once proposed remained an abstraction. It seems that Egyptian Jewry was not overly receptive to this innovation. Only well over a century later, did this great intellectual experiment of Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, a “hivemind of halakhah,”[22] designed to replace the “dialectics of Abayye and Rava,” find foot soldiers in the likes of Ibn Kaspi and the anonymous author of Ra‘ya Mehemna and Tikkunei Zohar. They launched their campaign from the soil of Provence and Spain.

Our thesis does not ride on the reputation of Joseph ibn Kaspi. Ibn Kaspi’s statement is perhaps the most outspoken and provocative call for adoption of Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah as a way of bypassing Talmudic studies, yet there are other testimonies (from the least expected quarter) that the exclusive study of Mishneh Torah was starting to gain traction in medieval Spain.

The great halakhist Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh) emigrated from Germany to Spain at the turn of the fourteenth century and eventually emerged as the Rabbi of Toledo, Castile, where he left his stamp on the shape of Castilian Halakhah.[23] Evidently, Rabbi Asher had cause to fulminate against authorities who decided questions of practical Halakhah based solely on the rulings of Mishneh Torah without recourse to Talmud.

Rabbi Asher writes:

I heard from a great man in Barcelona who was eminently familiar with three orders [of the Talmud, i.e. Mo‘ed, Nashim and Nezikin]. He said: “I am amazed at people who have not studied Gemara and adjudicate based on their reading in the books of Maimonides, of blessed memory, believing that they understand them. I know myself, when it comes to the three orders that I studied, I am able to understand when I read Maimonides’ books. However, his books that are based on Kodashim and Zera‘im—I do not understand at all. And I know that it is that way for them regarding all his books![24]

*

Rabbi Yahya Kafah (1850-1931) was not wide of the mark when he asserted that those statements in Zoharic literature that undercut the Talmud (comprised of Mishnah and Gemara) were designed to enhance the prestige of the Kabbalah. (By the same token, one may safely say that Ibn Kaspi’s desire to streamline the study of Halakhah, stemmed from his valorization of Philosophy.)

Logically, our next question should be: What was Maimonides’ own stake in proposing that his compendium Mishneh Torah take the place of protracted Talmudic studies? Maimonides provides a simple answer to this question in his introduction to Mishneh Torah:

At this time, severe vicissitudes prevail, and all feel the pressure of hard times. The wisdom of our wise men has disappeared; the understanding of our prudent men is hidden. Hence, the commentaries of the Geonim and their compilations of laws and responses, which they took care to make clear, have in our times become hard to understand so that only a few individuals properly comprehend them. Needless to add that such is the case in regard to the Talmud itself—the Babylonian as well as the Palestinian—the Sifra, the Sifre and the Tosefta, all of which works require a broad mind, a wise soul and lengthy time, and then one can know from them the correct practice as to what is forbidden or permitted, and the other rules of the Torah.

On these grounds, I, Moses the son of Rabbi Maimon the Sefardi, bestirred myself…[25]

While perhaps not the ideal curriculum, the exigencies of the time demanded the production of a bold new work on the order of Mishneh Torah that would preserve the practice of Halakhah for the masses ill-equipped to make their way through the labyrinthine discussions of the Talmud or even the decisions of the Gaonica (originally intended to clarify the canons of Jewish Law).

But was there perhaps another purpose of Mishneh Torah that Maimonides kept to himself and was not willing to divulge in writing? In Hilkhot Talmud Torah (Laws of the Study of Torah), Maimonides would proceed to sketch the traditional trivium of Mikra (Bible), Mishnah and Talmud, [26]such that Pardes (the esoteric teachings of Judaism) comes under the rubric of “Talmud”[27]; and that furthermore, the mature scholar who has covered the requisite literature and is thus no longer bound by the daily trivium, “will devote all his days exclusively to Talmud, according to the breadth of his mind and the composure of his intellect.”[28]

Was the condensing of Talmud into Mishneh Torah Maimonides’ master plan to free time for the study of Pardes or esoterica? Should that prove true, then Ibn Kaspi’s interest,[29] and mutatis mutandis that of the Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna, was not so very different from that of HaRav HaMoreh.[30]

[1] This fact was recognized two and a half centuries ago by the discerning eye of Rabbi Jacob Emden. See Emden’s Mitpahat Sefarim, Altona 1768, Part 1, chap. 3 (6b); chaps. 6-7 (16b-17b); Lvov 1870, pp. 12, 37-39.

Whereas Zohar itself has come to be associated with the name of Rabbi Moses de Leon, no single name surfaces in regard to Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna (though there are some who would attribute the latter to a yet unidentified disciple of De Leon).

It should be mentioned in passing that even in regard to the authorship of the Zohar there has been a sea change in scholarly thinking. Unlike Scholem, who was convinced that the single author of the Zohar was Rabbi Moses de Leon, current thinking (spearheaded by Yehuda Liebes) rejects this notion of single authorship and assumes the Zohar to be a collaborative or composite work on the part of a mystic fraternity or haburah.

[2] See Zohar I, 27b. This is actually a segment of Tikkunei Zohar that the Italian printers in 1558 mistakenly embedded in Zohar. See Editor Daniel Matt’s note to the Pritzker edition of the Zohar, vol. 1 (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2004), p. 170, note 499. See also the Introduction to Tikkunei Zohar (Vilna, 1867), 15b and gloss of the Vilna Gaon, s.v. shalta shifhah.

And see the Tikkunim appended to Tikkunei Zohar (Margaliyot ed.), tikkun 9 (147a).

By the same token, there are passages where the Mishnah is related to Metatron, the “‘eved” (male servant). See e.g. Ra‘ya Mehemna in Zohar III, 29b; and The Hebrew Writings of the Author of Tiqqunei Zohar and Ra‘aya Mehemna (Hebrew), ed. Efraim Gottlieb (Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 2003), p. 1, line 3.

Moshe Idel has demonstrated that this motif whereby the Mishnah is juxtaposed to Metatron is to be found in the obscure work of Rabbi Abraham Esquira, Yesod ‘Olam (Ms. Moscow, Günzburg 607, 80a-b). See Idel’s introduction to The Hebrew Writings of the Author of Tiqqunei Zohar and Ra‘aya Mehemna, pp. 23-24, 27-28. Inter alia, Esquira’s text makes mention of “six hundred orders of Mishnah.” This is a reference to b. Hagigah 14a. See Rashi there s.v. shesh me’ot sidrei Mishnah. Thus, p. 23, n. 76 of Idel’s introduction is in need of correction. By the same token, Esquira’s “seven hundred orders of confusion” (“shesh me’ot sidrei bilbulim”) is a parody of the “seven hundred orders of Mishnah” in b. Hagigah 14a. See Idel, ibid. p. 28, n. 105.

Concerning the juxtaposition of the six-lettered Metatron, the servant, to the six days of the work week, see the Vilna Gaon’s gloss to Tikkunei Zohar (Vilna, 1867), tikkun 18 (33b), s.v. be-gin de-Metatron. There is precedent in a Teshuvat ha-Ge’onim (Gaonic responsum) for restricting the activity of the angelic realm to the six days of the week and reserving the seventh Sabbath day for Israel’s sphere of influence. See Tosafot, Sanhedrin 37b, s.v. mi-kenaf ha-’arets zemirot shama‘nu; and Rabbi Reuven Margaliyot, Margaliyot ha-Yam ad locum, and idem, Nitsutsei Zohar to Ra‘ya Mehemna in Zohar III, 93a, note 2.

Later, in sixteenth-century Safed, Rabbi Isaac Luria advised reserving the Sabbath day for the exclusive study of Kabbalah (“as was the custom of the early ones”), while relegating the study of Halakhah to the six work days. This is hinted to in the two verses “Hishtahavu la-Hashem be-hadrat kodesh” (whose initials form the word “Kabbalah”) and “Hari‘u la-Hashem kol ha-’arets (initials “Halakhah”). See Rabbi Hayyim Vital, Peri ‘Ets Hayyim (Dubrovna, 1804), Sha‘ar ha-Shabbat , chap. 21 (103c); Rabbi Jacob Zemah, Nagid u-Metsaveh (Lublin, 1881), 25b. And see Peri ‘Ets Hayyim, Sha‘ar Hanhagat ha-Limmud, s.v. kavvanat keri’at ha-Mishnah (85a): “Know that the Mishnah is Metatron in Yetsirah…”

In the Ra‘ya Mehemna in Zohar III, 279b, the Mishnah is referred to as the “shifhah…the female of the ‘eved, na‘ar (“lad”). “Na‘ar” or “lad” is yet another epithet for Metatron; see b. Yevamot 16b (based on Psalms 37:25) and Tosafot ad loc. s.v. pasuk zeh sar ha-‘olam amaro. Just as Metatron is referred to as “‘eved,” “for his name is like that of his Master” (b. Sanhedrin 38b). Both Metatron and Shadai have the numerical value of 318. (In Ra‘ya Mehemna in Zohar III, 82b it is spelled out that “Metatron is a good servant, a faithful servant to his Master.”)

In Ra‘ya Mehemna, in Zohar III, 276a, three of the most difficult tractates of the Mishnah are singled out for derision, ‘Eruvin, Niddah and Yevamot, as they are assigned the acronym ‘Ani (poor man).  The Vilna Gaon points out that the derogation of the rabbis, students of the Mishnah, is not absolute, but only relative to the “ba‘alei kabbalah” (“masters of the Kabbalah”). See Yahel ’Or, ed. Naftali Hertz Halevi (Vilna, 1882), Tetse, 276a, s.v. ve-i teima.

Earlier in that passage (Zohar 275b) we have the underhanded compliment, “Hakham Mufle Ve-Rav Rabbanan” (“Outstanding Sage and Rabbi of Rabbis”), whose initials spell the word “hamor” (jackass). (This cynical remark found its way into the modern mystery novel by Richard Zimler, The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon [Woodstock, NY: The Overlook Press, 1998], p. 44.)

