‘Yikar Sahaduta Dipum Bidatta’ R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin, the Besamim Rosh and the Chida

‘Yikar Sahaduta Dipum Bidatta’

R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin, the Besamim Rosh and the Chida

Rabbi Moshe Maimon, Jackson NJ

Some of the worst epidemics we have known in our history have indirectly been the catalyst for important contributions by scholars who produced their valuable works under quarantine. Eliezer Brodt has published in these pages considerable lists of such scholarship, from bygone plagues down to the current terrible epidemic, which highlight the vast scope of this literary bounty.

I recently came across a very interesting sefer-epidemic connection which I have not seen mentioned yet. This material highlights the contribution of a scholar who was quite probably in quarantine when he produced his indices to a well-known and much debated sefer—R. Saul Berlin’s storied publication, Besamim Rosh. Perhaps most famous (or infamous) for its reputation as the ultimate rabbinic forgery, an exhaustive history of this volume has already been written (and interested readers would do well to refresh their memory with the excellent survey in this blog post by Dan Rabinowitz & Eliezer Brodt; see also Eliezer Brodt’s exhaustive bibliography on the subject in a footnote in Yeshurun, vol. 24, pp. 425-427). My own study of the saga of this sefer during the present COVID-19 quarantine era can hopefully shed light on some striking details pertaining to this account.

R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin in defense of Besamim Rosh

Those who have followed the rocky history associated with Besamim Rosh will recall the strenuous defense of this sefer penned by R. Saul’s father, R. Tzvi Hirsh Levin, rabbi of Berlin, and reproduced in the introduction to Rabbi Amar’s recent edition of Besamim Rosh, and most recently, together with a facsimile of the original, in R. Yisroel Chaim Tessler’s comprehensive overview of the history of R. Saul Berlin and the Besamim Rosh in Pe’alim LaTorah (vol. 34 pp. 226-229).

Modern books of Hebrew Bibliography, such as Friedberg’sBet Eked Sefarim and Winograd’s Otzar HaSefer Ha’Ivri, contain an entry for a separate pamphlet published by R. Zvi Hirsch Levin written in defense of the Besamim Rosh entitled Yikar Sahaduta. This has led some to conclude that in addition to his letter of defense, R. Levin also wrote an additional pamphlet to clear his son of any suspicion. As far as I could tell, a separate pamphlet by this name is not to be found in any library or other public holding (cf. the aforementioned Pe’alim LaTorah article fn. 61), however, the Heimann Michael collection contains an entry on p. 250 for a copy of אוצרות חיים catalogue Besamim Rosh which has an additional pamphlet by R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin by this name appended to it, and this is likely the source for the entry in the aforementioned bibliographies.

As the printed books from Heimann Michael collection were later purchased by the British Library, it stands to reason that we may yet be able to ascertain if this Yikar Sahaduta is indeed a separate publication, though I have a hunch it is none other than R. Levin’s famous (untitled) letter that must have been bound at a later date with the sefer (as it is in R. Levin’s manuscript copy of the Besamim Rosh held at The Russian State Military Archives, see here).

The existence of a volume of R. Saul’s earlier controversial work, Mitzpeh Yakte’el (Berlin 1789), bound with R. Levin’s letter in defense of the Besamim Rosh, would lend some weight to this supposition. This copy is attested to by Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, in his Sefer VeSayaf (New York 1967, pp. 213-215), who was somehow misled by it into thinking that the defense of Besamim Rosh was written and published with Mitzpeh Yakte’el four years prior to the actual publication of the Besamim Rosh! In any event, the British Library is at present closed to staff and public alike due to Covid-19 restrictions, and I have had to arrest my investigation of the matter for now.

While In Seclusion…

This untitled letter starts with some rhymed prose, beginning with the and continues on with a passionate defense of the ,איש עניו words integrity of the sefer, and includes a barely restrained attack on those who dare to impugn it. R. Levin writes that anyone who disparages this sefer is besmirching the good name of R. Levin himself, for it was he who had given the sefer his imprimatur after reading it in manuscript form (prepared for him by his other son, R. Shlomo, later famous as R. Solomon Hirschell, Chief Rabbi of Great Britain). The manuscript had been in his possession for close to ten years prior to its 1793 printing, and it was R. Levin himself who had helped prepare the indices for this volume during his stay in Pyrmont:

והנה מעידני עלי שמים וארץ כי הספר הלז הועתק לי מבני הרבני המופלג ומושלם כמוהר”ר שלמה נר”ו זה כעשר שנים, ואני בעצמי עשיתי לו המפתחות כסדר הטורים בפרמונד… ואם כדברי המתקדשים הללו בי אני העון אשר הסכמתי להוציאם לאורה ולא על בני הגאון נר”ו לבד תלונתם כי אם גם עלי.

[I call heaven and earth as my witnesses that this sefer was copied for me about ten years ago by my son, the distinguished and perfect rabbi, R. Solomon, may G-d protect and keep him, and I personally prepared the indices according to the order of the Tur in Pyrmont… and if these sanctimonious hypocrites are correct, then the fault lies with me for sanctioning the publication; their grievance is not just with my son [R. Saul], the exemplary scholar, may G-d keep and protect him, but rather with me as well]

R. Menachem Silber pointed out to me that this Pyrmont is most probably the resort and spa town Bad Pyrmont. Here is a contemporary depiction of the promenade between the baths and the town of Pyrmont from 1780, about the time of R. Levin’s stay there, courtesy of Wikipedia. R. Levin does not explain in this letter the significance of his stay in Pyrmont. However, in an entry in his journal, published by his descendant, R. Tzvi Michaelsohn, in his responsa Tirosh VeYitzhar in the section at the end of the sefer devoted to his antecedents’ novellae (new pagination, p. 35), we read the following:

כל זה כתבתי לי זה רבות בשנים ועתה בשנת תקו”ם לפ”ק בהיותי בפירמונד ונשב בד בבד ואין ספרים הצריכים בידי כי אם מעט אשר לקחתי מביתי ומהם ס’ בשמים ראש כ”י )ברור שכך צ”ל, ובמקור “כו'” וכנראה נשתבש המעתיק בהעתקת כתה”י – .(MM

[I had written the above some years ago, but now in the year 1786, while dwelling in solitude in Pyrmont, I have few sefarim with me save for the few that I was able to take with me from home, including the sefer Besamim Rosh in manuscript].

This manuscript’s placement in Pyrmont is further evidenced by an inscription on the manuscript by one Yechiel Michel b. R. Isserl who, writing in Pyrmont (the date 1757 given in the JNULcatalogue is obviously an error in transcription), attests that the volume was in the possession of “the exemplary scholar and great rabbi of Berlin and its environs” (a reference to R. Levin himself). Later (p. 41), R. Levin writes further of his stay in Pyrmont:

ב”ה פירמונד. לאשר אין אתי כי אם ספרי משניות ושאר ספרי דבי רב אינם נמצאים כאן אמרתי לרשום כל העולה בלבי עד ירחם ה‘ לנו ונעיין בה.

[By the Grace of G-d, Pyrmont: Having no sefarim with me here, save for a set of Mishnayot and a few other rabbinic volumes, I have determined to note whatever thoughts occur to me until God has mercy on us and I have the opportunity to do further research on them].

I have not found confirmation of an epidemic in the environs of Berlin in the year 1786, but the fact that R. Levin bemoaned his having to remain in solitude in Pyrmont, bereft of his holy works, until God shows mercy on his people, does strongly indicate that he was not there on vacation, but was forced to shelter in place there to avoid the plague. Perhaps one of the readers can supply more information and shed light on this episode.

Be that as it may, it is clear that R. Levin took advantage of his time in Pyrmont to thoroughly review the manuscript volume of Besamim Rosh (see also further references to Besamim Rosh in his novella, ibid. p. 38 section 41:3, 42:6 and p. 44 section 56:1), and it was then that he created the indices for the sefer. This must have been no small feat, as he was likely forced to rely in great part on his prodigious memory due to the dearth of basic source material available at Pyrmont.

Noteworthy in itself is that the manuscript of Besamim Rosh was among the few volumes R. Levin took with him to Pyrmont, indicative of his interest – unique among his contemporaries – in manuscript works of Rishonim. Further testament to this interest is R. Levin’s copy of a manuscript of Sefer Ra’avyah (today known as The Beth Din & Beth Hamidrash Library, London, England Ms. 11) which later formed the basis of the new edition published by R. David Deblitzky (Bnei Braq 2005), and which contains many glosses in R. Levin’s hand. One such gloss actually concerns the Besamim Rosh, and it is published here for the first time in its entirety (it is cited in R. Deblitzky’s edition, vol. 1 p. 40 fn. 14, though R. Deblitzky had trouble deciphering a couple of words):

נראה שיש כאן חסרון לשון ומ”מ אנו למדין ממנו שמחלוקת ישנה היא אי בעל קרי מותר בתפילין וכאשר כתבתי במקום אחר לסתום פי דוברי נבלה אשר שננו לשונם דבר מר על ספר בשמים ראש

[There appears to be a lacunae here, however, we may adduce from this statement that the debate with regards to the permissibility of a Ba’al Keri to wear tefillin is an old one, and I already wrote on this elsewhere to silence the speakers of mendacity (cf. Yeshayahu 9:16 – MM) who sharpened their tongues to speak ill of the seferBesamim Rosh].

Besamim Rosh in the Chida’s Shem HaGedolim

Once on the topic of the Besamim Rosh and R. Levin’s letter of defense of it, I would like to revisit the issue of the Chida’s opinion of the sefer, and his response to R. Levin’s missive supporting it. (I had touched on this previously in a note to an article for Yeshurun vol. 28 p. 935 fn. 3).

Our primary concern will be with the entry on Besamim Rosh in the Chida’s popular bibliographical work, Shem HaGedolim, though our study of his views will give us occasion to examine statements in various other works of his as well (followed by loose translations of these statements that aim to preserve the intent of the Chida’s rich rhetorical melitza, if not necessarily its literal translation). In the course of our study, it will serve us well to bear in mind that the Chida was ever the prolific writer who particularly favored the Sephardic style of journalistic study, and in the course of his study he would constantly note in his journals anything he wished to be able to refer to later.

[In Sephardic parlance these journals would be calledZichronot – perhaps best rendered in English as ‘reminders’ – as distinct from the same term used in Ashkenazic circles to denote memoir literature. For the Chida’s own use of the term in describing his journals see the list in the bibliographical work Maranan VeRabanan appended to the Machon HaMao’r edition of Shem HaGedolim vol. 2 p. 52 #17. This list adds to the scant entry in the previous edition of Maranan VeRabanan, 1991, though it is far from comprehensive. The Chida also alluded to this term in the naming of his seferEyn Zocher as evidenced in his prelude there].

The Chida’s prolific sefarim output was based on this method of study, as he would use the material in these diaries for publication in his many sefarim (compare in general Meir Benayahu’s description of the Chida’s method of arranging his notes for publication in his biography, Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay, Jerusalem, 1959, p. 93). Perhaps unique among his peers in this regard, the Chida, with his keen bibliographical instinct, was also accustomed to jot down historical and bibliographical items of interest to him, and these notations would later form the basis of his various works which together form his celebrated Shem HaGedolim (cf. Oded Cohen’s doctoral dissertation on the Chida’s cultural world: Chadashim Gam Yeshanim, Tel Aviv University, 2016, from p. 169, and recently, in the introduction to the new edition of Shem Hagedolim published by Machon HaMa’or (Jerusalem, 2019).

Contemporary editions of this work are all based on the 1852 edition, edited and published in Vilna by Yitzchak Isaac Ben-Jacob. This volume is an amalgamation of two separate, though similar, works published in various editions by the Chida, Shem HaGedolim and Va’ad Lechachamim, along with various supplemental additions appended by him to some of his subsequent works, ordered in separate arrangements – by names of scholars and by names of publications. On this edition in general, and on the editorial discretion (and liberties) employed by its publisher in particular, see the excellent article by Oded Cohen, ‘The Freedom of Editing: Isaac Benjacob’s Re-editing of Hida’s Shem Ha-gedolim’, in Zutot 10 (2013), pp. 71-87 (based on his aforementioned dissertation, from p. 182; in both sources the date for Ben Jacob’s edition is given as 1853, seemingly based on a simple computation of the Hebrew date, however the date 1852 is clearly listed on the title page, so ,תרי”ג the sefer must have been published in the few months remaining to that year after Rosh Hashana). This streamlined format is very beneficial as it made it easy to access all of the Chida’s previously disassembled comments on a particular sefer or author, and this popular format has been reproduced in all subsequent editions. Yet, while Ben-Jacob was careful to delineate the various sources from the Chida’s publications used in each particular entry, and noted them in his footnotes, the later editions omitted his notations altogether. This has proven to be a major drawback since when attempting to unpack the chronological progression of the Chida’s views concerning a specific sefer, tracking down the earlier works that now comprise the Shem HaGedolim is often indispensable in determining what he had written when.

The new Machon HaMa’or edition does make some headway in this regard, and many times the varying publications that make up a specific entry in this edition are sourced in the notes. However, as explained in their introduction, they chose not to replicate Ben-Jacob’s system, but rather to incorporate these sources in their own notes when deemed important, without systematically annotating the text. This is a regrettable decision, as without a systematic formula by which the reader can identify the different sources, the reader is often at a loss in determining that what appears at times to be one unified entry, has in fact been culled from a variety of sources.

The entry on Besamim Rosh is one such example, since this entry contains three separate statements regarding the sefer – from two different publications and espousing different views. The written record in the Chida’s other works contains varied positions towards the sefer; an initial enthusiastic reception shifting to reserved suspicion, and finally, unqualified acceptance. Only by classifying the differing statements chronologically, is it possible to ascertain the progression of his opinions.

The Chida’s Evolving Assessment

The first statement in Shem HaGedolim concerning this sefer comes from the entry for Besamim Rosh in the first volume of his sefer Va’ad LeChachamim, a bibliographical sequel to the two previously published volumes of Shem HaGedolim. Va’ad LeChachamim was first published in 1796, though this entry was apparently written very shortly after the 1793 publication of Besamim Rosh, as indicated by the opening words :”just now“= ”עתה מקרוב“

בשמים ראש – עתה מקרוב נדפס ספר זה בברלין ושיש בו סימנים שצ”ב מתשובות הרא”ש ושאר גדולים וזה שמו בשמים גימטריא שצ”ב. רא”ש תשובות הרא”ש. וזה הספר הכינו וקבצו וחקרו הרב הגדול מהר”ר יצחק די מולינא ז”ל אשר מצא ספר גדול משו”ת הרא”ש וגדולים אחרים אצל גביר אחד והוא סילת וזיקק ולקט קובץ זה ועשה עליו הגהות כמפורש שם. ועוד יש הגהות כסא דהרסנא.

[Besamim Rosh – This sefer has just now published in Berlin, and it has 392 responsa from the Rosh and other great rabbis, and it is thus called Besamim, the numerical value of which is 392. This volume was collected and prepared for publication by the great rabbi, our esteemed teacher R. Yitzchak De Molina of blessed memory, who found a large volume of responsa from the Rosh and other great rabbis at the home of a wealthy patron, and he sifted through them and collected the select ones to which he appended his comments as described within. There are also included a section of comments entitledKasa DeHarsena].

The decidedly reserved tone of this entry is readily apparent, and the reason for this is immediately explained by the Chida’s observation below:

ואשמע אחרי קול רעש כי יש בספר זה קצת דברים זרים ואמרו שהמעתיק הראשון בארץ תוגרמה מכ”י הרב יצחק די מולינא ז”ל יש לחוש שהוסיף וגרע. ולכן הקורא בס’ זה לא יסמוך עליו דאפשר דתלי בוקי סריקי בגדולים עד אשר יחקור ויברר הדברים ודברי אמת ניכרים. ודי בזה.

[I subsequently heard a clamor to the effect that there are some strange things in this sefer, and that the person in Turkey who first transcribed this sefer from the original manuscript of R. Yitzchak De Molina of blessed memory, may have perhaps added and detracted. Therefore, one who reads this sefer should not rely on it as there exists the possibility that nonsensical things have been attributed to great rabbis, unless he first investigates and clarifies the matter; and indeed, authentic material is recognizable as such. Let this suffice].

The Chida, one of the most outstanding rabbinic scholars and bibliophiles of his time, was typically very enthusiastic about newly published rabbinic manuscripts. His writings are replete with references to new ones he had seen, and from which he gleaned various insights for inclusion in his own sefarim.

The publication of the Besamim Rosh understandably excited him and he perused it for insight into topics he had himself dealt with in his writings. In his collection of halachic essays, Tov Ayin, published in the same volume as the aforementioned Va’ad LeChachamim, some of the insights gleaned from this perusal are recorded in various sections (#8, 9, 18:12,29,86).

In fact, one particular section (#9), is devoted solely to halachic observations pertaining to the Besamim Rosh. This section consists of various entries, culled by the Chida from his many diaries, to which were added notations pertaining to thoughts he had seen in the copy of Besamim Rosh that he had borrowed for a few days.

[The Chida was careful to note when he quoted from a borrowed sefer so that contemporaries could not criticize him for not citing a specific source from a volume he had himself quoted elsewhere; see for example והיטב“ :Shu”t Chayyim Sha’al, vol. 2, section 10 paragraph 1, to wit חרה לו דהיה לי להביא דברי ספר הכוונת… אך גר אנכי בארץ וכמה ספרים He was“= ”עיקריים אין בידי ואם חיי”ם שא”ל ספרא וספרי מקיים מצות השבה greatly upset that I did not cite Sefer HaKavanot… however I am but sojourner in this land and I lack many basic sefarim. Even when I did borrow a specific sefer, I was quick to return it”].

One entry in this section (#9:2) records the Chida’s enthusiastic and all ,(”היום נראה בעליל ספר בשמים ראש“) reception of the new sefer the entries show how various notations in the Chida’s writings were enhanced by his brief study of the sefer. The section concludes with the Chida’s measured remarks concerning the suspicion that had been raised in connection with this sefer:

הן בעודני קורא דרך ארעי בספר בשמים ראש הנזכר אחרי כתבי קצת פרטים שכתבתי לעיל שמעתי שיש מפקפקים בספר הזה כמו שכתבתי בקונטריס ועד לחכמים ריש מערכת בי”ת והנה צור”ף כי הספר הנזכר שאול הוא אתי לכן עמד קנה במקומו לעת הלום וה’ יצילנו משגיאות ויראנו מתורתו נפלאות כי”ר.

[During my perfunctory study of the aforementioned sefer Besamim Rosh, after I had written the few things previously mentioned, I heard that there are those who view this sefer with suspicion as I have written in my work Va’ad LeChachamim at the beginning of section Bet, which is appended to this work. As it was a borrowed sefer, I desisted from further study of it for now. May God protect us from blunders and may it be His will to reveal wondrous Torah insights to us].

This passage is revealing in that it demonstrates how the Chida’s writings were constructed. As mentioned earlier, the Chida only had the Besamim Rosh in his possession for a few days before desisting from studying it upon hearing the negative rumors surrounding the sefer. Nevertheless, in this short amount of time he had managed to write down several pages of novellae, as well as add various notations to existing entries in his diaries. Only after hearing the rumblings did he go back to add a cautionary note vis-à-vis the Besamim Rosh.

It is alluring to visualize the Chida sitting diligently at his desk with his notebooks open and pen in hand, variously writing and studying, studying and writing. The Chida describes his decision to לכן“ ,desist from further study of theBesamim Rosh with the phrase and so the pen stopped here”—likely a quite literal“= ”עמד קנה במקומו statement.

ואשמע“ ,The language in the aforementioned entry inVa’ad Lechachamim I subsequently heard,” also suggests that the two paragraphs“= ”אחרי were written at separate intervals. It seems that the first paragraph was written almost as soon as the Chida held the sefer in hand, and he quickly noted the bibliographical information in the manuscript of Va’ad LeChachamim that he was working on. Only later, upon hearing of the suspicions leveled against the sefer, did he go back and added the cautionary note. (I might add that I think it likely that the original entries pertaining to the Besamim Rosh contained some of the Chida’s customarily laudatory language, such as we find in Tov Ayin, but were later mildly edited for publication in light of the new findings).

Further evidence for the two stages in the Chida’s early reception of the Besamim Rosh can be adduced from an earlier entry for Mar Avraham Gaon in Va’ad LeChachamim, where the Chida first notes a responsum of Besamim Rosh pertinent to the discussion of using the biblical name of Yishma’el, and only in a later paragraph adds the disclaimer:

ואחרי כותבי יצאו עוררין על ספר זה כמו שכתבתי להלן במערכת בית ע”ש.

[After this writing, rumors were spread impugning this sefer as noted further in section Bet, see there].

The notebooks that were to become the Va’ad LeChachamim and the Tov Ayin were not the only volumes on the Chida’s desk at the time he conducted his survey of Besamim Rosh. He was simultaneously in the process of publishing his Nachal Kedumim, a running commentary on the Chumash culled from manuscript works of Rishonim along with his own observations, which appeared alongside the classicChumash commentaries in the five volume set ofTorah Ohr, in the years 1795-1797. In this work too, the Chida had occasion to reference the Besamim Rosh, though only in the addendum, Arvei Nachal. This was pursuant to his comments on Shemot (25:4) regarding the identity of the Chilazon from which the t’chelet dye was extracted for use in the construction of the Mishkan:

אחר זמן נדפסו שו”ת בשמים ראש ומשם הוכחתי בקונטריס טוב עין סי’ ט’ אות י”ב דחלזון הוא טהור ולפי”ז נחה שקטה האר”ש כל זמן שלא מצינו בדברי רז”ל להיפך.

[After some time, the responsa Besamim Rosh were published and from there I was able to prove in my compendiumTov Ayin, section 9 paragraph 12, that the Chilazon was a kosher species, and accordingly, the matter is settled as long as we don’t find any contradictory passage in the words of our sages of blessed memory].

Interestingly, here the Chida refers to what he had written in his Tov Ayin based on the Besamim Rosh, though this is already after the Chida became aware of the calumnies leveled against the Besamim Rosh, and he therefore adds the postscript that he is only relying on the Besamim Rosh as a proof text inasmuch as the conclusion drawn from this particular responsum is not contradicted by any Talmudic findings. It is instructive to contrast this position with his initial position regarding Besamim Rosh, displayed earlier in Tov Ayin (section 8) whereby the Chida exhorts his correspondent to follow the ruling of Besamim Rosh, as they are the words of the Rishonim.

One reference to Besamim Rosh in Tov Ayin (18:29), where the Chida highlights the finer points of his earlier discussion regarding the propriety of using the name Yishma’el, was similarly penned after the Chida had begun to view the sefer with suspicion, and he reiterates the disclaimer that he had made in Va’ad LeChachamim:

ועוד האריך בשו”ת בשמים ראש סימן י”ט ובתשובה לא חתים שמה דמארה עלה ואין לסמוך עליה, ומה גם שנשמע שערערו שהמעתיק תשובות אלו בתוגרמה הוסיף איזה דברים כמ”ש בקונטריס ועד לחכמים.

[This is elaborated on in the responsaBesamim Rosh section 19; however that particular responsum is unsigned and it cannot be relied upon – especially after hearing the rumors claiming that the copyist of these responsa in Turkey added some interpolations, as I have written in Va’ad LeChachamim].

Suspicion Raised by Anonymous Responsa

Throughout, it is apparent that the Chida’s main suspicion lay with those responsa that appear in Besamim Rosh anonymously. This concurs with the gist of the rumors that had reached the Chida, spelled out in the aforementioned entry in Va’ad LeChachamim and also mentioned briefly in Tov Ayin, namely, that an unnamed scribe in Turkey was responsible for inserting non-authentic responsa into his transcription of the original collection.

This brings us to the letter of defense of Besamim Rosh penned by R. Levin, and the Chida’s reaction to it. Though this letter was penned in 1794, it only reached the Chida’s attention after the 1796 publication of the first volume of Va’ad LeChachamim – though sometime before the 1798 publication of the second volume (a digital copy of which can be found here), for only in this second volume, does the Chida record his reception of this letter:

בשמים ראש – עמ”ש בח”א, ואחר זמן ראיתי בדפוס דברי הגאון הגדול המפורסם ר”מ ואב”ד דק”ק ברלין יע”א מהר”ר צבי הירש נר”ו, אמר מר כי שמע מוציאי דבה על הס’ הנז’, והפיץ והדיח כל הדברים יגעים ואסהדתיה דרב כי הספר תמים כתיב ביה והיה עשר שנים בביתו טרם שנדפס ואהניא לן יק”ר סהדותא דפום בדת”א.

[Besamim Rosh – See what I wrote in volume one. After some time I saw a printed letter from the great and famous exemplary scholar, Chief Rabbi and Academy head of the holy community of Berlin, may G-d rebuild His city Amen, our esteemed teacher and rabbi R. Tzvi Hirsch, may G-d protect and keep him. Our master said that he heard of people spreading calumnies against the aforementioned sefer, and he shattered and discredited all the inane words. The rabbi testified regarding the integrity of the sefer which had been in his possession for ten years prior to its publication, and we were pleased with his testimony against the deceitful speech].

Mystery Phrase

At the end of this volume, in a section devoted to corrigenda entitled Shulchan BaMidbar, the Chida noted that two words should be added to .ותנן בבחירת”א :the concluding sentence of this entry However, the meaning of this rhetorical flourish is not entirely clear. In my aforementioned Yeshurun article, I suggested that these words be taken in context of the Chida’s generally strong aversion to controversy, and translated accordingly as “and it was therefore chosen for inclusion.”

Later, R. Betzalel Deblitzky wrote to me proposing that these words be understood as the Chida’s emphasis of his endorsement of R. Levin’s testimony, which he did by applying to it the same Talmudic phrase used to indicate that the Halacha is in accordance with those choice halachic testimonies recorded in Masechet Eduyot (cf. Rashi Kiddushin, end of 54b).

This reading, however, is not without difficulty. At the outset, if nothing essential has been added, it is hard to see why the Chida would trouble himself to add these two words in the corrigenda. Furthermore, in an addendum to what was to be the Chida’s final publication, his Mar’it Ha’Ayin, in a parallel passage to this one in Va’ad LeChachamim 2, the Chida writes:

ועתה אמת אגיד כי בקונטריס ועד לחכמים, ושם בטוב עין כתבתי דיצאו עוררין על ספר בשמים ראש, ע”ש, ואחר זמן ראיתי פתקא אחת שהדפיס הגאון מוהר”ר הירש אב”ד דק”ק ברלין להפיץ ולהדיח מה שערערו על הס’ הנזכר, והעיד שהס’ הנזכר הוא אמיתי ולא חלו בו ידים כלל, והוא היודע ועד, ועוד האריך בזה. ובודאי דסמכינן אהימנותיה ואהניא לן אסהדתיה.

[And now, I must tell you the truth; previously I had written in the compendium Va’ad LeChachamim, and in that same volume, in Tov Ayin, that rumors were spread impugning the sefer Besamim Rosh – see what I wrote there. Yet, after a while I saw a single flyer printed by the exemplary scholar, our esteemed teacher and rabbi R. Hirsch, Chief Rabbi of the holy community of Berlin, in order to shatter and discredit the rumors impugning the aforementioned sefer, and in it he testified that the aforementioned sefer is authentic and has not been tampered with at all, saying that he knows this to be true firsthand; and he elaborated in this vein. We should certainly rely on his trustworthiness, and I was pleased with his testimony].

It is instructive to note the similarity in language in these two parallel passages. It would appear that one of these passages actually served as the basis for the other. The fact that the Chida in this Mar’it Ha’Ayin passage only refers to the first volume ofVa’ad LeChachamim and not to the updated entry in Volume Two, is a strong indication that this particular passage had been penned before the 1798 publication of Volume Two, in which case it is more than likely that the Chida copied the gist of this paragraph into his final draft of Volume Two as he readied it for publication. This possibility is further bolstered by the observation that the Chida’s language in this passage indicates that this is his first telling of his about-face on the Besamim Rosh on account of R. Levin’s bulletin.

The upshot of this is that in view of the source for the entry in in the ותנן בבחירת”א Va’ad LeChachamim, the addition of the two words corrigenda, which do not appear in the original source, does not appear to serve the purpose of emphasis alone. More likely, those two words serve a purpose germane to the context in which they appear, namely as an apologetic for the inclusion of the Besamim Rosh entry in the Chida’s sefer.

My final objection to this reading is based on my understanding of the Chida’s rhetorical melitzah style. This reading would have it that the here is borrowed from its Talmudic context, with ותנן בבחירת”א term the intent to draw a parallel from its usage there. I feel this reading is more typical of the Ashkenazicmelitzah of Chida’s contemporaries – such as the celebrated R. Ya’akov Emden – who would throw around Talmudic and biblical phrases in loose context just to emphasize a point connected to the meaning of the phrase in its original context. In this sort ofmelitzah , one cannot fully comprehend the import of the words without knowledge of their meaning in the original, though oftentimes the message of the passage is abundantly clear on its own.

The Chida’s Sephardic melitza, however was of a rather different sort. In his melitzah, the words from the fragmented biblical or talmudical quotation – applied with little regard to proper syntax and grammar – are intended to take the place of words with similar meaning, and must be read with the sentence in order to make sense. As such, it would be expected that these two words are to be understood as saying something distinct and are not just intended to add fuel to the fire. which he invariably does ,בבחירת”א In this case, the Chida hyphenated in order to highlight that the word is being used in a different manner, or with a different spelling, than in its original context. here is not a reference to the בבחירת”א This leads me to believe that is the name given to the בחירתא Talmudic use of the phrase in which collection of choice testimonies in Masechet Eduyot, but is rather in including the (בחירה) used here as to indicate the Chida’s choice entry in his bibliographical compendium.

Unequivocal Acceptance

It may also refer to the Chida’s general acceptance of the sefer, as from this point forward, the Chida freely references the sefer without adding any note of reservation, such as in his Kisse Rachamim (Livorno 1803, Soferim, Tosefot, 1:9). Especially noteworthy is the citation in his 1798 publication Shu”T Yosef Ometz (section 11) where for the third time the discussion is raised about the permissibility of using names such as Yishma’el. While in the first two discussions cited earlier, the mention of the responsum in Besamim Rosh prompted the Chida’s subsequent disclaimer, here the mention of this responsum is stated with equanimity.

Despite the ambiguity of this particular addendum, it is clear that the Chida relied completely on R. Levin’s letter and that, in his mind, the sefer was now clear of all suspicion. Yet, one question remains. If, as the Chida stated in the Besamim Rosh entry in Va’ad LeChachamim, the suspicions concerned additions to the manuscript by an unknown scribe while still in Turkey—that is before reaching the hands of the publisher in Berlin, R. Saul Berlin, and his father, R. Hirsch Levin—how would R. Levin’s testimony to the integrity of the manuscript allay these suspicions? After all, R. Levin’s manuscript was based on the one which contained these alleged interpolations! (An editorial footnote to my article points out that this question already bothered the author of Dikdukei Soferim in his glosses to Shem Hagedolim).