One who found absolutely outrageous the labeling of the Mishnah as a “shifhah” was the Chief Rabbi of Sana‘a, Yemen, Rabbi Yahya ben Shelomo (Sliman) Kafah (1850-1931). See his ‘Amal u-Re‘ut Ru’ah va-Haramot u-Teshuvatam (Tel-Aviv, 1914; limited facsimile edition Jerusalem 1976), p. 12. Available at hebrewbooks.org.

‘Amal u-Re‘ut Ru’ah va-Haramot u-Teshuvatam is Rabbi Kafah’s rejoinder to the bans placed upon him by the various batei din (courts) of Jerusalem—Ashkenazic, Hasidic and Sefardic. It struck Rabbi Kafah as highly ironic that he, a staunch defender of Talmudic Judaism, was placed under the ban, while the Zohar, with its numerous derisions of Talmud and its students, was upheld and, what is more, sanctified. Ibid. p. 14.

The constraints of space do not allow us to explore the controversy regarding the Zohar that erupted in Yemen in the early part of the twentieth century between Rabbi Kafah and his disciples, the self-styled Darda‘im, on the one hand, and their opponents, to whom they referred as ‘Ikeshim. (The first label is based on the Midrashic pun on Darda‘ [1Kings 5:11] as Dor De‘ah, “a generation of knowledge”; the second comes from Deuteronomy 32:5, “dor ‘ikesh u-petaltol,” “a perverse and twisted generation.”) At the instigation of his critics, Rabbi Kafah was jailed on more than one occasion by the Muslim authorities. (Rabbi Kafah alludes to this in ‘Amal u-Re‘ut Ru’ah va-Haramot u-Teshuvatam, p. 14.)

The man who acted as a peacemaker between the warring factions was none other than Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook. While upholding Rabbi Kafah’s status as an unusual Torah scholar, Rabbi Kook conveyed to him that he had erred in taking literally passages that were intended to be understood metaphorically. See Igrot ha-Rayah, vol. 2, ed. RZYH Kook (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook 1961), no. 626 (pp. 247-248); Haskamot ha-Rayah, ed. Y.M. Yismah and B.Z Kahana (Jerusalem, 1988), no. 41 (pp. 46-47); Ma’amrei ha-Rayah, vol. 2, ed. Elisha Aviner (Langenauer) (Jerusalem, 1984), pp. 518-521. An incomplete variant of the letter in Haskamot ha-Rayah was published by Rabbi Moshe Zuriel, Otserot ha-Rayah, vol. 1 (Rishon LeZion, 2002), no. 76 (p. 447). See further Rabbi Zevi Yehudah Hakohen Kook, Li-Sheloshah be-Ellul I (Jerusalem, 1938; photo offset Jerusalem, 1978), par. 107 (p. 46).

For Rav Kook’s involvement with the Yemenite community and facilitating their ‘aliyah at the beginning of the twentieth century, see ibid. par. 42 (p. 21); and recently Ben Zion Rosenfeld, “Yahaso shel ha-Rayah Kook le-Hakhmei ha-Mizrah bi-Tekufat Yaffo 5664-5674 (1904-1914)” [“HaRav Avraham Isaac HaCohen Kook and his Attitude Regarding the Sephardi Sages During His Stay in Jaffa 5664–567 4(1904–1914)”], Libi ba-Mizrah (My Heart Is in the East) 1 (2019), pp. 287-290.

[3] See Rabbi Hayyim Vital, introduction to Sha‘ar ha-Hakdamot (printed as an introduction to the standard editions of ‘Ets Hayyim); Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, Iggeret ha-Kodesh (4^th section of Tanya), chap. 26 (especially 143a). And see Rabbi Dov Baer Shneuri, Bi’urei ha-Zohar (Brooklyn, NY: Kehot, 2015), Bereshit (to Zohar I, 27b), 5a-8d.

[4] Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews, cited in Gershom G. Scholem, “The Meaning of the Torah in Jewish Mysticism,” in idem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken Books, 1970), p. 70, n. 1.

[5] b. Niddah 61b.

Contra Graetz, Scholem, referring to “the ambiguity of certain statements about the hierarchical order of the Bible, the Mishnah, the Talmud, and the Kabbalah, which are frequent in the Ra‘ya Mehemna and the Tikkunim, and which have baffled not a few readers of these texts,” states categorically: “It would be a mistake to term these passages antinomistic or anti-Talmudic” (op. cit. p. 70). Rather, to describe the peculiar posture of the Ra‘ya Mehemna and the Tikkunim, Scholem coins the term “utopian antinomianism” or “antinomian utopia” (op. cit., pp. 80, 82).

Other secular scholars who objected to Graetz’s judgment concerning the controversial passages in the Zohar (or to be more precise, Tikkunei Zohar) were Bernfeld and Zinberg. See Heinrich Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, 7, Beilage 12; Shim‘on Bernfeld, Da‘at Elohim, Part 1 (Warsaw, 1897), pp. 396-397, note 1; Israel Zinberg, A History of Jewish Literature, vol. 3, transl. Bernard Martin (Cleveland: The Press of Case Western Reserve University, 1973), pp. 55-56.

[6] Scholem and Idel would date Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna as early as the end of the thirteenth century (bringing the work in contact with Rabbi Moses de Leon). See Idel’s introduction to The Hebrew Writings of the Author of Tiqqunei Zohar and Ra‘aya Mehemna, pp. 10, 25-26, 29. Tishby established the years 1312-1313 as the terminus ad quem for the composition of Tikkunei Zohar based on its Messianic expectations for those years. Cited in Idel, ibid. p. 10, n. 7. See also p. 23. Idel, relying on Liebes, would make the terminus ad quem a year earlier, 1311. (Ibid.)

[7] See Zohar I, 27a:

They embittered their lives with hard labor (‘avodah kashah)—with kushya (difficulty);

with mortar (homer)—with kal ve-homer (a fortiori);

and with bricks (levenim)—with libun hilkheta (clarification of the law);

and with all [manner of] labor in the field—this is Beraita;

all their labor—this is Mishnah.

Though mistakenly embedded by the Italian printers back in 1558 in the text of the Zohar, this is actually a segment from the later work Tikkunei Zohar. See above note 2.

This same anachronistic interpretation of the verse in Exodus 1:14 is found (with slight variations) in the Ra‘ya Mehemna, again embedded in Zohar III, 153a, 229b (though in this case explicitly identified as Ra‘ya Mehemna). See also Tikkunei Zohar, tikkun 21 (Margaliyot ed. 44a); the additional Tikkunim appended to Tikkunei Zohar, tikkun 9 (147a); and the Tikkunim appended to Zohar Hadash (Margaliyot ed.), 97d (where the end of the verse is interpreted, “be-pharekh—da pirkha”), 98b, 99b.

And see now, The Hebrew Writings of the Author of Tiqqunei Zohar and Ra‘aya Mehemna (Hebrew), ed. Efraim Gottlieb and Moshe Idel (Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 2003), pp. 39-40.

This degradation of Talmudic hermeneutic was duly noted by Rabbi Kafah (see above note 2). Kafah believed that the not so hidden agenda of the anonymous writer was to promote the study of Kabbalah at the expense of the study of Talmud. See ‘Amal u-Re‘ut Ru’ah va-Haramot u-Teshuvatam, p. 12: “The entire purpose of the author of the Zohar is to cause the Mishnah and the Talmud to be forgotten from Israel, to stop up the mouth of the well of living waters from which flow the ways of the Oral Law, and have them occupy themselves with his new Torah.”

[8] The primary meaning of the Hebrew word shitah is a line; hence, a line of thought. For its derivative usage in medieval rabbinical literature, see Mordechai Breuer, ’Ohalei Torah (Jerusalem: Shazar Center, 2004), pp. 109, 510; Ya‘akov Spiegel, ‘Ammudim be-Toledot ha-Sefer ha-‘Ivri, vol. 2 (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan, 2005), p. 442; and lately, Hayyim Eliezer Ashkenazi, “Heker ve-‘Iyun be-Sifrei Rishonim (4),” Yeshurun, vol. 40 (Nisan 5779), p. 930, n. 7.

In the London Beth Din Ms. 40 (designated in the microfilm collection of the National Library of Israel, F4708), f.30, this word reads “mishnayot,” rather than shitot, but the reading is unlikely, to say the least. Cf. below n. 11.

[9] Maimonides, MT, Hil. Sukkah 4:1.

[10] The three opinions are found in b. Sukkah 2a.

[11] In the London Beth Din ms. for “shitot” there occurs the grotesquerie “shtuyot” (foolishness).

[12] The London Beth Din ms. has the superior reading “eino reshut o makom patur.”

[13] Joseph ben Abba Mari ibn Kaspi, Sefer ha-Mussar/Yoreh De‘ah, chap. 15.

Ibn Kaspi’s Sefer ha-Mussar was published in a couple of collections: Eliezer Ashkenazi of Tunis’ Ta‘am Zekenim (Frankfurt am Main, 1854); and Isaac Last’s ‘Asarah Klei Kesef (Pressburg, 1903). Our particular chapter (15) appeared earlier in the introduction to Ibn Kaspi’s ‘Ammudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef, ed. Salomo Werbluner (Frankfurt am Main, 1848), p. xv. In Ta‘am Zekenim our quote appears on 53a; in ‘Asarah Klei Kesef on p. 70.

Sefer ha-Mussar was written for Ibn Kaspi’s twelve year old son Shelomo residing in Tarascon (Provence). According to the colophon, it was completed in 1332 in Valencia (Catalonia).

[14] Moshe Kahan is of the opinion that Joseph himself was born in Arles, and that it was his ancestors who hailed from Argentière (hence the Hebrew surname Kaspi). See M. Kahan, “Joseph ibn Kaspi—From Arles to Majorca,” Iberia Judaica VIII (2016), pp. 181-192.

[15] Kahan dates the journey between the years 1313-1315, and writes that Ibn Kaspi stayed in Egypt for about five months. Op. cit. p. 182.