In my Yeshurun article, I posited that the Chida deliberately concealed the real suspicions surrounding the sefer, namely that R. Saul himself was responsible for the fraudulent interpolations in Besamim Rosh, and out of respect for R. Saul’s father, the Chida instead blamed these insertions on some anonymous copyist in Turkey. Later, I saw that R. Matisyahu Shtrashun had already reached a similar conclusion in his notes to Sh. Y. Fuenn’sKiryah Ne’emanah (Vilna 1915, p. 47-48).

An observation noted in the new edition of Shem HaGedolim by Machon HaMa’or may lend weight to this interpretation; nowhere in all the entries pertaining to this sefer does the Chida so much as mention the name of the publisher R. Saul Berlin. This is all the more conspicuous after the Chida mentions that the notes, Kasa DeHarsena, were appended to the sefer, without mentioning the author of these notes, R. Saul Berlin himself.

On the surface, this may indeed be indicative of the Chida’s holding of R. Saul in contempt for his role in the forgery. Yet, as noted in the same Yeshurun article, the Chida rarely cites his contemporaries in his Shem HaGedolim, and little can be deduced from the omission of R. Saul’s name. This is particularly true in light of the fact that previously, in his 1785 Machazik Beracha, and his 1790 Petach Eynayim, the Chida responded to critical glosses penned by the same R. Saul Berlin on the Chida’s Birkei Yoseph on Yoreh De’ah, and when referring to these glosses, the Chida does not name the author, whom he and refers to him only ,(גברא רבא) ’describes as ‘a formidable scholar as ‘the German Rabbi’ (see R. Reuven Margalios article inAreshet , Jerusalem 1944, pp. 414-417, and R. Ya’akov Chaim Sofer,Menuchat Shalom, vol. 8 p. 229). Similarly, when the Chida refers in his Shu”T Yosef Ometz (section 7), to something R. Saul wrote in Kasa DeHarsena, he refers only to the sefer but does not mention the author by name.

Furthermore, we have already seen how the Chida reiterates the claim about the errant Turkish copyist in his Tov Ayin, itself an indication that this is an accurate description of the claim countered by the Chida. As previously indicated, this passage underscores that the Chida was not worried about forgery as much as unworthy interpolation; he was therefore only concerned about an unattributed and unsigned responsum.

In the Final Analysis…

I now think that the Chida’s report of interpolations by an unnamed Turkish copyist should be taken at face value. Though the Chida’s language indicates that the complaints leveled against theBesamim Rosh were mere hearsay (as opposed to R. Levin’s defense which the Chida stresses he saw in print), and we cannot specifically identify the source of the rumors that reached his ears, we do know that similar rumors did indeed abound. Take for instance this quote from one of the leading antagonists, R. Mordechai Benet, in his Parashat Mordechai (section 5, page 8): ‘He amassed a heap of untoward sources,’ and compare also this selection from R. Levin’s letter in response to the accusations:

כי מצאו בתוך הבשמים חלבנה, והדברים לא יצאו מפי המחברים אשר נקרא שמם עליהם כי דבר בליעל יצוק בו להדיח עם ה’ מעל אלהיהם.

[They claimed to have found foul-smelling Galbanum among the Besamim incense, and that the essays are misattributed to the authors whose names they bear, for malicious content has been added in to cause Hashem’s nation to stray from their God].

Though R. Levin’s description of the charges does include the charge of forgery, it still does not name R. Saul as the culprit, and it may indicate the presence of rumors that accused him of negligence in publishing a work that contained forged and misattributed material, while stopping short of accusing him of actually perpetrating the forgery. It should be pointed out that from a historical perspective, the notion that a rabbinic work could be a complete forgery was such an outlandish proposition at that time that even the detractors wouldn’t openly make such a claim. It would be almost a hundred years before someone like R. Matisyahu Shtrashun would seriously consider the possibility that the entire work was the brainchild of R. Saul alone, and even after that we still find the likes of the great R. insisting that the Besamim Rosh does contain legitimate Rishonaic responsa (see Chiddushei R. Meir Simcha, vol. 2, p. 372).

As such, we should understand that the Chida accepted R. Levin’s defense of the Besamim Rosh more as vouching for the content of the sefer, and less as attesting to his son’s innocence. Contrast this with the comments of the author of Dikdukei Soferim and R. Matisyahu Shtrashun (cf. the earlier citations to their respective comments), who both wondered how the Chida could rely on R. Levin’s testimony and ignore a father’s obvious partiality towards his son. Obviously, whereas they took R. Levin’s missive as an argument in support of his son, the Chida took it as a vindication of the sefer itself.

The Chida’s reading is in fact borne out by the bulk of R. Levin’s circular (which R. Matisyahu Shtrashun admits he had not actually seen) in which R. Levin asserts that that the presence of some strange content in a sefer should by no means disqualify it, as the same can be said of many sefarim, and it is wrong to characterize a sefer on the basis of a few anomalous statements (“for this is typical of [Jewish] apostates, they collect what appears to them as strange Aggadot and unjust laws, and they then slant them in a way that will incite hatred and animosity towards us”). In any case, he adds, when taken in context these passages can often be explained in a satisfactory manner. The Chida thus appeals to R. Levin’s authority and esteem, and after reading R. Levin’s strenuous claim for the veracity and integrity of the content ofBesamim Rosh, the Chida readily accepted his testimony, and discounted the false rumors without equivocation.

Ironically, though R. Matisyahu Shtrashun has all but discounted the Chida’s reliance on the testimony of R. Levin, my reading of the Chida actually anticipates R. Shtrashun’s own opinion of the sefer. R. Shtrashun concludes his brief survey of the reception of Besamim Rosh with the following remarks:

ואחרי כל אלה יש להעיר כי אף אם נחליט שכל הספר מראשיתו ועד אחריתו מעשי ידי ר’ שאול הנהו, לא נוכל לדחותו כלאחר יד חלילה, ואחרי אשר נסיר ממנו איזה דברים שנפש היפה סולדת בהם (אשר אמנם גם שם נשאר מקום רחב ידים להפוך בזכותו) הנהו מלא תורה כרמון וריח בשמיו נודף כאפרסמון בלול בחריפות ובקיאות, מחברו חותר ומעמיק בפלפול ישר בדברי הש”ס ובדברי הראשונים והאחרונים כאחד ממיוחדי גאוני זמנו.

[Having said all this, it is worth noting that even if we were to conclude that the entire sefer from beginning to end is but the handiwork of R. Saul, we still cannot discount it out of hand. For once we remove some of the more objectionable content (although there is actually ample ground to find justification even for this content), we will find it be full of excellent Torah insight, replete with ingenuity and proficiency. The author utilizes sound sophistry in developing his penetrating arguments from the Talmud and the works of Rishonim and Acharonim, like one of the special exemplary scholars of his time].

R. Shtrashun, like most of the others who dealt with the subject, was primarily concerned with the question of the sefer’s authorship, and indeed in this regard the jury has come out strongly on the side of those who claim R. Saul produced this volume on his own. Yet, as demonstrated above, the Chida’s main interest in the provenance of the sefer was to ascertain the reliability of its content. As such, the Chida was delighted with R. Levin’syikar sahaduta – esteemed testimony, who concluded, much as R. Shtrashun was later to write, that despite some of its questionable content – for which a justifiable argument could be made in any case – the sefer on the whole was full of valuable content, and all reports to the contrary were but pum bidatta – salacious rumors.

Taken this way, R. Levin’s appraisal, enthusiastically received by the Chida, and echoed in the assessment of R. Shtrashun, may yet stand the test of time.

A Gift for Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay: On R. Yaakov Shimshon Senigallia, author of the Machshirei Pischa haggada, and his relationship with Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay,‘the Chida’.

A Gift for Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay: On R. Yaakov Shimshon Senigallia, author of the Machshirei Pischa haggada, and his relationship with Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay,‘the Chida’.

Moshe Maimon, Jackson NJ

Every antique sefer collector has his specialty. Some collect first prints, some collect classic editions and some collect the prints from a specific European press. The genres vary as well, with some focusing more on Kabbalah while others focus more on polemical literature. Yet, every collector will tell you, that each sefer has a story, and when you examine the individual characteristics of the sefer, the personalities involved with the sefer – whether it be the author or previous owner or the like – verily come alive and step off the pages to tell you their story.

One such cherished possession in the collection of a friend of mine, is the 1788 edition of the classic haggada, Pesach Me’uvin, by R. Chaim Benveniste, chief rabbi of Izmir in the tumultuous era of Sabbatean messianism and its after wake, and author of the important and voluminous halachic compendium, Kneset HaGedolah which collects and analyzes the considerable halachic literary output of the preceding centuries. Benveniste’s haggada Pesach Me’uvin, first published in Venice 1692, is likewise an important compendium of halachic rulings pertaining to Passover and the seder night, and is widely quoted in the standard halachic sources. It has since been printed many times, up to the most recent edition (Lakewood 1997) in which the manuscript glosses of R. Yaakov Emden were included. A unique feature of the first publication is that it was printed simultaneously in two editions – one containing the Sephardic rite and one containing the Ashkenazic rite.

The 1788 edition is the second edition of this haggada and it was published in Livorno (Leghorn) by a young and promising scholar from an aristocratic Italian family, R. Yaakov Shimson Shabetai Senigallia of Ancona. Along with the Pesach Me’uvin, this edition included the original work of the publisher, R. Senigallia, calledMachshirei Pischa, which continued the work of R. Benveniste concerning the laws of kashering kitchen utensils for Passover.

This would prove to be the first of many scholarly contributions by R. Senigallia, and by the time of his death in 1840 he had built up a reputation as a great scholar, as well as a pious and saintly individual, with many important publications to his credit.[1] This work too would stand the test of time, and a hundred years later, in 1889, when the Netziv of Volozhin had his own commentary on the haggada, Imrei Shefer, published in Warsaw, he had it printed together with the Pesach Me’uvin and Machshirei Pischa.

At some point during the Chida’s tenure in Livorno, R. Senigallia became personally acquainted with him,[2] and the two would maintain a friendly correspondence throughout the years. R. Senigallia would refer frequently in his writings to the Chida’s own works, always with great honorifics, and after the passing of the latter, R. Senigallia was wont to chastise a fellow rabbinic scholar when he felt not enough deference had been shown in arguing with Chida’s halachic rulings.[3]

Before presenting the Chida’s copy of R. Senigallia’s haggada, a brief summary of the surviving record of their correspondence, preserved in the Chida’s letters published by Dr. C. Rosenberg,[4] is in order. Only one actual letter to R. Senigallia from the Chida has survived (#7 p. 11), a critical edition of which is appended at the end of this article, but in his other letters the Chida often makes mention of R. Senigallia, from which we can reconstruct a partial record of their correspondence and from which we can gage the nature of the close relationship they shared.

The earliest mention of R. Senigallia is in a letter (#3 p. 7) the Chida wrote in the summer of 1787 to his erstwhile pupil and confidante, R. Yoel Camis of the Ancona Beth Din, in which he shares that he had received requests from R. Senigallia and R. Elia Nahamo, they too of Ancona, to give his haskama on the forthcoming publication of R. Senigallia’s aforementioned haggada. The Chida writes that he is unable to comply as he has already made a firm decision not to grant any haskama, and he has already had occasion to turn down many persistent entreaties from close acquaintances on account of this decision.[5 ] Concurrently, the Chida requests of R. Camis to make peaceful overtures towards the aforementioned rabbis and beg them to excuse him.

The mention of R. Senigallia in this letter is not accompanied by the terms of endearment we find in later references to him in the Chida’s letters, and perhaps we may surmise from this that they had not yet developed the close relationship they would later share. This assumption is bolstered by the fact that R. Senigallia apparently did not feel he could rely on the merit of his own relationship in approaching the Chida, and therefore turned to R. Nahamo, whose own haskama graces the sefer, for help in requesting the Chida’s haskama.[6]

Aside for the one letter in the collection addressed to R. Senigallia, the remaining references to R. Senigallia are found in the Chida’s letters to his son, R. Raphael Yeshaya Azulay, who had assumed the position of Chief Rabbi of Ancona in the summer of 1788. The Chida played an integral role in the negotiations with communal leaders to have his son elected to this position,[7] and he remained very appreciative of the efforts of the Anconians who had helped with this appointment.[8] It is difficult to ascertain if R. Senigallia had himself assisted in this matter, but the fact remains that from this point forward, he is mentioned frequently in the letters from the Chida to his son,[9] and we may rightly surmise that he had quickly become a close member of the inner circle of the new rabbi of Ancona.

Almost all of the references to R. Senigallia are in the context of the Chida’s request that his son extend warm greetings to R. Senigallia in his name, and the Chida often adds that he prays for R. Senigallia constantly. The Chida also says as much himself in his letter to R. Senigallia, where he also makes mention of his learning and praying for a few other philanthropists in Ancona as well. Likely this is indicative of the gratitude the Chida felt towards these individuals for the financial support they may have extended to the Chida,[10] and this is why the Chida wanted them to know that he was repaying his debt of gratitude.

Besides for learning and praying for the merit of his benefactors, the Chida would also honor them with his letters, and his holiday greetings to R. Senigallia in the letter to him preserved in this collection (a critically edited version of which is appended below) would seem to fit that bill perfectly.[11] Yet, the terms of endearment with which the Chida consistently refers to R. Senigallia, the) מאור עינינו our very dear beloved) and) ידידינו אהובינו such as light of our eyes), indicate clearly the genuine affection he felt for ידידינו חמודינו the latter. In one letter (#22 p. 35) he calls him חיים our very dear cherished breath of life), in which) נשמת רוח חיים meaning life, is a double entendre, also being the Chida’s first name – indicative of how important R. Senigallia was to him.

The letters also discuss other interactions the Chida had with R. Senigallia, such as the gifting to him of the Chida’s worksSha’ar Yosef (#24 p. 39) and Shem HaGedolim (#32 p. 49), or the distribution through him of other sefarim (#26 p. 43; #51 p. 67). We learn from these letters of instances (#10 p. 18; #11 p. 21) where R. Senigallia had turned to the Chida for his assistance in communal affairs, and in one case (#36 p. 53), the Chida asks his son to reply in his name regarding a request made of him by R. Senigallia for a segula needed for an acquaintance who had taken ill.[12]

All in all, this sampling serves well in painting a picture of a cordial relationship that blossomed with time and eventually became a deep and abiding friendship. At one point, their correspondence had reached a point where the Chida would become greatly distressed when too much time had elapsed without a letter from R. Senigallia (#25 p. 42), and by 1793, five years after R. Senigallia had published his Machshirei Pischa, a scant two weeks without hearing from him would give the Chida pause (#34 p. 52).

We are now in position to better appreciate the Chida’s inscription in the copy of this haggada gifted to him by R. Senigallia. We don’t know for certain when the haggada was given, but knowing of R. Senigallia’s interest in having the Chida’s recommendation on his work, it is likely that it was gifted shortly after it was published. The Chida’s apparent delight in the gift is evident in his inscription:

מתנה מנצב על הכושרים מכשירי פסחא ששי”ם ושמחים יצ”ו להצעיר חיד”א ס”ט

Loosely rendered, it reads thus (and we emphasize “loosely”, as the Chida’s melitza is not given to literal translation): “A present from the one who stands over and guides those who are kashering and readying the preparations for Pesach joyously and happily to the humble Chida”. This clever inscription incorporates the title of the sefer Machshirei Pischa (“preparations for Pesach”), the nature of the sefer (“stands over and guides those kashering”) and even the name of [joyously”).[13“) ששים the author whose initials make up the word

Evidence of the Chida’s having studied the sefer comes from his gloss on the last page of the Machshirei Pischa section where R. Senigallia references the discussion of the Safed practice for kashering baking utensils. R. Senigallia quotes the sefer Eshel Avraham (Orach Chaim 453)14 who in turn quotes the respona of R. Yosef David of Salonika, Shu”t Bet David (Salonika 1740), who discusses this practice. R. Senigallia further cites the responsa of R. Moshe Amarilio, Shu”t Dvar Moshe (#30) who he says also discusses this particular practice.