In Mishneh Kesef I, ed. Isaac Last (Pressburg, 1905; photo offset Jerusalem, 1970), chap. 14 (pp. 18-19), Ibn Kaspi writes that about two years ago, at approximately age thirty-five, he went down to Egypt. The colophon of the book (p. 168) is datelined Arles, 1317, which would mean that the Egyptian expedition took place about the year 1315.

In Sefer ha-Mussar, which according to the colophon was completed in Valencia in 1332, we receive a slightly different picture. In the introduction, Ibn Kaspi writes that twenty years previous he wandered to Egypt; the total trip, from beginning to end, lasted five months. If we take him at his word, the trip to Egypt was in 1312. What is clear is that the actual sojourn in Egypt was less than five months.

[16] Introduction to Sefer ha-Mussar. In chap. 15, Ibn Kaspi spells out his fascination with Fez: “The Jews find repulsive and abandon today the Guide…the Christians respect and exalt it, and have translated it [to Latin]. All the more so the Ishmaelites; in Fez [italics mine—BN] and other lands, they established study-houses to learn the Guide from the mouth of Jewish scribes.”

[17] See Israel Ta-Shma, Rabbi Zerahyah Halevi (Ba‘al ha-Ma’or) u-B’nei Hugo (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1992), pp. 2, 16; Hayyim Eliezer Ashkenazi, “Heker ve-‘Iyun be-Sifrei Rishonim (4),” p. 933, n. 17.

[18] Though scholars assume a Castilian—rather than a Catalonian—provenance for Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna, I do not see that as a major obstacle. Surely, the main flow of traffic was between Provence in the south of France and Catalonia in the north of Spain, but for Jews, Sefarad was an overarching unity, no matter the local potentates into which it was fragmented. Thus, in 1305, the Rabbi of Barcelona, Catalonia, Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham ibn Adret (Rashba) was able to place a newly arrived German émigré, Rabbi Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh) in the rabbinate of Toledo, Castile. (See Avraham Hayyim Freimann, Ha-Rosh ve-Tse’etsa’av, trans. Menahem Eldar [Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1986], pp. 28-29.)

Sometimes, within a single family one finds both strands of Kabbalah, Castilian and Catalonian. Isaac ibn Sahula, native of Guadalajara, Castile, author of the bestiary Meshal ha-Kadmoni (1281), as well as a kabbalistic commentary to Song of Songs, was a disciple of Rabbi Moses of Burgos, as well as an assumed associate of Rabbi Moses de Leon. (The first reference to the Midrash ha-Ne‘elam, an early stratum of the Zoharic literature, is found in Ibn Sahula’s Meshal ha-Kadmoni.) His brother, Meir ibn Sahula, on the other hand, prided himself on his Catalonian and Provencal pedigree, being a disciple of “Rabbi Joshua ibn Shu‘aib and of Rabbi Solomon ben Abraham ibn Adret (Rashba), who received from Nahmanides, who in turn received from Rabbi Isaac the Blind, son of Rabad of Posquières, who in turn received from Elijah the Prophet.” So writes Meir ibn Sahula at the conclusion to his commentary on the Bahir, “’Or ha-Ganuz.”

(Yehuda Liebes speculated that the especially acerb remarks that precede this peroration are directed against recent developments in Castilian Kabbalah, namely the Zohar. See Y. Liebes, Studies in the Zohar [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993], pp. 168-169, n. 50. However, in all fairness, the description of those “who expound books and books of the nations, and transcribe therein their gods, and call them ‘Secrets of the Torah’ [Sitrei Torah],” sounds more like an attack on Maimonides and his followers who construe Aristotelian philosophy as Sitrei Torah, than an assault upon the Zohar. At the end of his lengthy footnote, Liebes conceded this distinct possibility.)

Thus, the division of Spanish Kabbalah into discrete units of Castilian versus Catalonian traditions need not prejudice us against the possibility of penetrations and influences that defy this dyadic model. One needs to complexify the general picture of Spanish Kabbalah in order to appreciate the multiplicity of forces at work. Binaries are helpful as historic guidelines but they can never do justice to the complexity of lived reality.

[19] Tishby collected some of these Tibbonide neologisms, starting with “nefesh ha-sikhlit” or “intellectual soul” (Ra‘ya Mehemna in Zohar III, 29b). See Isaiah Tishby, Mishnat ha-Zohar, vol. 1, 2^nd printing with corrections (Jerusalem: Mossad Bialik, 1949), pp. 77-78.

One can well appreciate how the Chief Rabbi of Sana‘a, Yemen, Yahya ben Shelomo Kafah, a most outspoken opponent of the Zohar, typified its author as “the philosopher, author of the Zohar” (“ha-philosoph mehabber ha-Zohar”). See his ‘Amal u-Re‘ut Ru’ah va-Haramot u-Teshuvatam, pp. 12-16.

Besides the obvious use of Maimonidean terminology, there is the subtle copying of categories. An example would be the way in which the author of Tikkunei Zohar patterned his “hamesh minim” (“five species” or “five sects”) of the ‘Erev Rav (Mixed Multitude) after Maimonides’ “hamishah minim” (“five sectarians”). The passage from Tikkunei Zohar was incorporated by the printers in Zohar I, 25a. (The note in Derekh Emet alerts the reader that the material correlates to Tikkunei Zohar, tikkun 50. In the new Pritzker edition of the Zohar, the passage from Tikkunei Zohar has been removed.) Maimonides’ “hamishah minim” are found in MT, Hil. Teshuvah 3:7. This is just a random sample of the pervasive influence of Maimonides on the author of Tikkunei Zohar and Ra‘ya Mehemna.

Cf. the direct quote from Maimonides, Hil. Teshuvah 3:6 in Isaac ibn Sahula’s Meshal ha-Kadmoni (Venice, 1546), Sha‘ar ha-Rishon (10a), s.v. va-yo’el ha-tsevi le-va’er. And see now Sarah Offenberg, “On Heresy and Polemics in Two Proverbs in Meshal Haqadmoni” (Hebrew), Jewish Thought 1 (2019), pp. 64-65. Recently, Hartley Lachter has attempted to demonstrate that the general tenor of Meshal ha-Kadmoni is esoteric; see H. Lachter, “Spreading Secrets: Kabbalah and Esotericism in Isaac ibn Sahula’s Meshal ha-Kadmoni,” Jewish Quarterly Review, Vol. 100, No. 1 (Winter 2010), pp. 111-138.

[20] It should be noted, for whatever it is worth, that Pinhas ben Meshullam was a Provencal rabbi who took up the post of Dayyan of Alexandria, Egypt. It would be pure conjecture on my part to posit that his critique of Maimonides reflected the way in which Mishneh Torah had been received in Provence. It is equally possible that Pinhas’ critique was not based on actual observation of the Provencal reception of Mishneh Torah.

[21] See Igrot ha-Rambam, ed. Yitzhak Shilat, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 1988), pp. 438-439; quoted in Bezalel Naor, The Limit of Intellectual Freedom: The Letters of Rav Kook (Spring Valley, NY: Orot, 2011), pp. 297-298.

[22] The term “hivemind” referred originally to the coordinated behavior of a colony of insects (bees or ants) which to an outside observer, appears the workings of a single mind. In the age of the Internet, it refers to the collectivity of the users who function as a single mind in expressing their thoughts and opinions. This is, in effect, what Maimonides created in Mishneh Torah. As he stated it so eloquently in the introduction to that work:

I…intently studied all these works, with the view of putting together the results obtained from them in regard to what is forbidden or permitted, clean or unclean, and the other rules of the Torah—all in plain language and terse style, so that thus the entire Oral Law might become systematically known to all, without citing difficulties and solutions or differences of view, one person saying so, and another something else [italics mine—BN]—but consisting of statements, clear and convincing, and in accordance with the conclusions drawn from all these compilations and commentaries that have appeared from the time of Rabbenu ha-Kadosh [i.e. Rabbi Judah the Prince] to the present, so that all the rules shall be accessible to young and old, whether these appertain to the (Pentateuchal) precepts or to the institutions established by the sages and prophets, so that no other work should be needed for ascertaining any of the laws of Israel, but that this work might serve as a compendium of the entire Oral Law…

(Moses Hyamson translation with correction)

[23] See A.H. Freimann, Ha-Rosh ve-Tse’etsa’av, chap. 4 (pp. 32-41).

[24] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rosh 31:9; quoted in Bezalel Naor, The Limit of Intellectual Freedom, pp. 300-301.

[25] Translation of Moses Hyamson with slight alterations.

[26] b. Kiddushin 30a. See Tosafot there s.v. lo tserikha le-yomei.

[27] MT, Hil. Talmud Torah 1:11.

[28] Ibid. 1:12.

[29] In Sefer ha-Mussar, chap. 10, Ibn Kaspi lays out a study plan for his twelve year old son, Shelomo. He advises Shelomo to spend the next two years studying Bible and Talmud. From fourteen to sixteen, he should turn his attention to ethics: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Avot with the commentary and introduction of Maimonides, Hilkhot De‘ot of Sefer ha-Madda‘, as well as Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. Starting at age sixteen, for the next two years, he should tackle the Halakhic codes of Alfasi, Rabbi Moses of Coucy [i.e. Sefer Mitsvot Gadol or SeMaG] and Maimonides, and pursue the study of logic. At age eighteen, he would be well advised to study natural science for two years. Finally, at age twenty, Shelomo should commence studying Aristotle’s Metaphysics and Maimonides’ Guide. (He is also advised to take a wife at that time.)

[30] See Maimonides’ famous parable of the King’s palace in Guide of the Perplexed III, 51.

The Religious-Zionist Manifesto of Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya

by Bezalel Naor

In 1901 there appeared in Vilna a 32-page booklet entitled, Ha-Tsiyoniyut mi-nekudat hashkafat ha-dat (Zionism from the Viewpoint of Religion). The author was Yehudah Don Yahya.[1] The final eight pages of the work contain a supplement (Milu’im) by one Ben-Zion Vilner, criticizing the anti-Zionism of the Rebbe of Lubavitch. (One ventures that “Ben-Zion Vilner” is a pseudonym.)