The Chida’s sharp eye, tremendous bekiut and keen bibliographical sense were on full display in his comment on this:

הוא טעה והלך אחר טעותו וברור כי במקום בי”ד שכתוב באשל אברהם צ”ל דבר משה והסי’ מוכיחים ופשוט והכותב שראה דבר משה לא הרגיש ואין להאריך

The Chida was quick to realize that by citing Shu”t Dvar Moshe as an additional source to the Bet David cited in Eshel Avraham, R. Senigallia was unwittingly duped by a typographical error in the Eshel Avraham. When the Eshel Avraham originally cited the Bet David, it was a mistake (as evidenced by the inaccurate citation), and in fact should read Dvar Moshe, which, it turns out, is the only source to discuss this practice.

I imagine that over the course of their long and fruitful correspondence, the Chida must have had occasion to bring this correction to the attention of R. Senigallia, and I imagine R. with the – ששי”ם – Senigallia must have been just as overjoyed knowledge of the Chida’s delight in his gift and his interest in the sefer, as we have been to learn all about the lives and emotions of these two great individuals as they come to life and step right off the pages of this cherished haggada.

***** [1] See the entry for R. Senigallia in R. Mordechai Shmuel Girondi’s Toldot Gedolei Yisrael (Trieste 1853, p. 158). It should be noted that the list of publications there is scant compared with the fuller listing in Dr. C. Rosenberg’s Igrot M’Harav Chida (Budapest 1927, pp. 11-12). It should be further noted that some of the titles listed in R. Girondi’s work as manuscripts, such as Yaakov L’chok and Shomer Shabbat, had actually been published earlier together with other works of R. Senigallia. For a complete bibliography of his works, in print and in manuscript, see the entry for R. Senigallia in Asher Salah’s Le Republique Des Lettres, Brill 2001, p. 617. [2] One meeting is recorded by R. Senigallia in his responsa, Meged Shamayim, Livorno 1844, p. 22a, in which R. Senigallia remembers debating the Chida with regards to a problematic text inShu”t Rashbash. This meeting is said to have take place twenty years before the writing of this responsum, though the responsum is undated and all we know is that it was written after the Chida’s passing in 1806. Presumably, R. Senigallia was in Livorno for the 1788 printing of Machshirei Pischa, and perhaps that is when he met with the Chida, though there is no way to know for certain. R. Avraham Tikotzky writes in his preface to the Jerusalem 1986 edition of R. Senigallia’s Matan B’seter – Niddah (p. 10) that the Chida never met with R. Senigallia in person save for the one time when the Chida saw R. Senegallia as a No source is given for this .(כשהחיד”א ראה את רבינו בעודו בחור) youth contention, and this is hardly evident from the aforementioned source in Meged Shamayim.

Despite the more than 200 miles separating Ancona on Italy’s east coast and Livorno on her west coast, it is likely that over the course of the Chida’s twenty six or so years in Livorno the two had more than one occasion to meet up, either in Livorno or Ancona. This is all the more likely when we consider that the Chida’s eldest son served as Chief Rabbi in Ancona from 1788 and on, and on at least one occasion, in the summer of 1791, the Chida did make the journey to Ancona to visit with him (See letter 22 on p. 34 and Dr. Rosenberg’s note there, see also p. 12 fn. 3 where he surmises the Chida’s wife, whose warm regards for R. Senigallia’s wife are expressed in the Chida’s letter to him, owed her acquaintance with Mrs. Senigallia to this visit). [3] See Meir Benayahu’s biography: Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay (Jerusalem, 1959 pp. 122-123, the reference in Asher Salah’s aforementioned bibliography to pp. 112-113 in this book should be corrected). [4] Hatzofeh L’Chochmat Yisrael, Vol. 11 (Budapest 1927, pp. 241-309). This collection has likewise been printed in a separate pamphlet, also in Budapest 1927 (available here), and the references to this work in the present article follow the pagination in this pamphlet. [5] The Chida emphasizes this point with the followingmelitzah This phrase which is .ואין לדרוש בקל וחומר כי אם בגזרה שוה :(wordplay) a spinoff of the Talmudic phrase found in Pesachim (66a) and elsewhere .has been explained by Dr (דאין אדם דן גזירה שוה מעצמו אלא קל וחומר) Rosenberg in a footnote to mean that Chida’s refusal to grant haskamot was on account of his humility; he did not want to appear important but rather wished to be viewed ,(קל) at the expense of others (חמור) .(שוה) as an equal

Whether this is indeed the Chida’s rationale for withholding his haskamot is debatable (and Benayahu in his biography (pp. 96-97) has made the convincing case that there must have been other factors as well), but it is clear that Dr. Rosenberg, who in any event had little appreciation for the melitzah of the Chida (as per his own comments in the introduction to his edition of Igrot), missed the innuendo in this melitzah as well. In this context, it is clear that what the Chida with some (חמור) meant to say was that he does not want to be strict but rather must ,(קל) requests for haskamot and lenient with others שוה).) to everyone equally (גזרה) apply his decision 6]] Benayahu writes in his biography (p. 97) that R. Senigallia had turned to R. Camis for help in obtaining the haskama, but this is a mistake and should say R. Nahamo in place of R. Camis, as is evident from the above quoted letter. R. Tikotzky, who seems unaware of Dr. Rosenberg’s edition of Igrot, shows his hand when he writes in his preface to the Jerusalem 1986 edition of R. Senigallia’s Matan B’seter כשעמד רבינו להדפיס בשנת תקמ”ז את הספר “פסח מעובין” :(Niddah (p. 10 – עם הוספותיו בשם “מכשירי פסחא” הכולל דיני ליבון והגעלה, ביקש מחברו ר’ יואל חמיץ מאנקוה (צ”ל אנקונה) כי ישפיע על החיד”א שיתן הסכמה לספר. 7]] See the documents detailed by Benayahu in his biography from p. 504 and on. Some important documents from this episode are reproduced, transcribed and translated in R. Dessler’s Shnot Dor V’dor vol. 2 (Jerusalem 2004, pp. 71-98). [8] Cf. Dr. Rosenberg’s comments on p. 18 fn. 5. [9] He is mentioned in 15 out of the 47 letters the Chida wrote to his son in this collection (they are: #10,11,22,24,25,26,32,33,34,36,37,40,45,46,51).

,סי’ ר’ יעקב According to Dr. Rosenberg, the additional mention of among the addressees to whom the Chida mailed letters from Firenze (listed in a 1791 letter to his son, #23 p. 37), is none other than our R. Senigallia, however I am inclined to doubt that on account of the fact that the Chida always refers to him by the name or initials which ,כמה”ח and also always preceded with the honorific ,יעקב שבתי of contra Dr. Rosenberg p. 67 fn. 5). More) כבוד מורנו החכם stands for who was one סי’ יעקב is to be identified with סי’ ר’ יעקב likely, this of the wealthy patrons of the community mentioned in letter #24 (p. ,Signor), a respectful title for a layperson) ’סי as the title ,(39 would suggest. [10] Among the Chida’s personal effects, we find a paper published in Benayahu’s biography (pp. 466-467) containing the Chida’s accounting of income for the year 1781, among which are listed several entries of subsidies he had received from various philanthropists. From what we can glean from the Chida’s correspondence, these subsidies most likely took the form of sponsorships for the Chida’s prolific sefarim output (cf. p. 38 fn. 2; p. 48 fn. 1 – the reference there to letter #23 should be corrected to #24; see also #34 pp. 51-52). [11] Cf. #46 p. 63 where the Chida writes to his son informing him of the letter he had penned to R. Senigallia, along with that of another patron, and also asks him to deliver the letters and to elaborate on them on his own in order to compensate for the brevity of these letters. [12] Interestingly, none of our letters are indicative in any way of a scholarly correspondence between the two, and I know of no basis for the claim put forth by R. Tikotzky in his preface to the Jerusalem בין :(edition of R. Senigallia’sMatan B’seter – Niddah (p. 10 1986 החיד”א לרבינו נסבו בדרך כלל המכתבים מענייני הלכה ופלפול, אך אף בענייני קבלה החליפו מכתבים ביניהם, והחיד”א אף כותב לבנו, כי שלח קמיעות רבות Our rabbi and the Chida generally) לאנקונה מקום מושבו של רבינו corresponded in pipulistic and Halachic matters, however they also corresponded in kabbalistic matters, and in fact, the Chida even writes to his son of the many kemayas he had sent to Ancona where our rabbi resided). As far as I can tell, the only kernel of truth in this flight of fancy is the (one and only) kemaya the Chida sent to R. Senigallia, mentioned in his letter to him, and referenced in various letters to the son; however this kemaya was not intended for R. Senigallia at all, but to be used as an amulet for an ailing patron, and in any event says nothing about any supposed kabbalistic dealings between the two rabbis. for the last name, for מ This is so because the Chida uses [13] Although on the title page the last name is spelled .מסיניגאליא from), the name indicates that the) מ without the prefix סיניגאליא family hailed from the city of Senigallia, and our rabbi sometimes such as on the title page of hisAbir ,מ spells it himself with the Yaakov (Pisa 1811). [14] This is the work of R. Avraham Oppenheim first published in Amsterdam 1769 and printed in the margin of most editions of the Shulchan Aruch, and should not be confused with the similarly named work by R. Avraham David Wahrman of Butchatch, whose ownEshel Avraham, found in the back of contemporary editions of the Shulchan Aruch, was first printed in 1889, a hundred years after the Machshirei Pischa. I note this because there appears to be some confusion about this, and even the tremendously helpful Sefaria website has the former sefer listed under the authorship of the latter.

ADDENDUM:

העתק מכתבו של הרחיד”א לר’ יעקב שמשון סיניגאליא ע”פ צילום כת”י[15]5

ב”ה ער”ח ניסן תקנ”ה[16]6

ידידנו ואהובינו חכם לב איש חסיד[17] כמהח“ר יעקב שמשון סיניגאליאה[18] יצ”ו נר”ו ונתתי ש'[19] בארש[20]. מקוצר רוח ממה שעברתי אברים קודמין[21] יעברו חלוש‘ים[22] ודחקתי לכתוב

שתי אותיות בפרו”ס הפסח[23] כפור”ס מן החיים[24] סוכת ש’ ולברך שמו הטוב ולכל אשר באהלי יעקב

יחוגו הג הפסח לחיי“טם ט‘ ולש’ ובעושר וכבוד ושמחה רבה כי”ר

מעיד אני עלי שמים וארץ כי ברוב הימים אני מברך שמו ושם אהוב ונחמד סי’ ש”םמ יצ”ו

וסי’ יש”ע יצ”ו ואני לומד איזה ד”ת לשם יש”ע וכה יאמר להם ושלחתי הקמיעאה ליד יש”ע

על יד יאו”ר לי[25] הבן יקיר נר”ו. מצד נ”ב להגברת נ”ב מ’ ש”ר ולהבנים היקרים אצוה את ברכתי

ברכת הדיוט. לגיסיו האהובים יצ”ו ש”ר. לכל שואל בש’ ש”ר. ואני תפלה הצעיר וזעיר

מתפלל בעדו תמיד

חיד”א ס”ט

אהובינו סי’ יש”ע יצ”ו יעלה עלי

הכתוב כאן כאלו לו לבת נתנת הארש וש‘

בספריית בית המדרש לרבנים מספר 5397 (ניתן להוריד צילומו כאן, .15 והמכתב מופיע בעמ’ 18 בתדפיף). המכתב נדפס ע”פ כתה”י ע”י ח’ רוזנברג בספרו ‘אגרות מהרב חיד”א’ (בתדפיס מיוחד מתוך ‘הצופה לחכמת ישראל’ שנה יא, בודפסט תרפ”ז, עמ’ 11-12, ניתן לצפות בו כאן). העתקתו של רוזנברג לקויה בחסרות ויתרות (לרוב בלתי משמעויות) שתוקנו כאן בגוון אדום. תודתי נתונה בזה למכובדי הרב .שלמה דיין נר”ו שעזר על ידי בפיענוח כתה”י באותו יום ערך מכתב לבנו (אגרות מהד’ רוזנברג עמ’ 62-63), ובין .16 הדברים כתב לו אודות מכתבו הנוכחי להריש”ש סיניגאליא: “בדוחק אני כותב שתי שורות לסי’ ש”ם וכמהחרי”ש הי”ו נא לתתם בידם וישלח דברו .”להשלים ולגמור חסרי אני משער שתואר זה, הבנוי כנראה על לשון הכתוב במשלי (יא:יז) .17 ‘גומל נפשו איש חסד’ (וממנו בפיוט יגדל ‘גומל לאיש חסד כמפעלו’) מרמז על חסדו של הריש”ש סיניגליה שתיווך בין הרחיד”א להגבירים הנרמזים במכתב זה ושכנראה התפרנס הרחיד”א מהם באיזה שהוא אופן (מן הסתם ע”י התרמתם להדפסת ספריו), ולכן חש הרחיד”א כלפיהם יחס של גומלים, והוא מברך את שמם ולומד ומתפלל בעדם. להגביר האחד ‘ש”ם’ ערך הרחיד”א מכתב נוסף באותו יום כנזכר באגרתו בהערה הקודמת, ולהגביר השני ‘יש”ע’ שלא ערך לו מכתב בפני עצמו (אולי מפני חולשת בריאותו) הוסיף שתי שורות הנכתבות להלן בסוף המכתב (המועתקות כאן לראשונה) להודיע לו שיקרא אגרת זו הנוכחית כאילו שהיא נכתבה אליו .בעצמו לא הרגיש המעתיק שנשמר הרחיד”א מלכתוב האותיות יו”ד וה”א ברצף .18 ממדת חסידות, ולכן יש שאף שינה וכתב אל”ף במקום ה”א כמו ‘יאודה’ במקום ‘יהודה’, וכן אצל שם בנו הר”ר רפאל ישעיה נהג לפעמים לכתוב ‘ישעיא’ כנראה מצילומי הכתיב שע”ג המטעפות בתוך קובץ כתה”י, ואולם .המעתיק העתיק תמיד ‘ישעיה’ באין מבין קיצור ל’שלום’ (וכזה תמצא עוד שבע פעמים להלן), וכבר בספרו ברכי .19 יוסף (או”ח פה:ח) צידד הרחיד”א כשיטת האומרים ששלום הוא מן השמות .שאינן נמחקין ואשר אין לכותבן באגרות שלומים מליצה ע”פ לשון הכתוב (ויקרא כו:ו) ‘ונתתי שלום בארץ’, ונשתמש בה .20 הרחיד”א בעוד כמה אגרות, ור”ל הנני מקדם פניך בדיבור (ארש) של .שלום מליצה ע”פ לשון חז”ל שאנו אומרים בתפלה כל יום בסדר המערכה, .21 ובפירושו כתב ר’ חנניה חביב אזולאי בהערה לאגרות הרחיד”א מהד’ רוזנברג (עמ’ 44) ש’קודמין’ ר”ל החליים הישנים שבאיברי גופו, ואולם לדידי חזי לי שהכוונה לאברים שבחלק הקדימה שבגוף כמו האיצטומכא, שכן סבל הרחיד”א בימים אלו הרבה מחולי המעים כנזכר .באגרתו מט”ו אדר בשנה זו (עמ’ 61) ע”ש מליצה ע”פ לשון הכתוב בבמדבר (לב:ל) ‘יעברו חלוצים’. על חולשת .22 אבריו והתרופפות מצב בריאותו בימים אלו, ראה אשר כתב הרחיד”א באגרת לבנו באותו יום (עמ’ 63): “שם כתבתי כי הא גופא קשיא וכאבי נעכר ועתה רווח פורתא שאין הענין בחוזק כאשר היה ה’ ירפאני רפואה שלמה”. ואולם למרבה הצער תקוותיו של הרחיד”א להחלמה גמורה לא התגשמו, ראה אשר כתב אח”כ באגרת לבנו (אגרות מהד’ רוזנברג עמ’ 13): “נהייתי ונחליתי יותר מחודש וכל הפסח לא יכולתי לילך אפילו .”לישיבה ועד האידנא חייך הידיד לא איפרק מחולשא חמשה עשר יום לפני הפסח נקרא פרוס הפסח בלשון המשנה (שקלים ג:א), .23 ומליצת הרחיד”א רומזת שהוא פורס בשלומו בפרוס הפסח (שכן נכתב .(המכתב ער”ח ניסן כנזכר בתאריך מליצה ע”פ לשון הגמ’ בקידושין (סו:): “אמר ליה ר’ טרפון: עקיבא כל .24 הפורש ממך כפורש מן החיים”, והכוונה כאן ש’חיים’ (שמו הפרטי של .הרחיד”א) מבקש שיפרוס סוכת שלומו של הנמען מליצה שגורה בפי הרחיד”א לבנו בכורו ר’ רפאל ישעיה אב”ד אנקונה, .25 המכילה ר”ת של שמו (י-שעיה א-זולאי ר-פאל), וכאן היא בנויה על לשון הכתוב בשמות (ב:ה): ‘על יד היאור’, וביחזקאל (כט:ג): ‘לי יאורי