What is remarkable about this manifesto that argues that Zionism is totally compatible with traditional Judaism, is that the author, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya, was an intimate student of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik, a most outspoken opponent of the Zionist movement.[2]

To add to the intrigue, Don Yahya’s grandfather, Rabbi Shabtai Don Yahya of Drissa, had been an ardent Hasid of Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Lubavitch (known by his work of Halakhic responsa as “Tsemah Tsedek”).[3] Yehudah Leib himself would go on to serve as rabbi of the Habad Hasidic community of Shklov.[4] Although, as we shall see, within the Habad community, there were differing responses to Zionism along the fault line of the Kopyst—Lubavitch dispute.

Today, students who immerse themselves in the Torah novellae of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik may come across the name of Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya, but they have no idea who this disciple was. Appended to Hiddushei ha-GRaH he-Hadash ‘al ha-Shas (issued upon the ninetieth anniversary of Rabbi Hayyim’s passing in 2008) are Don Yahya’s memoirs of his beloved mentor in the Volozhin Yeshivah. In 2018 (coincidentally a century since Rabbi Hayyim’s passing) there appeared in print a Tagbuch or diary, in which Rabbi Hayyim jotted down his insights on Talmud and Maimonides’ code.[5] In his introduction to the volume, the editor, Rabbi Yitshak Abba Lichtenstein, notes that Rabbi Hayyim would allow some scholars to copy down entries from the journal. Indeed, one such scholar was Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya. Two novellae that appear in the Tagbuch were previously published in Don Yahya’s Bikkurei Yehudah (1939).[6]

One asks: What would prompt such a devoted disciple to break from his master’s ideology concerning Zionism?

To understand how such a phenomenon as Yehudah Leib Don Yahya was possible, one needs to trace his membership in Nes Ziyonah, the underground proto-Zionist movement that existed in the Volozhin Yeshivah from 1885 until its disbandment in 1890.let

This was the era of Hovevei Zion (Lovers of Zion), a Russian Jewish movement to settle the Land of Israel that predated Herzlian political Zionism. Nes Ziyonah, which blossomed independently within the ranks of the student body of the famed Volozhin Yeshivah, interfaced with Hovevei Zion, presided over by Rabbi Samuel Mohilever of Bialystok. Members of Nes Ziyonah were sworn to secrecy. The membership included such illustrious scholars as Moshe Mordechai Epstein of Bakst,[7] Menahem Krakovsky,[8] and Isser Zalman Meltzer. Moshe Mordechai Epstein would eventually become Rosh Yeshivah of Slabodka. Menahem Krakowsky would one day assume the position of “Shtodt Maggid” of Vilna. Finally, Isser Zalman Meltzer would become Rosh Yeshivah of Slutzk and later ‘Ets Hayyim of Jerusalem.[9]  It was through the last-mentioned disciple, who was especially close to Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik, that Rabbi Hayyim was able to discover the identities of the students who belonged to Nes Ziyonah.[10]

Nes Ziyonah had sprung up without the knowledge of the elder dean of the Yeshivah, Rabbi Naftali Tsevi Yehudah Berlin (NeTsIV). In fact, according to Israel Kausner, who wrote a history of Nes Ziyonah, the members of the secret society prided themselves that they had been able to prevail upon Rabbi Berlin to join the greater Hovevei Zion movement and to assume a role of leadership alongside Rabbis Samuel Mohilever and Mordechai Eliasberg of Bausk.[11] In 1890, somehow Nes Ziyonah came to the attention of the Russian government authorities. One of its leaders (Yosef Rothstein) was arrested but subsequently released. When Rabbi Berlin learned that such a society had sprung up in the Yeshivah under his very nose, he was aghast. He feared that Nes Ziyonah might jeopardize the existence of the Yeshivah, which was under constant government scrutiny.[12] Leaving aside pragmatic considerations, in principle, Volozhin had always been a bastion of pure Torah learning; there was no room in it for Zionist activism.[13] Nes Ziyonah ceased to exist. (Hovevei Zion, with its office in Odessa, was legalized by the Tsarist government in 1890.)[14]

The idealistic young men who had formed Nes Ziyonah were not ones to easily give up. Nes Ziyonah morphed into Netsah Yisrael, whose express goal was to advocate on behalf of Zionism and religion. (Nes Ziyonah had restricted its activities to settling the Land of Israel.) Most prominent in this reincarnation of Netsah Yisrael was—Yehudah Leib Don Yahya.[15]

It is against this backdrop—the publicistic activity of Netsah Yisrael—that one must view Don Yahya’s tract, Zionism from the Viewpoint of Religion.

Let us briefly sum up some of the more salient points of the booklet.

Don Yahya begins by clarifying that the return of the nation to its land can in no way be viewed as the complete redemption prophesied in Scripture. The prophets’ vision, while including the ingathering of exiles, extends beyond that to global mankind’s acknowledging God and embracing His Torah.[16]

On the other hand, Don Yahya is flummoxed by various rabbis who adopt an all-or-nothing attitude to the Zionist organization’s striving to secure from the Ottomans a safe haven for Jews in the Holy Land. Just because the Zionist dream does not encompass the comprehensive vision of our prophets of old, is no reason to reject Zionism. Granted that the Zionist goals are much more modest in scope; that still does not justify opposing the movement. Don Yahya’s own reading of the sources—Biblical and Rabbinic—is gradualist. He anticipates a phased redemption. The Jews’ return to the Land is certainly the beginning, the first installment in a protracted process which will eventually—upon completion of “the full and encompassing redemption” (“ha-ge’ulah ha-sheleimah ve-ha-kelalit”)—culminate in the restoration of the Davidic dynasty in the person of King Messiah and the rebuilding of the Temple.[17]

The author adopts as his paradigm the Second Temple period. Taking issue with those who construe the return from Babylonian captivity as a “temporary remembrance” (“pekidah li-zeman mugbal”), Don Yahya maintains that the Second Commonwealth had the potential to develop into full-blown redemption. With that model in mind, he writes that return from exile and settling the Land can evolve beyond that to greater spiritual dimensions.[18]

After having made his case for the compatibility of the nascent Zionist movement and Judaism, Don Yahya tackles the painful question why some of the great Torah geniuses oppose Zionism.[19]

Don Yahya has a couple of explanations. First, knowledge of Torah is divided into Halakhah and pilpul, on the one hand, and matters of belief and opinion, on the other. Contemporary ge’onim (unlike their medieval predecessors Maimonides and Nahmanides) have devoted their lives to Halakhah, to the exclusion of emunot ve-de‘ot (beliefs and opinions). “In regard to the portion of Torah which is beliefs and opinions, their view does not exceed the view of an average Jew.”[20]

Rather conveniently, Don Yahya holds up as examples of recent Torah authorities who plumbed the depths of the beliefs contained in the Aggadah, and who concluded that the redemption shall begin with the Jews receiving permission to settle the Land of Israel—Rabbis Naftali Tsevi Yehudah Berlin and Mordechai Eliasberg—two rabbis who stood at the helm of Hovevei Zion.[21]

A second reason for the opposition of some ge’onim to Zionism is that they have been fed misinformation (or disinformation) by those of lesser stature who surround them. As the great men eschew reading newspapers, they must rely for information on extremists (kana’im) who skew their perception. They are told that the leaders of the Zionist movement are men who are not simply unobservant in their private lives, but furthermore, intent on uprooting Judaism.[22]

According to Don Yahya, the Zionist leaders profess no proficiency in matters of religion and are amenable to working with the great rabbis in matters pertaining to religion. He cites the example of a responsum from one of the great halakhic decisors of the generation to accommodate the Colonial Bank so that the prohibition of charging interest (ribit) be not transgressed. Don Yahya personally witnessed both the question from Zionist officialdom and the responsum issued by the elderly ga’on.[23] (Undoubtedly, “the elderly ga’on” [“ha-ga’on ha-yashish”] was Don Yahya’s own father-in-law, Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen, the dayyan or chief justice of Vilna.)[24]

Don Yahya points out the democratic character of the Zionist congresses. If more religious Jews would join the ranks of the Zionist movement, they would be able to turn the tide and steer the movement in a more religious direction.[25]

The author chides those religious elements opposed to Zionism not to gloat and say, “We told you so.” In the event that Zionism deviates from Judaism, this will be a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom; the anti-Zionist agitators will then be held responsible for bringing about that outcome by instructing observant Jews to stay clear of the movement.[26]

II.

As stated above, the Milu’im or Excursus of the pamphlet is a harshly worded rejoinder to the Rebbe of Lubavitch, Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer Schneersohn (1860-1920), who had made public his vehement opposition to Zionism on religious grounds.[27]

Again, one asks: How is possible that a staunch Habad Hasid such as Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya appended such an excursus to his work? From a remove of more than a century this seems inconceivable.

We need once more to place this pamphlet within the context of the times. Today, Habad has assumed a monolithic character, but at the turn of the twentieth century there existed a great divide between two competing “courts” within Habad Hasidism: Kopyst and Lubavitch. When Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneersohn of Lubavitch (author of the responsa Tsemah Tsedek) passed in 1866, a dispute erupted over succession to the throne. The youngest son, Shmuel (Maharash), remained in Lubavitch and inherited control of that city. An older son, Yehudah Leib (Maharil), moved to the city of Kopyst, taking some of the Hasidim with him.[28] When within a year of the Tsemah Tsedek’s passing, Yehudah Leib passed, his son Shelomo Zalman (author of the Hasidic work Magen Avot) became the Kopyster Rebbe. And when in 1900 the Kopyster Rebbe passed, he was succeeded by his younger brother Rabbi Shemaryah Noah Schneerson (author of the Hasidic work Shemen la-Ma’or). Though there was a brief attempt on the part of Rabbi Shemaryah Noah Schneerson to establish himself in the city of Kopyst, eventually he returned to his rabbinate in Bobroisk, which then became the center of this branch of Habad Hasidism.[29] With the passing of the Rebbe of Bobroisk in 1923, this branch ceased to exist, leaving only the Lubavitch faction. At that point, remnants of the Bobroisker Hasidim transferred their allegiance to the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

In the early years of the twentieth century there erupted a major financial dispute between Bobroisk and Lubavitch regarding control of the purse strings of Kollel Habad in Erets Yisrael. (One may find evidence of the dispute in letters of Rav Kook from this period, when as Rabbi of Jaffa he offered guidance how to come to a compromise.)[30] The tension arose because each Rebbe wanted his representative in Erets Yisrael to be responsible for disbursement of the funds raised by the Hasidim in Russia for the support of their brethren in the Holy Land.