Review of My Father’s Journey by Sara Reguer

Review of My Father’s Journey by Sara Reguer (Academic Studies Press, 2015)

By Moshe Maimon About a year ago, Seforim Blog readers were informed by Prof. Marc Shapiro of the publication of Sara Reguer’s book My Father’s Journey, and they were further advised that this book would be of great value to anyone interested in the history of the movement and Eastern European orthodoxy (see here). The following review illustrates the contribution the book indeed makes to these fields of study. This basis of this memoir is essentially a diary which affords readers a very intimate view into the mind of a Lithuanian yeshiva student in the period between the two World Wars. Interspersed between the pages of this fascinating document is a fair amount of interesting yeshiva lore, including little-known facts about prominent Torah personalities contemporaneous with the author’s father. In highlighting some of these passages, I hope to give the reader a sense of the value of this work, while also calling attention to certain historical facts that might enhance the reader’s understanding. The book, based on a Hebrew memoir by Dr. Moshe Aharon Reguer, son of the famed Brisker dayan, R. Simcha Zelig Rieger,[1] is translated and supplemented with additional material culled from interviews conducted with Dr. Regeur by his daughter, Prof. Sara Reguer, and from family lore she preserved. Additionally, it is bolstered by her insightful comments filling in detail and providing background. To avoid confusion, different fonts have been employed to represent the different sources. The translated text of the memoir appears in italics, the interviews in plain script, and Prof. Reguer’s comments in bold typeface. This arrangement is helpful in distinguishing between the actual memoir, written by Moshe Aharon Reguer as a young adult in 1926, and the remaining material that relates to a later period in his life. Dr. Reguer wrote his memoir from the perspective of a young man poised at an important crossroads in life. As the narrative moves into his later years, the story takes on a nostalgic, backward-looking tinge. Prof. Reguer deftly weaves the diverse sources that capture these epochs into a beautifully coherent story. Here I might suggest that care should have been taken to more clearly distinguish the places where the written memoir “pauses” to include later reminiscences by the author obviously not part of the original document. One example is the references to dates and events after 1926,[2] the year of the composition of the original memoir. There is no documentation for these comments which are printed together with the text of the original memoir. In some instances these secondary sources recount events already recorded in the memoir with occasional variations; to arrive at a clear understanding of what actually happened, the reader would benefit by being able to differentiate between the various sources. Take for example Moshe Aharon’s account of his farher (matriculation exam) in the Slutzker yeshiva. First, from p. 65: So I went to Slutzk and the Slutzker Rav Isser Zalman with Rav , his son in law, hired a teacher for me: Rav Shach (who is now famous in Ponovezh), who was then known as the Vabulniker”. We stayed together in an inn and he learned with me, and after a short time he went to Rav Aharon and Rav Isser Zalman and told them “I don’t wan’t to take any money – he doesn’t need a teacher!” So Rav Aharon said: “so, he doesn’t need any help and can learn alone?” and he took out a gemara, Bava Kamma 76, where there are two lines of gemara and a huge tosfot, and he told me to prepare it alone. I did it in a few hours, and I knew it, and he said: “you do not need a teacher!” at eleven years old! The editor has already pointed out that the author came to Slutzk only after his bar mitzvah; consequently he was actually thirteen years old at the time, not eleven.[3] As we will soon see, the above-mentioned scenario is fraught with additional chronological inconsistencies. Compare it with the following incident on p. 84 which seems to be referring to an event that took place the following winter, more than a year later that the author’s given date: Until mid-winter, I studied with the student Babulnikai, but one day the son in law of Rav Isser Zalman, Rav Aharon Pines, theilui of Sabislovitz, called me and on his own assigned me a “kri’a” – a group of gemara with all the commentaries, which I was to read and then be tested on. I remember that the “sugya” was in Baba Kama, p. 10. He set a deadline at which point I came to be tested. I knew the entire sugya backwards and forwards, and on the test I performed so well in both breadth and depth that Rav Aharon Pines ordered that I should study alone. This announcement made a strong impression on the yeshiva, especially on the younger students, because it was a tradition that even the best students were never told at such a young age – fifteen – to study alone without help or supervision. The core of the story is the same: young Moshe Aharon learned under the tutelage of an older, more advanced student (R. Shach)[4] until such time as a thorough test, administered by R. Aharon Kotler (Pines),[5] revealed that he was adept at independent study, and was encouraged thereafter to learn on his own. Yet other important details are different, including the identities of the parties. In the first version R. Shach initiates the test, while in the second version R. Aharon takes the initiative “on his own”. In the first version, the subject matter is an extremely difficult passage comprising one of the longest Tosfos in Shas, while in the second; it entails the knowledge of a complex but more conventional sugya. The most glaring discrepancy is the timing of this event: while the first version portrays this as having occurred within a short while after his arrival in yeshiva, the second version has it more than a year later – when the author was already fifteen years old. Which version is the true version? The clue to unraveling the many discrepancies lies in the author’s parenthetical remark on p. 65 identifying R. Shach as the “who is now famous in Ponovezh.” This comment belies the fact that the passage was not included in the original document written in 1926 (when the young R. Shach was entirely unknown), but rather dates to a later time period, at least 30 years later, and likely some 40 some odd years after the events they describe. Taking this into account it is not difficult to surmise that the later version is actually the original version and likely the more authoritative one inasmuch as it was written closer to the events they describe. The events were quite possibly conflated in the author’s mind when he recounted tales of his youth later in life, and that would likely account for the discrepancies in the details. People do not necessarily intend to set down the historical record in their reminiscences, and the mind has a way of selectively remembering events without explicit attention to historical accuracy – particularly when aided by the haze of nostalgia. Certainly there can be no blame in that; it is the job of the editor to point out what material was penned for the record and that which was recounted later in other contexts. Here is another interesting tidbit recounted by the author that has likely been blurred by nostalgic reminiscence, and should not be taken as historically accurate. Regarding the closing of the Volozhin yeshiva in 1892, in the course of an interview (pp. 29-30) the author recounts an original version of the events leading up to it: In those days the yeshiva was closed because one of the students massered (informed) and wrote a letter signing the name of the Netziv, and in a second letter he wrote that the Netziv is a spy and all the students are spies in Volozhin, and the reason why he sent this is because – father told me – when he came in on Yom Kippur, the Netziv recognized that he had eaten, which was true, and he came over and gave him a slap in the face in the presence of everybody. And this he couldn’t stand and he massered on the yeshiva, and they sent soldiers from Vilna and they surrounded the yeshiva and they asked, “where is the Netziv?” and they showed the Netziv the letter, and asked if it was his signature, and he said, “yes it is my signature”. But at the trial in Vilna he recognized that this was a forgery because in all of his letters, after he wrote “Netziv”, he never made a dot and this was with a dot. And they believed him and he was free, but they officially closed the yeshiva. The editor concedes that there are other versions to the story, and refers the reader to the attendant literature, but grants that this is another variant. However, it is readily apparent that here too, two different episodes – the story of the informant and the story of the closing of the yeshiva – have been inadvertently blended. In reality, they had nothing to do with each other. The story of the informant has been supplied by the son of the Netziv, R. Meir Bar-Ilan, in his [מוואלאזין עד ירושלים,[classic memoir 6 רבן ,as well as in the biography he wrote on his father There we are told that the episode occurred a few [של ישראל.[7 years before the Great Fire; a catastrophe which struck Volozhin in the summer of 1886. The closing of the Yeshiva, on the other hand, didn’t occur until 1892. It is also apparent that some of the details of the episode are more reliably preserved in R. Bar-Ilan’s recounting, who also preserves the identity of the addressee in the forged letter, one R. Yaakov Reinowitz of London. In his account the charge brought against the Netziv was not that of espionage, but rather that of dealing in counterfeit currency, and unlike in Dr. Reguer’s version, the clever detection of the forgery was brought to light with the נפתלי צביהודה evidence that the Netziv signed his name as the first letter צבי by using the last letter of [יהודה,[of 8 a detail which the forger was not scrupulous in copying.[9] Additional information has come to light in the discovery of other letters written by the Netziv to this very R. Yaakov Reinowitz.[10] R. Reinowitz, who served as a dayyan on London’s beit din, was close to the Netziv and would assist him with the raising of finances for the yeshiva.[11] Apparently the forger was aware of this individual’s connection with the Netziv, as well as his financial involvement with the yeshiva, and therefore chose to address the letter to R. Reinowitz to make it seem more authentic. Among R. Reinowitz’ papers are some 40 letters from the Netziv, including two which have been described thus: In 1879 Rabbi Berlin informed Reinowitz that officials of the Russian government had searched the documents and correspondence of the yeshiva and taken away ‘all my correspondence with you’ – the reason being that ‘a vile person forged a letter of a secret nature which I am supposed to have sent to you’. In his next letter Rabbi Berlin said that the correspondence was returned after a few hours and that nothing untoward happened except that they had a big fright.[12] When seen together it is clear the Netziv is referring here to the aforementioned episode. These letters indicate that the event happened in 1879, a fact now conclusively proven with the availability of the Russian government’s file on the episode,[13] and in fact had no direct effect on the subsequent closure of the Volozhin yeshiva some thirteen years later (although the involvement of the government in the internal affairs almost certainly did contribute in the long run).” Here is a photo of Rabbi Reinowitz:

As to the identity of the culprit, R. Meir Bar-Ilan indicates that it was never proven conclusively. He cites several theories; including a report not unlike the one cited by our author in the name of R. Simcha Zelig, namely that it was the student who had been chastised for his Yom-Kippur indiscretions. This seems to have been the predominant theory; in R. Bar-Ilan’s recounting of the episode in his aforementioned biography, this is the only version presented. This is also the ר’ version recorded by R. Moshe Shmuel Shmukler-Shapiro in his [משה שמואל ודורו,[14 where he even identifies the student who was chastised, and the year when the event occurred (1878). (Interestingly, according to R. Shmukler-Shapiro’s version, this student didn’t perpetrate the forgery himself, although his humiliation at the hands (or better, hand) of the Netziv was the catalyst for the subsequent act of revenge). Further, in the above account, R. Simcha Zelig’s report has the student eating on Yom Kippur. According to R. Bar-Ilan, however, the nature of the student’s sin was appearing late to the prayers after having evidently bathed and combed his hair on the day of Yom-Kippur. Also noteworthy is the fact that R. Bar-Ilan mentions only that his father had angrily chastised the errant student but does not reveal, as does R. Simcha Zelig, that he had done so with a public and humiliating slap to the face. In this regard, R. Simcha Zelig’s version is also confirmed by R. Moshe [ר’ משה שמואל ודורו,[Shmuel Shmukler-Shapiro in his 15 although the student’s sin is described therein in accordance with R. Bar-Ilan’s version. It seems reasonable to me to assume that R. Bar-Ilan, out of concern for his father’s honor, knowingly softened the story and omitted mention of the slap in order to cushion the Netziv’s reputation in the eyes of the modern and westernized reader. Another bit of family lore, recounted by Prof. Reguer on pp. 30-31, includes the legendary tale of R. Simch Zelig’s sagacious advice to the townspeople of Brisk, saying that in order to spare themselves from the damaging exploits of a wild first- born goat, it would be providential if the animal were to come to injury and thereafter be permitted for slaughter. The townspeople then organized a chase which resulted in the goat injuring its shoulder while attempting to escape, rendering it unfit for ritual sacrifice and henceforth permitted for slaughter. This episode sounds too similar to an episode recounted by Dr. Reguer himself in 1973 in a letter to the editor of [הדרום[the journal 16 to dismiss as a coincidence. The incident referred to there was a cause célèbre in Volzhin and was the source of a halakhic dispute between the two Rosh Yeshivas at the time, the Beis Halevi and the Netziv. Dr. Reguer writes: את הדברים כפשוטם שמעתי בילדותי מפי אבי מורי זצ”ל הרב הגאון ר’ שמחה זעליג, הראב”ד בבריסק דליטא, וכך היו הדברים: ליהודי אחד בוולוז’ין היה בכור תיש, ומכיון לאחר שגדל דרכו היה להזיק, מסר יהודי זה את התיש לרשות הכהן, כדי שיוכל להנות מן התיש. הכהן העניק לילדים מעדנים והם רדפו אחרי התיש וערכו לו ציד בבית הקברות הנמצא במורד העיר. כאשר קפץ התיש מעל גדר התיל של בית הקברות נפצע ונמצא מסורס. ואז פרצה המחלוקת מכיון שהכהן היה הגורם למעשה סירוס זה. This version is also not without its ambiguities,[17] but unless we are to assume that these are two separate incidents, it is clear that the episode in question happened in Volozhin, and not in Brisk, and it is equally clear that R. Simcha Zelig was just the source for the story, but was not actually an active participant in this episode. As mentioned, there are a number of valuable first-hand accounts of important pre-war Torah figures, most prominent among them: father of the memoirist and famed dayan of Brisk, R. Simcha Zelig Rieger, who was renowned as one of Lithuania’s foremost halakhic authorities until his tragic martyrdom in the Holocaust. In a manner characteristic of biographies written by close family members who make no attempt to portray their subjects as larger-than-life,[18] Moshe Aharon’s memoir, particularly the correspondence and photographs he includes, provides us with a close-up glimpse into this scholar’s saintly life.[19] The book opens a window on the terrible hardships he had to endure throughout his life, and we can surmise the tremendous spiritual fortitude and determination he must have possessed in order to cope with his hard lot. Poverty and illness, compounded by having a married daughter living with her family in his home were part of R. Simcha Zelig’s daily tribulations, yet this saintly man utters no word of complaint. Even after suffering the humiliating experience of having his beard forcibly removed by the Soviets at the beginning of the Second World War, in a most harrowing encounter from which he only narrowly escaped with his life, R. Simcha Zelig had just this to say to his son: “we are all well” (p. 227). Nothing deterred R. Simcha Zelig from his unfailing dedication to his life’s ideal of learning and teaching – not even the tragedy of losing children to illness, nor the intense pain of watching the defection of most of his adult children from their religious upbringing to a life of communism and socialism. In the face of it all, this humble genius continued unfailingly on his path, giving of himself unselfishly to anyone who needed him. While many biographies of gedolim tend to omit any references to wayward children, the correspondence included in this memoir, and especially the attendant analysis thereof, introduces the reader to the whole Reguer family. One can readily appreciate the extent to which R. Simcha Zelig went to maintain fatherly relations with all of his children – to the point of addressing his letters to every child and spouse, and even their infant children, by name. Prof. Reguer highlights this tendency in her comments (p. 191), and further makes the astute observation that in these instances R. Simcha Zelig is careful to append the customary only to the names of the religious שתחיה or שיחיה salutation relatives; however, no explanation is given for this interesting behavior. Since this appendage is merely a blessing for long life, and is not indicative of one’s social or religious standing, it therefore strikes me as somewhat odd that R. Simcha Zelig, who went out of his way to show fatherly care and affection to these children, would omit this blessing in connection with them. Perhaps R. Simcha Zelig was only being sensitive to the irreligious outlook of those of his children who having broken with tradition would not appreciate this customary, religiously inspired, prayer on their behalf. The family background is also instrumental in helping us understand how R. Simcha Zelig was able to countenance Moshe Aharon’s transition from the traditional Lithuanian yeshivas to the modern and Zionistic Tachkemoni yeshivas of Bialystock and Warsaw. Although the Talmudic departments in these yeshivas were headed by Brisker protégés of R. Simcha Zelig, namely the Iluy of Meicheit, R. Shlomo Polatchek, and R. Moshe Soloveitchik, they were by and large considered to be beyond the pale in the traditional Lithuanian yeshiva world.[20] In fact, according to Dr. Reguer (p. 147), R. Chaim of Brisk had actually sought R. Simcha Zelig’s help in dissuading R. Moshe Soloveitchik from accepting a position at Tachkemoni. This transition eventually saw Moshe Aharon pursue an academic career first in Palestine[21] and later in America (a move which was to eventually spare him from the ravages of the Holocaust). While a letter from Moshe Aharon’s brother in law (p. 232) indicates that R. Simcha Zelig was unaware as to the secular nature of these studies, there can be no doubt that the author is correct in surmising (p. 145) that R. Simcha Zelig’s acquiescence to Moshe Aharon’s desire to pursue secular studies was a direct result of the outcome his earlier chinuch approach had had on Moshe Aharon’s older brothers. Besides for his grandfather, the author was also privileged to study under various other great Torah personalities including the Alter of Slabodka (R. ), R. , R. Aharon Kotler, R. and the dynamic young Rosh of Karilov, R. Yechezkel of Trestina. The latter was later to become famous in his capacity as Rosh Yeshiva in the preparatory mesivta in Slabodka and his well known by the title of his work Divrei Yechezkel, a classic work of lomdus in the yeshiva world. Yet, precious little is known about the Karilov chapter in his life,[22] and this memoir, with its focus on the Karilov yeshiva, provides a valuable contribution to his biography. Special attention may be drawn to the lauditory description of his personality, as well as the unique relationship he shared with his students. Of particular interest is the depiction of the inspirational late-night hashkafa sessions he often held with his students (pp. 111-114).[23] Inasmuch as most people today know him only as R. Yechezkel Berstein,[24] or, as mentioned, by the title of his work Divrei Yechezkel, it would be beneficial to have that had the connection drawn out in the book. The book contains various other tidbits concerning many of these personalities which readers will certainly find interesting. However, it is worth pointing out the difficulty involved in identifying them as sometimes various colloquialism are used in referring to these people. The difficulty is often exacerbated by the different spellings employed for some of these names. We have already seen that R. Shach has alternately been referred to as ‘the Vabulniker’ and ‘the student Babulnikai’. Apparently, וואבולניקי in the Hebrew original, the author had spelled באבולניקאי which he pronounced orally as ‘Vabulniki’ – as – which was transliterated as ‘Babulnikai’. Similarly R. Aharon Kotler has been called R. Aharon Pines, ‘R. Aharon of Svislovitzch’ and ‘the Iluy of Sabislovitch’. R. Shlomo Heiman too, is alternately referred to as ‘Rav Shlomo Heiman Ha-pritizi’ or ‘Rav Shlomo of Poritz’. Compounding the problem is the fact that each name is listed separately in the index, and instances where only the colloquialism is used without a last name are often not included. Perhaps this is because the index was produced with electronic search engines according to spelling and therefore did not combine various entries for one person when the spelling was different. Yet, what this gains in expedience and convenience is offset by the frustration one encounters when trying to search for references using a last name which doesn’t appear in all the occurrences. (I might add that it also makes for the inclusion of some unorthodox entries, such as ‘Sha’agat, Arye’). If this book is republished it may be prudent for the sake of uniformity to streamline the names and titles used throughout the book. Similarly, care should be taken in the phonetic spelling רב דמתא of other Hebraic phrases such as (meaning the rabbi of the city) which has been spelled as ‘Rav Damta’ on p. 105, and thus appears to be someone’s name. The author’s acquaintance with the Alter of Slabodka began when Moshe Aharon first joined the Slabodka yeshiva, which was then in Kremenchug during its exile during the First Word War. At the time, young Moshe Aharon was duly impressed by the Alter’s sagacious personality, but later this perception is tarnished somewhat, and at the end of the memoir he blames the Alter’s high-handed (und unfair) method in dealing with those whom he suspected of having secular leanings for his ultimate decision to leave the mussar world cultivated by the Slabodka yeshiva. One can’t help but wonder if this perception of theAlter wasn’t colored by the author’s own negative experience, fresh at the time of the writing. Perhaps with the the passage of time and the benefit of hindsight, as well as nostalgia, Moshe Aharon may have come to see things differently. One thing that stands out about his description of the Alter is that he calls him ‘a great scholar’ (p. 95). In Slabodka’s heyday at the turn of the century, owing largely to the Alter’s secretive ways and mysterious habits, this facet of his personality was not common knowledge and different students had different reads on it. R. Yaakov Kamenetzky was convinced that the Alter was indeed a great lamdan and scholar, while in a recent blog post Professor Marc Shapiro has quoted R. Yehiel Ya’akov Weinberg’s opinion to the contrary.[25] It seems that about 15 years later, with the passage of time, the Alter’s reputation as a superior talmid chacham had firmly taken root. One personality that is conspicuously under-represented in the book is the Brisker Rav, R. Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik (as well as, to a lesser extent, his brother R. Moshe). The Rieger and Soloveitchik family lived under the same roof in a multi- family dwelling owned by the Kehilla, and R. Simcha Zelig was exceptionally close with his own rebbe, R. Chaim of Brisk, as well as R. Chaim’s sons, R. Moshe and R. Yitzchak Zev. In fact, from a reference in a letter from R. Simcha Zelig to the author, printed at the end of the book (p. 197), it seems R. Simcha Zelig would exchange annual Rosh Hashana greetings with R. Moshe, as well as his son R. Joseph Ber – that is, the famed Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik of – long after the two had emigrated from Europe to America. The relevant portion of the letter reads: I wrote a Rosh Hashana greeting to R. Moshe Azaliion [?] as I write every year and I wrote to R. Moshe’s son a Rosh Hashana greeting and nothing came back to me as usually did each year. Perhaps I don’t have their correct updated address. Perhaps they moved. Careful examination of the facsimile of the original letter, reproduced on p. 198, reveals that Azaliion ’אזויא‘ is a mistaken transcription of the Yiddish (meaning ‘just like’) and is not part of R. Moshe’s name. This leads me to believe that R. Simcha Zelig is referring to R. Moshe Soloveitchik, as well as his son R. Joseph Ber who also enjoyed a relationship with R. Simcha Zelig, having received from him a personal smicha, as well as various halakhic traditions. In a passage interpolated into the memoir on p. 45, Moshe Aharon acknowledges this fact and mentions that he asked the Rav’s son (I assume this means R. Joseph Ber’s son, Prof. Haym Soloveitchik) for a transcript of these traditions.[26] Perhaps Moshe Aharon did not enjoy the same relationship with the Brisker Rav as did his father, possibly on account of the Brisker Rav’s , whom Moshe Aharon considered a difficult woman (p. 67). Later in the book, R. Simcha Zelig’s correspondence with his son reveals that Moshe Aharon also had some sort of altercation with R. Chaim’s older son, R. Moshe (p. 223). The editor surmises that this was on account of R. Moshe having left the Tachkemoni yeshiva, where Moshe Aharon was studying, before the latter could receivesmicha from R. Moshe. This seems like somewhat of a stretch, and although we may never know the real reason behind it, to me the ambiguous phrase that R. Simcha Zelig writes in an effort to persuade his son to drop the fight: “you do not know a family without opportunities” (p. 220), lends itself to the interpretation that at stake was some sort of position for which Moshe Aharon may have been jockeying for at the time when both found themselves employed by Yeshiva College. On a final note: as mentioned before, the original memoir was written in Hebrew and the published edition is an English translation of the original. While the translation on a whole is an excellent one, and results in a fluid compelling read, there are also readers who might enjoy reading the original and would appreciate the biblical and talmudical prose the author sometimes employs. One example of this is when the author refers to the land of Israel as “the land of the deer” (p. 138), which was in the original. The ארץ הצבי certainly ארץ הצבי biblical expression for Israel as appears in Daniel 11:16, and according to most commentaries is based on the צבי verse in Ezekiel 20:6, where the context shows that is not a reference to ‘deer’ (the animal) but rather ‘dear’ (as in ‘desired’). From the facsimiles of the pages of the manuscript included in the book, one can get a sense of the rich expressive language the memoir was written in, and it is hoped that perhaps it will be printed in the original one day. For the time being we must be content with the artful and masterful work produced by Prof. Reguer, and even as it is we certainly owe her much gratitude for preserving for us this rich and valuable memoir.

[1] Rieger or Riger are the common spellings, although a facsimile of a letter containing the mailing address of Moshe Aharon Reguer (seemingly in R. Simcha Zelig’s own hand) indicates that Reguer is indeed the correct spelling. [2] Such as this remark on p. 55: ‘many years ago I found out that he had moved to Boro Park, I met him there but he did not understand what I was saying’. [3] I can’t help but wonder as to the nature of this mistake. Could it be that the author was induced to believe his own fictitious birth date, postdating him by two years, as described in the book on p. 23? [4]The reference to “the student Babulnikai” in the preceding paragraph should read Vabolnika’i, meaning ‘hailing from Vabolnik’, a reference to R. Shach’s hometown. See also p. 75 where he mentions his studies “with a student from Bubolnik who lived with me”. I will address this example when discussing the pitfalls of phonetic transliterations later. [5] The editor, who is seemingly unaware that this is the same episode as the above, also does not indicate that she is aware that R. Aharon Kotler and R. Aharon Pines are one and the same (Pinnes was the family name; R. Aharon later took on the name Kotler to help him evade the draft, see Making of a Godol, second ed., p. 295). Adding to the confusion, the index too has separate entries for each name, but more on that later. תל אביב, תשל”ט, עמ’ 85-87 [6] ניו יורק, תש”ג, עמ’ 115-116 [7] [8] This can even be seen today in the facsimiles of the Netziv’s surviving letters, such as the one addressed to our very same R. Reinowitz, in ,שנות דור ודור Reuven Dessler’s vol. 4 (Jerusalem 2013), p. 497. Whether the Netziv’s used this unusual format merely to give his signature an individualized flourish, or whether his intent in keeping with the pious – יהודה was to avoid spelling out custom of which ה”א and יו”דavoiding the written combination of form a divine name, it is significant to note that his signature was altered in the posthumous publication of his writings by his family. There, at the conclusion of each responsum, the Netziv’s name appears in its conventional spelling. (In his Making of a Godol, second ed., p. 887, R. Nathan Kamenetzky points to another example of a famous rabbinic personality who signed his name with an ellipsis; R. (Yisroel Eliyahu) Yehoshua Trenk of Kutna who .(ישראליהושע signed his name as [9] See also the report of this episode by a student in Volozhin from that era, R. שו”ת אהלי אהרן, תל אביב Eliyahu Mileikowsky, in his .תרצ”ו, עמ’ ריח-רכ Eliezer Brodt has further called my attention to the translation of this memoir, with additional references, in an article by Genrich Agranovsky and Sid Z. Leiman: Three Lists of Students, in Turim: Studies in Jewish History and Literature, Vol. 1 (N.Y. 2008, pp. 3-6 fn. 7). [10] See Eugene Newman, The Responsa of Dayan Jacob Reinowitz, 1818—1893, in Transactions & Miscellanies (Jewish Historical Society of England), Vol. 23 (1969-1970), pp. 22-33. [11] I have already referred in a previous note to another letter to him from the See also a responsum .שנות דור ודור Netziv in Reuven Dessler’s addressed to him in ,vol 2, #17. According to Eugene Newman ,משיב דבר the Netziv’s ibid, pp. 26-27, responsa #23 and #25 in vol. 4 were also addressed to R. Reinowitz. His signature on a ruling from the Londonbeit din is also confirmed by the Netziv in responsa #56 in the same volume. [12] See Eugene Newman, ibid, p. 31. Note that according to this account the Netziv’s documents were returned to him after a few hours, whereas in R. Mileikowsky’s account they were only returned to him many months later after the case against him was officially dropped. A further discrepancy, though by no means a contradiction, concerns the lingering danger and prolonged fear and anxiety in R. Mileikowsky’s account, missing in the Netziv’s own telling. [13] See Agranovsky and Leiman, ibid, p. 2-3. ניו יורק, תשכ”ג, עמ’ 59-60 [14] [15] See also R. Nathan Kamenetsky’s study of similar episodes in his Making of a Godol, second ed., pp. 889-890. גליון לז, עמ’ 264 [16] [17] See R. Chaim Karlinsky’s response to this letter in the subsequent .הדרום, גליון לח, עמ’ volume of 187 [18] I think it is this sort of attitude at play in an interview on p. 27 in which he said that he was unable to even approximate his father’s age. Here the editor notes that research shows that it was likely around 1863. I don’t know what research she had in mind, but just by using material supplied in the book it is easy to demonstrate the accuracy of the year 1864 that is often given as the year of his birth (for example see his grandson Chaim Ber .p שבת שבתון Gulevsky’s 365 where his birthday is listed as 20 Adar 1864). On p. 236, the author’s sister, Esther, writes in a letter to him that their mother was 77 at the time of her passing in 1938. Earlier on p. 27 the author himself states that his mother was 3 years older than his father. Now, had R. Simcha Zelig been born in 1863 he would have been 75 in the summer of 1938 and his wife would then have to be at least 78. [19] Perhaps the editor takes this too far in constantly referring to R. Simcha Zelig without the honorary ‘R.’ before his name. Noteworthy in this context; some critics look askance at biographies of this sort, as the approach they take may strike a somewhat presumptuous, all-knowing note, and their tone is often less deferential to their subject. See R. Yisroel Miller In Search of Torah Wisdom (Mosaica Press, 2012), pp. 59-60, who makes this point in the name of R. Avigdor Miller concerning the biography of the Chafetz Chaim that was penned by his son R. Leib (Consistent with this approach is R. Miller’s own account of his repelling of his great urge to read up on R. Yisrael Salanter’s life out of concern lest his reverence for R. Yisroel be diminished, see R. Y. Hamburger’s biography Rav Avigdor Miller (Judaica Press 2016), p. 22). However, often times the authentic human portrait painted by a son is unmatched in its accuracy and detail, and by extension that much more evocative in its vol. 1 p. 48-49 where it is מגד גבעות עולם portrayal. See also reported in the name of R. Mendel Zaks that he preferred the Chafetz Chaim biography written by his student R. M.M. Yoshor over that of his son R. Leib, because the former doesn’t attempt to explain the Chafetz Chaim’s actions as does his son R. Leib. Presumably this is just another way of expressing the sentiment quoted before in the name of R. Avigdor Miller. Conversely, in the Artscroll biography of the late Rosh Yeshiva of Torah V’daath, R. Avrohom Yaakov Pam (Rav Pam, Brooklyn, 2003, p. 13), it is reported that he was fluent in R. Leib’s biography of the Chafetz Chaim and would often quote from it. (Also worth noting is the fact that R. Yoshor himself, in his introduction, relates with pride the fact that his work had found favor even with the usually critical R. Leib). Ultimately, this harks back to the age-old question of whether a hagiography is preferable to a biography. See the excellent discussion on the topic that forms the introduction to R. Nathan Kamenetsky’s Making of a Godol. [20] It is worth noting in this context a story I heard from the Rosh Yeshiva of the Kaminetz yeshiva in Jerusalem, R. Yitzchak Sheiner, concerning a student who aspired to join the Yeshiva in Radin. This student was disappointed to find out that he failed his entrance examination with the Chafetz Chaim, and was told to seek other arrangements. On his way out he chanced upon the Rosh Yeshiva of Radin, R. Moshe Landinsky, who noticed his dejected look and asked what had transpired. After hearing the story, R. Moshe advised him to return to the Chafetz Chaim and ask to borrow money for the train fare from Radin to Lida. Knowing of the Chafetz Chaim’s aversion to the modern yeshiva founded in Lida by R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines, this move was guaranteed to make the Chafetz Chaim reconsider his rejection of this bachur. Sure enough, that is exactly what happened, and the bachur was thereupon accepted to the . [21] As an interesting aside, Prof. Reguer recounts on p. 157 how Moshe Aharon was involved in the physical construction of Hebrew University’s Mount Scopus campus, and even provides (among the unpaginated illustrations [corresponding to p. 153]) a photograph of him posing with fellow students at the site. It seems that many students in those days involved themselves in such activities, and this is likely what Prof. Avigdor Aptovitzer had in mind when he wrote to וגם“ :Shalom Spiegel after arriving in Palestine in 1939 נוכחתי שכמעט אי אפשר למצוא תלמידים מסייעים שכל התלמידים במלאכה, מלאכה ולא חכמה, ונתקיים בהם אל תקרא בניך .Tarbitz ( , vol”אלא בוניך, בוניך ממש מלאכת הבנין והסעת אבנים 81, p. 463). [22] See ,vol. 28 ,ישורון R. Betzalel Devlitzky’s biography of him in pp. 871-899. The Karilov chapter is mentioned there on p. 876. This article was later expanded and דברי יחזקאל (הוצאת מישור, בני included in a recent edition of .(ברק, תשע”ג [23] This section has been summarized in Hebrew here. [24] In some sources the last name appears as Berenstein. It is likely that at some point he altered his name in an attempt at avoiding the dreaded draft to the Polish army. [25] See here. See also R. Nathan Kamenetzky’s discussion on the topic in his Making of a Godol, second ed., pp. 775-778, where conflicting opinions are cited in the name of various students. [26] He also received (through R. Simcha Zelig) various traditions from R. Chaim, and he would sometimes relay these very traditions, as can be evidenced by following the references indexed under his name in Aharon Rakeffet’s The Rav.