Thus, there are historians who would explain the tension between Bobroisk and Lubavitch as being purely financial.[31] Truth be known, there were ideological issues dividing the two cousins, Rabbi Shemariah Noah of Bobroisk and Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer of Lubavitch. In general, it may be said that the Bobroisker was more progressive, more forward-looking. The Lubavitcher was more old-school, more conservative in outlook. These different Weltanschauungen found expression on many fronts.

When the Russian government sought to demand of the rabbis proficiency in the Russian language, the Bobroisker (as Rabbi Meir Simhah Cohen of Dvinsk) found this a reasonable demand; the Lubavitcher (as Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik of Brisk and Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan [a.k.a. Hafets Hayyim]) fought against this proposal tooth and nail.[32]

When it came to deciding which city should serve as the center of Habad Hasidism in Erets Yisrael—Hebron or Jerusalem—Rabbi Shalom Dov Baer militated to retain the center in the provincial town of Hebron rather than allow the center to shift to Jerusalem.[33] In this way, the Lubavitcher Rebbe believed he could shield the Hasidim from the distractions of urban civilization. The Bobroisker did not think it realistic to keep the Hasidim “down on the farm.” Willy-nilly, establishment of a lending library in Hebron would bring secular literature to the curious eyes of Hasidic youth.[34]

And finally, we arrive at the issue with which we began: Zionism. While Lubavitch would have no truck with Zionism, out of the “Kibbutz” (study-hall for advanced rabbinic students) of Bobroisk there would emerge prominent rabbis of the Mizrahi or Religious Zionist movement.[35]

The answer to the question how Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya, a fervent Habad Hasid, could oppose the Rebbe of Lubavitch is simple: Don Yahya was a Kopyster Hasid,[36] not a Lubavitcher Hasid.

Epitaph on Tombstone of Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya in Ludza (Lutzin)

צנא מלא ספרא

כלו ספרא מבעל —-

מגזע רבני —-

מחבר אבן שתיה

הרב הגאון ר’ אליעזר

בהרב ר’ שבתי

דון יחייא

ויאסף אל עמיו

ד’ ימים לחדש תמוז

שנת תרפו

[1] Yehudah Leib Don Yahya was born in Drissa (today Verkhnyadzvinsk, Belarus) in 1869 and passed in Tel-Aviv in 1941. Besides this Zionist manifesto, Rabbi Don Yahya published two volumes of Halakha and essays and sermons: Bikkurei Yehudah, vol. 1 (Lutzin, 1930); vol. 2 (Tel-Aviv, 1939).

Volume One of Bikkurei Yehudah was published in Lutzin (Ludza) by the author’s cousin, Rabbi Benzion Don Yahya, Rabbi of Lutzin. At that time Rabbi Yehudah Leib served as Rabbi of Chernigov, Soviet Russia. In his preface to the work, Benzion Don Yahya explains that the manuscript was sent to him for publication because there is no longer a Hebrew press in Russia. On pages 36-38, the Editor traces the lineage of the Don Yahya family. We learn that his paternal grandfather was Rabbi Shabtai Don Yahya, Rabbi of Drissa for sixty years until his death at approximately age 90 in 1907. One of Rabbi Shabtai’s sons, Rabbi Eliezer, became Rabbi of Lutzin (Ludza), a rabbinate inherited by his son, the Editor (Rabbi Benzion). In 1840, there were born to Rabbi Shabtai twins: Menahem Mendel and Hayyim. Menahem Mendel served as Rabbi of Kopyst for some years, passing there in 1920. Hayyim served as Rabbi of Shklov, and after his father Shabtai’s passing, as Rabbi of Drissa, until his own passing in 1913. Hayyim’s son, Yehudah Leib, served as Rabbi in Shklov and Vietka, until he inherited from his father the Rabbinate of Drissa in 1913. (In Bikkurei Yehudah, vol. 2, f. 159, there is a letter dated 5673 [i.e. 1913] from Rabbi Meir Simhah of Dvinsk to Rabbi Don Yahya congratulating him on assuming the rabbinate of his father and grandfather in Drissa.) In 1925, Yehudah Leib was accepted as Rabbi of Chernigov.

In Shklov, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya ministered to the “Kehal Hasidim” (exclusive of the Mitnagdim, who would have had their own Rav). (See below note 4.) However, it should be mentioned that the communities of Vietka and Chernigov as well figure prominently in the annals of Habad Hasidism.

The Rabbi of Vietka, Rabbi Dov Baer Lifshitz, author of an important commentary on Tractate Mikva’ot, Golot ‘Iliyot (Warsaw, 1887), refers to Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi as “dodi zekeini” (“my great uncle”). See ibid., Addendum to Introduction, and 7c.

The man who immediately preceded Rabbi Don Yahya as Rabbi of Chernigov, Rabbi David Tsevi (Hirsch) Hen (referred to by the Hasidim as “RaDaTs”) was acknowledged as one of the greatest of Habad Halakhists in his day. In 1925, through the intervention of Chief Rabbi Kook, he was able to emigrate from the Soviet Union to Erets Yisrael together with his daughter Rahel, son-in-law Rabbi Shalom Shelomo Schneerson (brother of Rabbi Levi Isaac Schneerson, Rabbi of Yekaterinaslav, today Dnieperpetrovsk, and uncle of Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneerson, Lubavitcher Rebbe of Brooklyn), and granddaughter Zelda, who would later achieve fame as a Hebrew poet. See Igrot Re’iyah, vol. 4 (Jerusalem, 1984), Letter 1330 (p. 251), in which Rav Kook attempts to install the recently arrived Rabbi S.S. Schneerson as Rav of Haderah. Rav Kook’s involvement in bringing RaDaTs and family to Erets Israel is discussed in the recently published annals of the Hen Family, Avnei Hen, ed. Eliezer Laine and S.Z. Berger (Brooklyn, NY: Kehot, 2015).

Reviewing the second volume of Bikkurei Yehudah, Rabbi Zevin wrote an especially insightful appreciation of Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya. Rabbi Zevin, himself a Habad Hasid, noted how rare it was to find in the twentieth century a Habad Hasid who combined both persona of the maskil (intellectual) and the ‘oved (master of contemplative prayer). (In the latter connection, Rabbi Zevin observed that Rabbi Don Yahya wore daily three pairs of tefillin: Rashi, Rabbenu Tam, and Shimusha Rabbah.) Beyond Habad Hasidism, Don Yahya mastered Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik’s method of Talmudic analysis and the process of pesikah (Halakhic decision) of Don Yahya’s father-in-law, Rabbi Shleimeleh Hakohen, the Dayyan of Vilna. See Rabbi Shelomo Yosef Zevin, Soferim u-Sefarim (Tel-Aviv: Abraham Ziyoni, 1959), pp. 296-300.

It is noteworthy that the volume contains a responsum to Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Kroll, the Rav of Kefar Hasidim in Erets Yisrael, and a Halakhic novella of Rabbi Kroll. See Bikkurei Yehudah, vol. 2, ff. 121-129, 160-162. Rabbi Kroll was the eminent disciple of Rabbi Don Yahya.

[2] Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik’s opposition to Zionism is well known. One particular statement should illustrate how extreme was Rabbi Hayyim’s opposition to the new movement. The following incident took place in Minsk in 1915 (when many Jews were forced to flee their homes before the German invasion and seek refuge in the large city located farther east).

Young Raphael Zalman Levine was walking down the street with his father, Rabbi Abraham Dov Baer Levine (known as the “Mal’akh,” the “Angel”). Pinned to the adolescent’s lapel was an insignia of the Keren Kayemet le-Yisrael (Jewish National Fund), to which he had recently donated. The elder Levine was adamantly opposed to the Zionist enterprise and demanded that his son remove the pin, which he found offensive. Father and son were in the midst of an intense argument when, lo and behold, they saw approaching them from the opposite direction none other than the great Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik.

Rabbi Levine said to Rabbi Soloveitchik: “My son wants to ask you a she’elah (question).”

Rabbi Soloveitchik turned to Raphael Zalman: “You can ask your father.” (Rabbi Levine and Rabbi Soloveitchik were friends.)

Rabbi Levine persisted: “My son wants to ask you a she’elah in emunah (a matter of faith).”

“Emunah?” Rabbi Soloveitchik’s face now assumed a serious expression.

Young Raphael Zalman was put on the spot and forced to ask Rabbi Hayyim what he thought of his donation to the Jewish National Fund.

It just so happened that across the street was a church.

Rabbi Hayyim responded to his young questioner: “If you have a few spare kopecks in your pocket, you can place them there rather than in the pushke of the Keren Kayemes.”

(Reported by RYYL and by Prof. Richard Sugarman who both heard this anecdote from the mouth of Rabbi Raphael Zalman Levine of Albany, New York, on two separate occasions.)

The episode is also reported in Rabbi Raphael Zalman Levine’s name in Rabbi C.S. Glickman, Mi-Pihem u-mi-Pi Ketavam (Brooklyn, NY, 2008), pp. 119-120.

Though the sharpness of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik’s statement is shocking, Halakhic opposition to donating to the Zionist cause was shared by several East European rabbinic leaders. A decade later in 1925, four distinguished leaders of Polish Jewry, the Hasidic Rebbes of Gur, Ostrovtsa, Radzyn, and Novominsk, addressed a letter to Rav Kook adjuring him to curtail his support of Keren Kayemet le-Yisrael and Keren ha-Yesod. See Igrot la-Rayah, ed. B.Z. Shapiro (Jerusalem, 1990), Letter 199 (pp. 303-304); facsimile on p. 590.

Rav Kook, unlike the Polish Rebbes, differentiated between the two funds, lending his support to Keren Kayemet le-Yisrael, which directed funds to the physical reclamation of the land, but not to Keren ha-Yesod, which funded secular (and perhaps anti-religious) culture. See Rabbi Tsevi Yehudah Hakohen Kook, Li-Sheloshah be-Ellul, vol. 1 (1938), par. 44 (p. 22); Igrot ha-Rayah, vol. 5: 5682, ed. Ze’ev Neuman (Jerusalem, 2019), pp. 407-413.

[3] According to his namesake and great-grandson, journalist Shabtai Don Yahya (who wrote under the pen name of “Sh. Daniel”), the Rabbi of Drissa was known in Lubavitch as “Reb Shebsel Drisser.” Sh. Don Yahya wrote that it was said that the Rabbi of Drissa might have become one of the great men of the generation in terms of Talmudic learning, but his Hasidic exuberance stunted his academic growth. See Shabtai Don Yahya, Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya (Jerusalem, 1932), pp. 10-11.

(The title-page makes the point that the book bears the encomium of Chief Rabbi Kook. Shabtai Don Yahya was one of the first students of Merkaz Harav and a devoted disciple of Rav Kook. Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya is a biography of the author’s paternal grandfather, the Rabbi of Lutzin, son of Rabbi Shabtai Don Yahya. As a youth, Avraham Yitshak Hakohen Kook studied under Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya in Lutzin. Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya was born 4 Tammuz 5598 [i.e. 1838] and passed on his birthday, 4 Tammuz 5686 [i.e. 1926]. See the epitaph on his tombstone at the conclusion of this article. A photograph of the funeral of Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya in Lutzin in 1926 may be found in Rabbi Yitzhak Zilber’s autobiography, To Remain a Jew. Zilber’s original surname was “Ziyoni.” Rabbi Eliezer Don Yahya inherited the rabbinate of Lutzin from his illustrious father-in-law Rabbi Aharon Zelig Ziyoni.)

Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya often quotes the Tsemah Tsedek in his Halakhic responsa.

[4] In the biography of Rabbi Yehudah Leib Don Yahya in Shmuel Noah Gottlieb’s Ohalei Shem (Pinsk, 1912), p. 207, s.v. Shklov, it states that Don Yahya assumed the rabbinate of Shklov in 1906. However, as early as Friday, 17 Menahem Av [5]664,” i.e. 1904, Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen addressed his son-in-law as “Rav Av-Beit-Din of the congregation of Hasidim of Shklov.” See Bikkurei Yehudah, vol. 2 (Tel-Aviv, 1939), 145a.

In Shklover Yidden (1929) and Feter Zhoma (1930), the Yiddish and Hebrew poet and writer Zalman Shneur portrayed the Hasidim of his birthplace.

Earlier, Rabbi Yehudah Leib’s father, Rabbi Hayyim Don Yahya, had served as Rabbi of Shklov. A halakhic responsum of Rabbi Hayyim Don Yahya (datelined “5653 [i.e. 1893], Shklov”) was published in the journal of the Skvere Kollel, Zera‘ Ya‘akov 26 (Shevat 5766 [i.e. 2006]), pp. 17-21. On p. 20, Rabbi Hayyim mentions the learned opinion of his brother from Kopyst [i.e. Rabbi Menahem Mendel Don Yahya].

[5] Rabbi Yitshak Lichtenstein writes in the introduction to the volume that there were many such Tagbikher that were lost to posterity. This particular journal was inherited by Rabbi Hayyim’s son, Rabbi Moshe Soloveitchik. (Behind the scenes, the Tagbuch was made available to Rabbi Lichtenstein by his maternal uncle, Prof. Haym Soloveitchik of Riverdale, son of Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik of Boston, son of Rabbi Moshe Soloveitchik.)

[6] See Bikkurei Yehudah, vol. 2 (Tel-Aviv, 1939), 142a-144b. The volume was edited by the author’s son-in-law Rabbi Yitshak Neiman. Rabbi Zevin explains that though the volume was submitted for publication in 1939, it was not issued until 1941, a few weeks before the author’s passing. See S.Y. Zevin, Soferim u-Sefarim (Tel-Aviv: Abraham Ziyoni, 1959), p. 297. The two novellae of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik (to Bava Kama 13a and Ketubot 21a) were reprinted in the memorial volume for Rabbi Neiman, Zikhron Yitshak (Jerusalem, 1999), along with several novellae of his father-in-law, Rabbi Don Yahya.

[7] See Israel Klausner, Toledot “Nes Ziyonah” be-Volozhin (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1954), pp. 25, 65, 113. Moshe Mordechai Epstein appears in a group photo on p. 26.

[8] Ibid. p. 24.

[9] Rabbis Epstein and Meltzer would eventually become brothers-in-law by their marriage to two sisters, daughters of the Maecenas Shraga Feivel Frank of Kovno.

[10] Heard from Rabbi Yosef Soloveichik of Jerusalem (son of Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik of Chicago), a great-grandson of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik. Rabbi Yosef Soloveichik explained the exact halakhic reasoning whereby his ancestor was able to release young Isser Zalman Meltzer from his solemn oath.

This Soloveichik family tradition, which reflects Rabbi Hayyim’s disapproval of Nes Ziyonah, seems to fly in the face of Yosef Rothstein’s memoir, whereby Rabbi Hayyim rejoiced at Rothstein’s release after he had been arrested by the Russian police:

Also the Gaon Rabbi Hayyim of Brisk, of blessed memory, greatly rejoiced over me. He received me with joy and brought me before the NeTsIV, of blessed memory, who was pleased by my return, though he did say to me that this is not the place [for activism]. “A mitsvah that can be performed by others, we do not cancel for it the study of Torah” [MT, Hil. Talmud Torah 3:4]…Evidently, the NeTsIV too was content but had to act as if he disapproved…

(Yosef Rothstein, in Israel Klausner, Toledot “Nes Ziyonah” be-Volozhin, p. 123)

See earlier on p. 13 the NeTsIV’s opposition to students taking time out from their Torah study for activism—even on behalf of a cause as dear to NeTsIV’s heart as Yishuv Erets Yisrael.

[11] Ibid. p. 14.

[12] Ibid. p. 19.

[13] See above note 10.

[14] Klausner, Toledot “Nes Ziyonah” be-Volozhin, p. 21.

[15] Ibid. pp. 22-24. The members of Netsah Yisrael were also sworn to secrecy. Netsah Yisrael lasted until the closing of the Volozhin Yeshivah by the Russian authorities in 1892.

[16] Ha-Tsiyoniyut mi-nekudat hashkafat ha-dat, pp. 5-6.

[17] Ibid. pp. 6-7.

[18] Ibid. pp. 7-10.

[19] Ibid. p. 15.

[20] Ibid.

[21] Ibid. p. 16.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Ibid. pp. 16-17. Don Yahya does not go into Halakhic details. Usually, the way to circumvent the problem of ribit (interest) is by drafting a “heter ‘iska.” Rabbi Tsevi Yehudah Hakohen Kook relates that when the Zionist Colonial Bank was founded, his father, Rabbi Avraham Yitshak Hakohen Kook, entered into negotiations with the Zionist officials and rabbis, which resulted in a “shtar heter ‘iska.” See Rabbi Tsevi Yehudah Hakohen Kook, Li-Sheloshah be-Ellul, vol. 1 (1938), par. 17 (pp. 11-12).

[24] The elderly Dayyan of Vilna, Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen (author of Heshek Shelomo) was exceptionally respectful of Theodor Herzl when the latter visited Vilna, extending to him the priestly benediction at a reception in Herzl’s honor. See Israel Cohen, History of Jews in Vilna (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1943), p. 350; and Israel Klausner, Vilna: “Jerusalem of Vilna,” 1881-1939, vol. 2 (Hebrew) (Israel: Ghetto Fighters’ House, 1983), p. 339.

Another son-in-law of Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen, Rabbi Nahum Greenhaus of Trok (Lithuanian, Trakai), a suburb of Vilna, was, like Don Yahya, an outspoken advocate of Zionism. Because of their support of the movement, both Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen and Rabbi Nahum Greenhaus suffered persecution by anti-Zionist elements in Lithuanian Jewry. See Klausner, ibid. pp. 330-333.

Rabbi Nahum Greenhaus’ namesake was Rabbi Nahum Partzovitz (known in his youth as “Nahum Troker”), who would one day become the illustrious Rosh Yeshivah of the Mirrer Yeshiva in Jerusalem. Rabbi Nahum Partzovitz’s father, Rabbi Aryeh Tsevi Partzovitz, inherited the rabbinate of Trok from his father-in-law, Rabbi Nahum Greenhaus.

A third son-in-law of Rabbi Shelomo Hakohen of Vilna was Rabbi Meir Karelitz, older brother of Rabbi Abraham Isaiah Karelitz (author of Hazon Ish), who was prominent in Agudah circles, both in Vilna and later in Erets Yisrael.

[25] Ha-Tsiyoniyut mi-nekudat hashkafat ha-dat, p. 17.

[26] Ibid.

This modern disagreement sounds vaguely reminiscent of the disagreement between Resh Lakish and Rabbi Yohanan in Talmud Bavli, Yoma 9b-10a. Resh Lakish said of Babylonian Jewry: “God hates you. If you had gone up to the Land of Israel en masse in the days of Ezra, the divine presence would have rested in the Second Temple and there would have been a resumption of full-blown prophecy. Now that you have gone up in pitifully small numbers (dalei dalot), but a remnant of prophecy remains, the bat kol (heavenly voice).” Rabbi Yohanan responded: “Even if all of Babylonian Jewry would have gone up to the Land in the days of Ezra, the divine presence would not have rested in the Second Temple, for it is written: ‘God will broaden Japheth and dwell in the tents of Shem’ [Genesis 9:27]. Though God will broaden Japheth, the divine presence rests only in the tents of Shem.” Rashi explains that the divine presence was prevented from resting in the Second Temple because it was built by the Persians; the divine presence rested only in the First Temple which was built by Solomon of the seed of Shem.