Zvi Hirsch Masliansky: Memoirs from the Hebrew Periodical Ha-Doar

Zvi Hirsch Masliansky: Memoirs from the Hebrew Periodical Ha-Doar By Zviah Nardi Introduction. Zvi Hirsch Masliansky, known as “The National Preacher” (1856- l943), was a member of the Hibbat Zion movement in Russia from the time of its inception in l882, and served as its itinerant preacher in the early 1890s. After his expulsion from Russia in 1895, he went to the United States, where he became a leading figure in the integration of the mass immigration of Eastern European Jews to American life. He wrote memoirs of those two periods of his life in the l920s. Published in Yiddish in 1924, they were followed by a Hebrew version, for which the author was also responsible, in l929. The family has recently published an English translation: Memoirs; an account of my life and travels, Jerusalem, Ariel, 2009, which has been distributed to family and friends, as well as to leading libraries. In the l930s Masliansky wrote another memoir, which was published in installments in the Hebrew periodical Ha-Doar, mostly in vols. 13-14, 1933-5; four segments in vol. 15 and one, which has been translated into English and incorporated into the English 2009 book, in vol. 16 (1937). The focus of these memoirs is far more personal then that of the book. Here Masliansky describes his childhood, his education, the early stages of his career and his marriage. Other segments focus on various people he knew and loved back in Russia, including some great Rabbis and important public figures. Despite their literary quality and importance to social history, these memoirs, hidden in the large bound volumes of Ha-Doar, are even less known to the public than those published in the book. A number of excerpts from the Ha-Doar memoirs have been translated by Zviah Nardi (co-translator of the 2009 English book) for the benefit of family members. To the best of our knowledge, this is their first English version. The unpublished continuation of these memoirs in Masliansky’s handwriting is in possession of the family. We are most thankful to Eliezer Brodt of the Seforim blog for putting this partial translation on the web, and thus making it accessible to all interested in Zvi Hirsch Masliansky and in the life of the Jews in the Pale of Settlement in the late 19th century. We are also thankful to Moshe Maimon for bringing us together, and reviewing the excerpts. We hope to continue the translation of both the published and the hand written material in the future, and propagate them in the same fashion as the work continues. Finally, I would like to conclude with a personal note: In 2006, four of our progeintor’s descendants made the decision to publish his memoirs in an English version: his grandsons James and Marshall Weinberg of New York and his great- granddaughters Zviah Nardi and Meira Nardi Bossem of Jerusalem. As these excerpts of his second memoir from Ha- Doar appear on the web, only two of us remain. My dear cousin-once-removed James Weinberg, a businessman and prominent Jewish leader, passed away in October 2013; my dear sister, Meira, just a year ago (on kaf-gimmel Tamuz). Meira was the first reader of both memoirs as the work progressed — a wonderful first reader and advisor. We would appreciate the willingness of our readers to join us for a moment of thought about our dear departed. Zviah Nardi, Marshall Weinberg.

For further details contact [email protected].