Evidently, Rabbi Don Yahya (like Resh Lakish) was convinced that that what was crucial to effecting a spiritual revolution in Erets Yisrael was a critical mass. His opponents (like Rabbi Yohanan) could not be swayed that it was merely a matter of numbers. To their thinking, non-Jewish influence at the very inception of the Zionist movement would preclude it from bringing about the hoped for spiritual renascence so woefully lacking in the Jewish collective.

[27] See ’Or la-Yesharim (Warsaw, 1900), pp. 57-61. For other (later) recordings of Rabbi Shalom Baer Schneersohn’s anti-Zionist stance, see Bezalel Naor, When God Becomes History: Historical Essays of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook (New York, NY: Kodesh Press, 2016), p. 168, n. 10.

[28] In his autobiography, Chaim Tchernowitz (“Rav Tsa‘ir”) revealed some of the intrigue in the aftermath of the Tsemah Tsedek’s passing that led to the Kopyst-Lubavitch schism. See Ch. Tchernowitz, Pirkei Hayyim (New York, 1954), pp. 104-106.

[29] See Hayyim Meir Heilman, Beit Rabbi (Berdichev, 1902), vol. 3, chap. 9.

[30] See Igrot ha-Rayah, vol. 1 (1962), Letter 39 (pp. 34-36), to Rav Kook’s maternal uncle, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Felman of Riga, a Kopyster Hasid. The letter is datelined, “Jaffa, 3 Marheshvan, [5]667,” i.e. 1906.

[31] Roughly thirty years ago I heard this monetary explanation from Rabbi Chaim Liberman, who had served as personal secretary and librarian of Rabbi Joseph Isaac Schneersohn of Lubavitch.

Interestingly enough, in the 1880s there emerged a theological dispute between the Rebbes of Kopyst and Lubavitch. The way it came about was in the following manner. After the passing of Rabbi Samuel (Maharash) of Lubavitch in 1882, his sons published an edition of their ancestor Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi’s Torah ’Or on the first three parshiyot or pericopes (Bereshit, Noah, Lekh Lekha). Entitled Likkutei Torah, it was brought out in Vilna in 1884. The publishers took the liberty of incorporating into the text comments of the recently deceased Rabbi Samuel Schneersohn. The Kopyster Rebbe, Rabbi Shelomo Zalman Schneerson (author of Magen Avot) was outraged and penned a public letter of protest.

One comment of his uncle Rabbi Samuel (to Parashat Noah) in particular provoked the Kopyster Rebbe, this touching on the proper way to understand Rabbi Isaac Luria’s metaphor of Tsimtsum. In three letters to Rabbi Dan Tumarkin of Roghatchov (a Lubavitcher Hasid), the Kopyster Rebbe clarified his position on Tsimtsum and how it differed from that of Rabbi Samuel Schneersohn. The correspondence is briefly alluded to in H.M. Heilman, Beit Rabbi, vol. 3, chap. 10, s.v. Rabbi Dan Tumarkin. The entire exchange is available in Rabbi Mordechai Menashe Laufer, Ha-Melekh bi-Mesibo, vol. 2 [Kfar Habad, 1993], pp. 283-293. (This truly fascinating correspondence was brought to my attention a generation ago by Baruch Thaler.)

Regarding the publication of Likkutei Torah (Vilna, 1884), see further Hayyim Meir Heilman, Beit Rabbi, vol. 1, 87a; vol. 3, 16a, 28a; Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine, “‘Likkutei Torah’ le-Shalosh Parshiyot,” Kfar Habad, nos. 931, 933. Available online at http://www.shturem.net/index.php?section=blog_new&article_id=29

[32] This issue was raised at the rabbinical conference held in St. Petersburg in 1910. The decisions reached by the delegates were relayed to Stolypin, Minister of the Interior. Some of the heated exchange between the Bobroisker and the Lubavitcher behind closed doors has been preserved in the memoirs of Isaac Schneersohn, one of the delegates to the conference; see I. Schneersohn, Leben un kamf fun Yiden in Tsarishen Rusland 1905-1917 (Paris, 1968). The chapters concerning the 1910 conference were translated from Yiddish into Hebrew by Rabbi Yehoshua Mondshine, “Asifat ha-Rabbanim be-Rusya bi-Shenat ‘Atar,” Kfar Habad, no. 898. Availble online at: http://www.shturem.net/index.php?section=blog_new&article_id=24

According to Isaac Schneersohn, it was none other than he (Crown Rabbi of Chernigov) who proposed abolishing the position of Kazyonny Ravin (in Hebrew, “Rav mi-Ta‘am,” or Crown Rabbi), thus wresting authority from the secular-trained, modern “Rabbiner” and consolidating communal power in the hands of the Talmudically-trained traditional Rav—provided he be proficient in the Russian language.

[33] Historically, the Habad community in Hebron preceded that of Jerusalem. In 1823, Rabbi Dov Baer Shneuri of Lubavitch (“Mitteler Rebbe”), the second-generation leader of the Habad movement, founded a Habad community in Hebron. Later, in 1847, a group of Habad families from Hebron relocated to Jerusalem.

[34] See Kuntres me-Admo”r shelit”a mi-Bobroisk: Teshuvot nitshiyot va-amitiyot ‘al Kuntres Admo”r shelit”a de-Libavitz (1907).

[35] Two names come to mind: Rabbi Nissan Telushkin in the United States and Rabbi Shelomo Yosef Zevin in Erets Yisrael. Both studied in the “Kibbutz” of the Bobroisker Rebbe and received ordination from him. Eventually, with the extinction of Bobroisker Hasidism, both Telushkin and Zevin would transfer their allegiance to Lubavitch. However, their affiliation with the Religious Zionist movement could at times place them in an unenviable position. Particularly Rabbi Zevin oftentimes found himself between a rock and a hard place. Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe residing in Brooklyn, would on occasion expect of Rabbi Zevin to promote positions at variance with his Mizrahi colleagues in Erets Yisrael (such as Chief Rabbi Isaac Halevi Herzog). See Marc B. Shapiro, Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History (Oxford: Littman, 2015), pp. 235; 238, n. 87.

A brief autobiographical sketch of Rabbi Telushkin (a native of Bobroisk) is found at the conclusion of his Halakhic work on mikva’ot (ritual baths), Tohorat Mayim (Brooklyn, NY: Kehot, 1990), pp. 355-356 (“Le-Zikaron”).

[36]In Rabbi Don Yahya’s letter to Rabbi Shelomo Yosef Zevin concerning the counterintuitive thought process that informed Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik’s Halakhic decisions, Rabbi Don Yahya refers to himself as a “Hasid [of] Kopyst.” The context is Rabbi Hayyim’s desire to procure a “Yanover esrog” (citron from Genoa, Italy) to fulfill the commandment, in compliance with the tradition of Habad, and earlier the Hatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim, no. 207. See Hiddushei ha-GRaH he-Hadash ‘al ha-Shas (B’nei Berak: Mishor, 2008), p. 586.

However, in Zikhron Yitshak (Memorial Volume for Rabbi Yitshak Neiman) (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 141 (which is the source of Hiddushei ha-GRaH), Rabbi Don Yahya refers to himself as a “Hasid (Habad).” It would be interesting to see the original of the letter, which may yet be in the hands of the heirs of Rabbi Zevin. From the fact that the word “Habad” is placed in parentheses, one is inclined to assume that this is an addition on the part of an editor (Rabbi Zevin?). According to the Introduction (“Petah Davar”) to Zikhron Yitshak, this is the first publication of the letter from Rabbi Don Yahya to Rabbi Zevin.

Klausner, Toledot “Nes Ziyonah” be-Volozhin, p. 17, records that in 1889, the members of Nes Ziyonah were able to elicit letters of support for the conception of Yishuv Erets Yisrael from the Hasidic Rebbes of Kopyst and Bohush (a branch of Ruzhin).

When Rav Kook Was the Kana’i (Zealot) and His Opponent the Melits Yosher (Advocate)[1]

By Bezalel Naor

In 1891, there appeared in Warsaw an anonymous work[2] entitled Hevesh Pe’er,[3] whose sole objective was to clarify for the masses the proper place on the head to don the tefillah shel rosh or head-phylactery. According to halakhah, the tefillah must be placed no lower than the hairline and no higher than the soft spot on a baby’s head (i.e. the anterior fontanelle).[4] In ancient times, there were sectarian Jews who deliberately placed the tefillah on the forehead, as attested to by the Mishnah: “If one placed it [i.e. the tefillah] on his forehead, or on his hand, this is the way of sectarianism (minut).”[5] These Jews interpreted literally the verse, “You shall bind them for a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for frontlets between your eyes.”[6] Adherents to Rabbinic Judaism are punctilious about placing the hand-phylactery on the biceps of the forearm opposite the heart,[7] and the head-phylactery above the hairline. East European Jews who placed their phylacteries on the forehead did so not out of conviction, as the Sadducees of old, but rather out of sheer ignorance of the law. The slim book (all of 24 leaves or 48 pages) was thus an elaborate educational vehicle to educate the masses how to properly observe the law.[8]

According to the approbation to Hevesh Pe’er by Rabbi Elijah David Rabinowitz-Te’omim (ADeReT) of Ponevezh, the book was published [but not authored] by his former son-in-law (presently his brother’s son-in-law), Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook of Zeimel.[9]

Wares in hand, the young rabbi of Zeimel (aged twenty-six) assumed the role of an itinerant bookseller, travelling from town to town in Lithuania. Wherever he went, he preached concerning the importance of fulfilling the commandment of tefillin. Historically, there was precedent for a rabbi promoting that specific mitsvah. In the thirteenth century, Rabbi Jacob of Coucy (author of Sefer Mitsvot Gadol or SeMaG), circulating in the communities of France and Spain, was able to turn the tide and convince Jews, hitherto lax in their observance of the commandment, to don tefillin.[10] As for an author posing as an itinerant bookseller, Rav Kook’s older contemporary, Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan of Radin, had done exactly that, thus earning himself the sobriquet Hafets Hayyim, after the book by that name that he peddled. (Hafets Hayyim tackles the problem, halakhic and otherwise, of malicious gossip.)

It is recorded that Rav Kook’s sermons had such a positive influence upon his audience that the Rebbe of Slonim, Rabbi Shmuel Weinberg, offered to support him if he would devote himself fulltime to acting as a maggid or peripatetic preacher.[11]

One would never have imagined that this halakhic work would meet with any rabbinic opposition.[12] The point it makes that wearing the head-phylactery below the hairline on the forehead invalidates the performance of the commandment, seems rather clear-cut in the sources. (In fact, but a few years earlier, in 1884, Rabbi Israel Meir Kagan in his work Mishnah Berurah had advised wearing the phylactery higher on the head, at a remove from the hairline, just to be on the safe side.)[13]

However, five years later, Rabbi Ze’ev Wolf Turbowitz of Kraz (Lithuanian, Kražiai; Yiddish, Krozh)[14] devoted the very first of his collected responsa to pummeling the anonymous work Hevesh Pe’er.[15] Rabbi Turbowitz prefaces his remarks by saying: “The intention of this author [i.e. the author of Hevesh Pe’er] is for [the sake of] heaven, but nonetheless he has spoken shabbily of the people of the Lord. May the Lord forgive him. For Israel, ‘if they are not prophets, they are the children of prophets.’”[16] Rabbi Turbowitz goes on to argue that the commandment is invalidated only if the majority of the phylactery is placed below the hairline. If, on the other hand, the majority is situated above the hairline and only a minority below, then the halakhic principle of “rubo ke-khulo” (“the majority as the whole”) applies, and the commandment is fulfilled.[17] One of the rabbi’s supposed proofs is that one must recite the blessing once again only in a case where the entire phylactery or the majority thereof has slipped down, but if only a minority of the phylactery has been displaced, with the majority still within the prescribed area, one does not recite another blessing upon readjusting the phylactery.[18]

Rav Kook (now outed as the author of Hevesh Pe’er) responded to the onslaught of Tif’eret Ziv. His lengthy rejoinder, entitled “Kelil Tif’eret,” appeared in the periodical Torah mi-Zion (Jerusalem, 1900).

Rav Kook dismantles Rabbi Turbowitz’s supposed proof from the fact that another blessing is unwarranted as long as the majority of the phylactery is still in its proper place. Rav Kook reasons that we must distinguish between the essential commandment (“‘etsem ha-mitsvah”) and the action of the commandment (“ma‘aseh ha-mitsvah”). The fact that one does not recite an additional blessing does not necessarily mean that the commandment (“‘etsem ha-mitsvah”) is still being fulfilled. What it does imply, is that the action of the commandment (“ma‘aseh ha-mitsvah”) is ongoing. The blessing addresses renewed action (“ma‘aseh ha-mitsvah”). In a case where only a minority of the phylactery has been displaced, the action required to readjust it does not warrant a blessing. “And the Turei Zahav[19] holds that since in the entire Torah, ‘rubo ke-khulo,’[20] once most of the action has been nullified, the action as a whole is nullified, but if most of the action remains, even though the commandment has been nullified, still the action exists…”[21]

As is typical for Rav Kook, he signs himself, “Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook, servant to the servants of the Lord…Bausk.”[22]

Evidently, Rabbi Turbowitz was not one to take something lying down. He came back at Rav Kook with a stinging reply, integrated into Ziv Mishneh, his commentary to Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah.[23] There, in Hilkhot Tefillin (4:1), he maintains that since “rubo ke-khulo is a universal principle in the entire Torah”[24]—this applies to tefillin as well. He reiterates once again his proof from the TaZ, who ruled that the blessing is recited once again only in a scenario where the tefillin are totally displaced. He mentions the opinion of “one wise man” (“hakham ehad”) who wrote that even the slightest deviation disqualifies the mitsvah, and disagrees. According to Rabbi Turbowitz, lekhathilah (to begin with), the entire phylactery should be above the hairline with none of it extending down to the forehead, but be-di‘avad (ex post facto), if a minority of the phylactery is below the hairline, one has nonetheless fulfilled the commandment. And therefore, the anonymous sage was wrong to badmouth the masses, who are remiss in this respect, and their spiritual leaders, who look the other way and do not protest. “He spoke shabbily of the people of the Lord and will in the future be called to judgment!” After summing up rather concisely the position he took earlier in Tif’eret Ziv, Rabbi Turbowitz now lambastes Rav Kook for what he wrote in Torah mi-Zion (Jerusalem, 1900), no. 4, chap. 4, accusing Rav Kook of deliberately misquoting him.

In 1925, two disciples of Rav Kook, Rabbi Yitshak Arieli[25] and Rabbi Uri Segal Hamburger,[26] reissued Hevesh Pe’er in Jerusalem with Rav Kook’s permission.[27] Appended to the work was Rav Kook’s rebuttal “Kelil Tif’eret.” (In addition, this edition was graced by the comments of Rav Kook’s deceased father-in-law, ADeReT, and of Rav Kook’s admirers in Jerusalem: Rabbis Tsevi Pesah Frank, Ya‘akov Moshe Harlap, and Yehiel Mikhel Tukachinsky. Finally, there are the substantial “Comments upon Comments” [“He‘arot le-He‘arot”] of the editor, Rabbi Yitshak Arieli.)[28]

In 1939, Rabbi Yosef Avigdor Kesler of Rockaway (Arverne to be precise)[29] published a second collection of his deceased father-in-law, Rabbi Ze’ev Turbowitz’s numerous responsa. Whereas the first collection of Tif’eret Ziv covered only Orah Hayyim, this collection covered all four sections of Shulhan ‘Arukh.[30] In addition, it contained a supplement (Kuntres Aharon) entitled “Mele’im Ziv.” In the supplement, Rabbi Kesler published a letter from ADeReT to Rabbi Turbowitz that turned up in the latter’s papers.

ADeReT’s letter is datelined “Monday, Vayyetse, 5657 [i.e. 1896].” In the letter, ADeReT gratefully acknowledges receipt of the recently published book Tif’eret Ziv. Regretting that he is unable to send monetary payment for the book because he is presently inundated with works of various authors, ADeReT nonetheless wishes to at least offer some comment on the contents of the book.[31]

Referring to the very first responsum in Tif’eret Ziv, ADeReT rejoices that Rabbi Turbowitz sought to advocate on behalf of the Jewish People regarding the commandment of tefillin. He is especially overjoyed that Rabbi Turbowicz was not cowed, but dared to differ. ADeReT holds up as role models Rabbi Zerahyah Halevi (Ba‘al ha-Ma’or) who critiqued Rabbi Isaac Alfasi (Rif), only to be attacked himself by Rabad of Posquières; Rabad of Posquières who critiqued Maimonides; et al. Since this is the “way of Torah” (darkah shel Torah), why should he harbor any resentment toward Rabbi Turbowitz for disagreeing with him?[32] (ADeReT, though not the author of Hevesh Pe’er, had wholeheartedly endorsed it.)

The sterling character of ADeReT is best summed up in these lines:

God forbid, I am not deluded to think that truth resides with me. I wholeheartedly acknowledge the truth. I have not a thousandth part of resentment towards one who differs with me. And the opposite, I love him with all my soul when he points out to me the truth.[33]

Since Rabbi Turbowitz acted as a true talmid hakham (Torah scholar) who uninhibitedly speaks truth, ADeReT wonders why he failed to mention the name of the work he critiqued, Hevesh Pe’er. This would have provoked neither the author nor ADeReT.[34]

In this vein of truth-seeking, ADeReT proceeds to explain why the argument presented in Tif’eret Ziv failed to dissuade him from the position adopted both by him and the author of Hevesh Pe’er. Since the shi’ur or measurement of the area on the head where the phylactery is to be placed is Halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai (a law to Moses from Sinai), the principle of “rubo ke-kulo” is of no consequence in this regard.[35]

Realizing the historic importance of the contents of the letter, Rabbi Kesler provided a photograph of the crucial passage in the letter, which reads as follows:

About two years ago, the thought occurred to me to reprint the booklet Hevesh Pe’er. I wrote to its author, my son-in-law, my soul-friend (today the Rabbi of Bausk, may he live) and asked him if he has anything new to add to it. He wrote me an article, brief in quantity but great in quality, that it is possible to say ‘rubo ke-khulo.’ In the summer of 5655 [i.e. 1895] when I was in Warsaw, I already spoke with a printer and also notified the [government] censor, and I was thinking to print. But after this, I reversed myself, and the two of us [i.e. ADeReT and Rav Kook] agreed that it is not worthwhile to print leniencies (kulot) in this.[36]

ADeReT explains that if we show any leniency, it will prove a slippery slope. He reveals to Rabbi Turbowitz his unusual experience with Hasidim in particular: “From this, there came about in places where the Hasidim reside [the custom] to wear large tefillin.[37] Not one in a thousand bears most of the tefillah within the hairline. In most cases, but a small fraction (mi‘uta de-mi‘uta) [is within the hairline]. I have seen with my own eyes the entirety upon the forehead. They laughed at my rebuke, saying: ‘Thus is the mitsvah.’ ‘So we saw our fathers doing.’ etc. etc.”[38]

The letter concludes with this salutation:

His friend who is honored by his love, appreciates his genius and his Torah, and blesses him with all good,

Elijah David Rabinowitz Te’omim

…Mir[39]