Excerpts from Masliansky‘s Second Set of Memoirs, Ha-Doar, 1933-1935. Ha-Doar vol. 13, 1933-4, no. 38, p. 724 “Tachlith” – In search for a purpose in life. (A Chapter from my Memoirs) My days as a “Yeshivah Bochur” [student at a religious academy], those “days” devoid of goal and practical purpose, have come to an end. I felt a growing aspiration to study at the modern, government-authorized Teachers’ Seminary in Zhitomir. I walked from Novogrudok to Pinsk, where I planned to board a ship headed for Kiev on the river Dnieper, and then walk from Kiev to Zhitomir. “Tachlith, Tachlith” [purpose, purpose] – this word sounded in my ears day and night, as I walked and as I sat, as I ‘lay down and as I got up’. What will be my purpose in life, what will become of me? I do not want Rabbi Yosel the Dayan [judge according to religious law] as a role model, nor do I want Rabbi Eliezer the preacher or the fanatical ascetic who tore the [modern Hebrew] novel “Ashmat Shomron” [by Avraham Mapu] to shreds. This problem gave me no rest and kept buzzing in my mind like the proverbial mosquito in the head of Titus. I had dwelled long enough among fanatic savages. I am a grown boy, fifteen years old, and back in my native town of Slutsk my mother, the elderly widow, is suffering hunger, and she and my orphaned brother of eleven years, are expecting my help. And what is my purpose in life? Tachlith! Tahclith! – the cry was echoing inside me at that time as I walked along the road. I became weaker by the hour, and when I reached Mir, I felt that I should give my weak body and my swollen feet a rest; I shall rest and then continue my quest for a purpose. I was drawn to visit the Yesivah, I so loved and adored, once more. I found this “molder of the nation’s spirit” in fine order. Hundreds of students were chanting their gemorrah lessons in loud voices. I found my cousin Avraham Yitzhak Masliansky[1] son of my uncle Arieh Leib there (I used to call him ABIM in my letters). Our meeting was one of loving excitement, as we had not seen each other since I had left Slutsk. He told me that my younger brother Avraham was in Mir as well, studying at the Talmud Torah [elementary school.] I was excited and moved to hear this, and soon hugged and kissed my brother, and yet I said to myself with a broken heart: “my miserable mother, you have lacked twice – a widow who is now also bereaved of her children; left behind by both your sons.” My cousin ABIM and I went to visit our teacher Rabbi Chaim Leib[2]. He received me cordially and discussed various issues with me. I did not tell him my destination, as I did not wish to aggravate him. He suggested I return to the Yeshivah and promised to provide for all my needs. My heart was indeed inclined to accept his offer, but my mind reminded me Tachlith“ !” I thanked him, he blessed me, and I left the Yeshivah, with a heart full of longing. After two days of rest I took my wandering staff in my hand and put my sack on my back; my relatives escorted me to the main road where we kissed each other and parted in tears. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Ha-Doar, vol. 14, 1934-5, no.1, pp. 8 – 9. Pinsk (a Chapter from “My Life.”) Two Yeshivah students seeking a purpose in life are walking along the main road leading from Kapulya to Pinsk. They walked for six days and ‘in the seventh day’ they arrived in Pinsk; they came to this foreign city, where they had neither a relative nor ‘a redeeming kinsman,’ with sore feet but with courageous spirits and high hopes. The city of Pinsk at the time excelled in its commerce more than any other city in Lithuania. Along the river Pina, a tributary of the Dnieper, its ships sailed to Kiev, Kremenchuk, Yekaterinoslav and Odessa. We immediately noticed the difference between Pinsk and the surrounding cities. The city was full of life and tumult, being the center of commerce for grain and lumber shipped to the south of Russia by boats and rafts. Thousands of peasants bringing their commodities filled its streets causing this turmoil. At that time there were a number of rich families living in Pinsk that were renowned throughout Russia. I am referring to the Luria, Zeitlin, Eisenberg and Greenberg families, all had among them learned men skilled in Torah and wisdom [secular studies]. The most illustrious family were the Lurias, descendants of Rabbi Shlomo Luria (the MaHaRSHaL) or of the Holy Ari [the mystic Rabbi Yitzhak Luria Ashkenazi.] They excelled in both looks and character, in their skills and in their communal work for charitable institutions, hospitals,Talmud Torah schools, orphanages and homes for the elderly. The head of the family at that time was the generous lady Haya’le Luria with her sons Moshe and David, and their sons Aharon and Isar and sons-in- law Moshe Haim Eliasberg and Jonah Simchovitch of Slutsk, all of them renowned Talmidei Chachamim [famous for their Jewish knowledge.] Pinsk is divided into two cities – Pinsk and Karlin… – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Suddenly I received a letter from Slutsk, informing me that my abandoned, widowed mother and my orphaned brother are suffering cold and hunger. And so, what was I to do?! This was an awful quandary and I was totally hopeless. There were no Yeshivoth in Pinsk, and its residents were unfamiliar with the practice of “eating by days” [having Yesivah students eat in a different resident’s home each day], a practice I myself was sick and tired of. Traveling any longer without documents had become impossible [as the authorities were kidnapping men and boys for prolonged military service in the area.] My friend Benyamin bid me goodbye and returned to his native town of Poltava. Our parting was a heart wrenching sight. Little Jews, almost children, deserted and alone, hugging and kissing each other, weeping and sobbing on each other’s necks, separating from one another, devoid of hope to find their purpose in life… Absentmindedly I entered a Jewish inn on the bank of the Pina River. The innkeeper, a man by the name of Katchinovsky, was educated and respected students of the Torah. He took one look at me and instantly liked what he saw. The inn served the rural Jews, the tavern leasers and operators, living in the countryside around Pinsk. One of the guests, a man of stature, had asked the inn keeper whether he knew of a young man, a Torah student, who would agree to travel to the village with him to be a [teacher] for his children. It was summer, the first day of the month of Tamuz, with three months left for the school year; He was ready to pay thirty rubles for this period and to raise the salary for the next year, provided he was satisfied with the man’s performance as instructor and teacher for his children. The innkeeper turned to me and asked me if I would agree to go with the man? I agreed. Two days later the villager Eliezer Rubinstein took me to his village of Harinich. He was a kind and honest man by nature, and regarded me as a son from the very first day, treating me in a loving and friendly manner: it was as though his heart foretold that in two years time I would be his son-in-law. The trip from Pinsk to Harinich lasted for about four hours. On the way he started couching me in his own manner. He clarified that country life was simpler and healthier than life in the city. He proved ‘with signs and marvels’ that country people are healthier physically and of a more honest spirit than city folk. He advised me to get slightly more accustomed to physical work, to take long walks, gain strength and ride a horse. ‘He said and acted’[3]. A horse he had bought in Pinsk was running behind the carriage; he put me on the horse and I rode behind the wagon. My heart was pounding rapidly for the first ten minutes – the heart of a Yeshivah student who had never touched a horse, and was suddenly studying the theoretical Talmudic issue of ‘the rider and leader’[4] in practice. But I made the effort, straightened my neck, raised my head and rode like a cossack in the regiment. He was surprised that I sat on the horse and rode securely, as though accustomed to doing so, and expressed his feeling with the Jewish proverb: “wer Torah, dort ist chochmeh!” [“Where there is Torah there is wisdom!”] As we were traveling I started to understand what the world famous “Marshes of Pinsk” were. I had searched for them in Pinsk without success, for Pinsk itself is a fine and dry city – no swamps to be found in its streets, which stone-pavements are superior to those of the neighboring towns. En route, however, I learnt the nature of the terrifying swamps of Pinsk. These swamps have gained their widespread reputation for a good reason. They were large broad and deep, extending for hundreds of miles… The roads, covered with branches of Birch and Oak trees, were called “grebliyes’, and woe to the man or horse who took one slanted step and got their leg into the grebilyeh’‘ branches. I rode my horse with the utmost care and after a number of hours we reached a wonderful and beautiful place in the wilderness of the swamp – thick forests, green fields, planted gardens, pastures with sheep and cows grazing. Suddenly I saw a windmill far away, its large, broad wings spinning fast. Reb Eliezer Rubinstein turned to me most happily and said: “Do you see, Hirsch’le, the mill, the house next to it and all these fields till the distant mountain? – All this is mine. We are now in our home in the village of Harinich.” Ha-Doar, vol. l4, 1934-5, no. 4, pp. 61-62 In the Country (A Chapter from “my Life”.) It was evening. The sun was setting in the west, earth and sky kissed each other in a sea of molted gold; the mill and the small hills around it were glowing in red. The air was full of the delicate sounds of bells, the bells of herds returning from pasture. The farmers’ wives were waiting for the herds, pails in hand, while the dogs, who had spent the entire day with the flocks, were running and jumping towards them, barking happily as their work day had ended and the time for rest had come. Farmers, large and small, men and woman, all dressed in thick cotton shirts, barefoot and tired, were returning, group by group, from their labor in the fields to their small low houses covered with straw, there they were met by their virtually naked toddlers and children, who rushed into the arms of their mothers they had missed so. “Good Evening!” called the head of the family, as he opened the door of his dwelling wide. The mistress of the house with her children, who were waiting for their father and for the new teacher, surrounded me. Six pairs of lovely eyes measured me with their glances from head to toe. Mrs. Devorah Rubinstein, a pretty and graceful woman of about thirty, stood by her husband and looked at me with a mother’s eye… “Children!” – the head of the household turned to his sons and daughters, two boys and three girls, the oldest among them twelve years old, “say hello to your new teacher, he will instruct you and you are obliged to obey him and follow his orders.” The children approached me respectfully and handed me their little hands, Yetta, the oldest, lowered her glance as she came to me, as though her heart told her that it would not be long – in three years time[5] – before relationship would far exceed that of teacher and pupil… I enjoyed my first meal and ate it with zest. For the first time in my life I felt that I was eating my own food. I then slept peacefully through the night. The next morning I examined my pupils and saw that the two boys had studied a bit, but the girls did not even know the [Hebrew] A-B-C. I started to work and within a number of weeks my pupils were doing well in their studies. The rural Jews living near Harinich heard my praise from Reb Eliezer and came to see me. Some of them brought their small children who joined my pupils, so that my salary doubled. I was ever so happy when, for the first time, I sent my poor mother ten rubles. That was a holy and festive day for me and I shall never forget it. And yet the question of “tachlith” remained unsolved – what will my life purpose be, what will my future hold? I am living here, in a remote and deserted village, far from the rapid pace of life, surrounded by peasants with whom I have no spiritual bond. They regard me as worthless, an idle person who does not really work for a living, and I – living here I shall forget everything I have learnt. I am but fifteen years old, what will my purpose in life be? I will grow and develop in body but when will I see to my soul and spirit…? A Jewish tavern leaser in one of the villages not far from Harinich had a small library. His name was Reb Yitzhak Rutzky. He was a Torah scholar and knew Hebrew. After we got to know each other he was pleased with me and opened up his library so I could take whatever I needed. This encouraged me to continue my studies of the Talmud with great desire. But a complete Jew does not live by Talmud alone. I felt, that with all my proficiency in the Holy Writings my knowledge of Hebrew grammar and medieval literature, which I knew only by name, was lacking. I searched through the small library and found “The Guide to the Perplexed” and “The Principles” [by Maimonides], “The Kuzari” [by Yehudah ha-Levi] and “Chovot Ha-Levavot” [ by Behya ibn Pequda]. I fell upon these profound books overzealously and enjoyed their study. I asked Mr. Rubinstein to bring me three books I wanted from Pinsk: “Talmud Leshon Ivri” [a grammar of the by Judah Leib Ben Zeev], the Biblical book of Isaiah, translated into Russian by Yehoshua Steinberg, and “Sefer Ha-Brith.”[6] These books occupied much of my time and I did not go idle.[7] I studied the “Talmud Leshon Ivri” most diligently from beginning to end, including the appendix by the poet Adam HaCohen Lebensohn, and became quite a grammarian writing notes on the margins of the book. The book of Isaiah in its Russian translation was extremely useful: I imitated the first generation of Maskilim [adherents of modern Jewish learning, Haskalah or Enlightenment] who learnt the German language from Mendelsohn’s translation and commentary of the Bible [Bi-ur], till I was able to read Russian with the help of a dictionary and thus read the great works of Russian literature in the original. “Sefer Ha-Brith“ (“The Book of the Covenant” which includes tenuous information in all the branches of science known at its time, carried me off to another world. Later on, however, I learnt that the author of the book was a Yeshivah student like me, who had never studied the natural sciences he was interested in, and yet wrote modestly: “And I shall now confront Master Copernicus.” And yet, I am grateful to the author of this book. He was extremely important to me, a rural melamed, with no school, no guidance. He opened my eyes to see that there are sciences and important topics in this world that are worth learning. My employer’s affection towards me grew daily. He would sit at the table while I taught my students and audit the lessons most eagerly; he secretly repeated the verses till he knew them by heart. He especially liked the sayings from the Book of Proverbs about “jealousy”, “hatred”, “lust”, and “honor”, but his favorite theme was “idleness”, for he detested the lazy with all his heart, and so he always liked to recited the 24th chapter of Proverbs out loud: ‘I passed by the field of a lazy man, by the vineyard of a man lacking sense. It was all overgrown with thorns; Its surface was covered with chickweed. And its stone fence in ruins. I observed and took it to heart; I saw it and learned a lesson. A bit more sleep, a bit more slumber, a bit more hugging yourself in bed, and poverty will come calling upon you, and want, like a man with a shield.’ When he finished reciting the original Hebrew he started translating it to Yiddish with the same chant and intonation I used with the students. He continued to “recite” these verses till we arrived at his mill, where he took me nearly every day after the lessons. He taught me how to adjust the wings towards the wind and how to help him inside. I especially liked sitting in the mill during the evening hours, a highly suitable time and place to engage in thought and to recite the declinations of Hebrew verbs to the rhythm of the large grinding stones. And so I worked as a teacher by day and as assistant miller by evening. Some evenings I would stay long hours at the mill, keeping the miller company till midnight. He was an elderly Catholic peasant, very loyal to his faith. He loved me and felt sorry for me, not being member to his religion. He told me as a fact that the Pope is immortal and that old age has no power over him. He is like the moon, born again every single month, and will never die. The hours I spent with this innocent old man were amazing and mysterious. The silvery moon, the rustle of the wings of the mill, the noise of the large grinding stones as the aged man related his stories, his nonsensical, imaginative stories enveloped in secrets and mysteries. We pitied one another – he pitied me for my heresy and I him for the figments of his hallucinating spirit, which he believed in with all his heart. Ha-Doar, vol. 14, 1934-1935, no. 5, p. 79 A groom living in his father-in-law’s home (A chapter from “My Life”) It was a bright pure spring day – the third day of the third month of the year 5734 (1874), my birthday – I am seventeen years old! I finished teaching my pupils at noon. The sun stood high in the sky blessing the entire universe with majestic splendor. My employer, Reb Eliezer Rubinstein, stretched out his strong warm hand, kissed me and congratulated me in honor of my birthday. He then took me by the arm and walked with me down the narrow path leading to the hay fields he had been leasing from the Pravoslave priests for more than twenty years. We reached a small lovely hill; the grown hay gave a pleasant scent; the grass was sparkled with blue and yellow flowers that seemed like little stars in the green sky beneath us. We were walking very slowly when suddenly Mr. Rubinstein halted and started to recite his favorite verses from the Book of Proverbs: ‘I passed by the field of a lazy man, by the vineyard of a man lacking sense’ etc. When he completed reciting the verses he held me by my right arm and looked at me lovingly for several minutes, then spoke as a man restraining his emotions. “You know, Hirsch’le, that I love you very much, and so my words will come from a pure and loyal heart. You are seventeen years old today, may you live to a hundred and twenty, it is time for you to find “tachlith”, to seek a purpose in life. You, with all your talents, have not been destined from birth to be a melamed. And so I have a wonderful proposition for you, if God helps me to accomplish it: You should get engaged to be married to a kind hearted and pretty girl, daughter of honest and wealthy parents and become betrothed this very day. And next year, when you will be eighteen years old, you will marry at the very age established by our sages of blessed memory. If you take my advice I shall congratulate you on this very day and say ‘Mazal tov’ upon your engagement.” He then was silent, looked me in the eye and awaited my answer. His innocent and kindhearted monologue made a great impression on me. Some minutes later I said: “Reb Eliezer, two sides are needed for a shiduch [match] and I’m but one. Where is the other side?” “Quite so, my son!” he answered, “The other side is standing before you, and I am ready, and my eldest daughter, Yetta, agrees full heartedly, because she loves you. I shall not sing her praises in your ears, for I am her father, but I believe that you have eyes to see and a mind and brain to understand. You can see her beauty and understand that she shall be a ‘woman of valor’ and a ‘splendid crown’ on her husband’s head. She is fourteen years old, as lovely as an eighteen year old and as wise as a twenty year old. What then have you to say as it is the shadchen [match maker] who is speaking to you.” “Yes, Reb Eliezer, you mentioned the word ‘tachlith’. Do you know that it was ‘tachlith’ that uprooted me, that tore me away from my studies and from city life and brought here to seek my livelihood? The question of ‘tachlith’ is to become even more difficult now: what ‘tachlith’ will we have now if I marry and have a family?” “Yes, my son,” he answered, “you are right, but with God’s help I will find a solution to the problem. Open your eyes and see this entire plain that brings me a yearly profit that could easily support two families. I have leased all these fields for many years,we will both live and work together. You will no longer be a ‘melamed’, and I will build you a little house near mine and you will lack for nothing.” Absentmindedly I put my small hand into his large one, and our eyes filled with tears of joy. Overjoyed, my schadchan [match maker] and father-in-law returned home with me and with a cry of “Mazal Tov” that echoed through the entire house approached his wife, my mother-in-law, and said: “I congratulate you, Devorah’le. Mazal Tov, our eldest daughter Yetta’le, has become a bride today and Hirsch’le is her betrothed for years to come.” The sound of greeting and kisses filled the house. Tears of joy streamed from everyone’s eyes, for the entire family loved me and they all fell on my neck, kissed me and hugged me. The young couple, the seventeen year old youth and the fourteen year old girl, hugged each other[8] and cried, but they did not kiss, ‘for they were ashamed…’[9] My days as a melamed came to an end, and the family members treated me as a master of the house from that day on. One day the door opened suddenly and my little brother appeared. He had walked from Slutsk to Pinsk to see his older brother who had almost reached his “tachlith.” He brought with him the kisses of my widowed mother and described her miserable situation. My brother and I were different – he was of a courageous spirit, hated to complain and was always satisfied, contented with his lot. He stayed with me for about ten days and then I sent him to our mother in Slutsk with considerable help, according to what my situation at the time enabled me. * The Days of Awe had come – the most exciting days of the year for the Jews of the villages. The leaseholders and innkeepers started the preparations for the journey in the month of Elul. This journey was to take them to the cities and towns [stetalach] to pray on Rosh Ha-Shana [the New Year] and Yom Kippur [the Day of Atonement], that is to say, to hold proper services in a synagogue with a legal quorum [a minimum of ten adult men]. They would take their gentile maids, who were acquainted with all the Jewish customs, with them. They were also equipped with a sufficient number of chicks and white chickens enabling them to perform the custom of Kapparot”“ for the entire family[10]. Traditional pastries for these days were also prepared…. Indeed, it was a time when even the fish in the rivers were terrified. In addition the country people would take small sacks of ‘the choice products of the land’, the crops of the earth and of the fruit of the trees, various types of beans and grits, oats and spelt, as gifts for the home owners in the towns, who were to be their hosts for the holidays.[11] The town closest to our village was Navliyah, which numbered about forty Jewish families. There were a few affluent families, but most were impoverished and beggars; they waited all year for the gifts their rural brethren would bring them for the Days of Awe. All the rural Jews, the leaseholders and innkeepers, from the neighboring villages…with their children and maids, their chicken and roosters, their sacks and belongings would gather in the village of Womit on the shore of the pond, where small boats awaited to lead them to the river that flowed to a spot near our destination – the town of Navliyah. The boats rowed on the lake, full to capacity with young and old, men and woman, happy healthy youngsters, pretty and shy maidens in full bloom. Christian maids, watching over the children, were seated on sacks full of grain, foodstuffs and chicken coops carrying roosters and chickens, future victims of “Kapparot” to atone for the passengers’ sins. The boats sailed heavily on the pond towards the town to celebrate the Days of Awe there. Ha-Doar, 1934-5, no. 7, p 123 My First Sermon As in the gathering of the exiles the convoy of pilgrims descended from their boats to Navliyah, and the small town was suddenly filled with a multitude of people. All the leaseholders and innkeepers also brought their children’s teachers. Most of them were old and feeble, men who had spent themselves as teachers [melamdim] in the cities; their strength gone, they resorted to teaching in the villages where they hoped to find a remedy for their ailments, sickness of the heart or weakness of sight. Most of them were ignoramuses, all they knew was to read the prayer book and hold the whip in hand to flog the “naughty” children, who indulged in pure childhood mischief, refusing to listen to the teachers whom they did not understand. I went to see the local Rabbi, a young man recently arrived from the VolozhinYeshivah [religious academy] equipped with an authorization. He understood Hebrew. When I came to the synagogue he honored me, seated me at his side and introduced me to the leader of the community who gave me the honor of delivering the sermon before the prayer of “Kol Nidrei” [at the outset of the Yom Kippur Eve prayers.] For the first time in my life I was to stand by the Holy Ark, wrapped in aTalith [prayer shawl] and preach to an audience. True, I had already tried to conduct a study of the Pentateuch with Abarbanel’s commentary in public, and to explain a chapter of the prophets to my friends at the Mir Yeshivah, but I never dreamt of preaching in a synagogue beforeKol Nidrei. How could anyone imagine that this sermon would be the first of thousands I would deliver in my lifetime? While at the time my mind was occupied with the issues concerning the mill and the harvesting of my father-in-law’s hay in the heart of the famous marshes of Pinsk… I gathered my courage and ascended towards the Holy Ark. I felt my blood burning like a divine flame in the heat of the large wax candles that lit the small synagogue. I remember that a few minutes into the sermon the entire crowd was sobbing with me and terrible shrieks were heard from the women’s gallery. I spoke for close to an hour about the situation of our brethren in dark Russia, about our murky sources of livelihood – the war between Turkey and Russia broke out that year [sic],[12] and I quoted the verse: ‘The snorting of their horses was heard from Dan’ [Jeremiah 8,16), and interpreted it in homiletically: the war had started from the river “Donau”, Esau [Christendom] is fighting with his father-in-law Ishmael [Islam]. I concluded with a prayer: “Lord of the Universe, remove the goat [=Se’ir = the land of Esau, Edom] and his father-in-law, ’for liberators shall march up to Zion!’”[13] There was a drunken and evil man in the audience, known as “Benjamin the Factor”. His livelihood was to supply “Pan Lapitzki”, who was single all his life, with girls, farmers’ daughters, and he served as the Pan’s [Polish landlord] matchmaker every single day. My sermon about our “murky sources of livelihood” must have insulted him, and immediately after the prayer of “Kol Nidrei”, he went to the Christian priest and informed on me, reporting that I had cursed the government, the Christian faith and first and foremost the Russian Czar… Imagine the fear that seized the Rabbi and the leader of the community when, on the next day, the town policeman burst into the synagogue during the prayers and led the three of us to the government official. He brought us into the official’s bureau, where we found the priest and the informer, waiting for the three of us. “Tell me, young Jew, what did you speak about in the synagogue yesterday? For if what I was told is true, I shall arrest you and send you to the district capital in chains.”

I answered him calmly: “Yes, Sir, I spoke yesterday to a large audience, and they can all testify that what I shall tell you is true. I talked about interest, saying it is a great sin, and that my Jewish brethren should stop taking interest. They should work and engage in various sustaining livelihoods. I spoke about the ‘factors’ that disgrace their people. I hope that this sermon brings me the thanks and praise of the government, rather than arrest and being led off in chains.” The official looked at the priest, gave me his hand and asked the three of us to forgive him for interrupting our prayers on this holy day. The snitch left the bureau ‘his head covered in mourning.’[14] This event, that took place during my first sermon, was ominous of my future fate – to be ready always to confront the government officials, high and low, from without and our informers and enemies from within, until I was exiled from the country, much to my happiness and to the happiness of my family. The last winter before my wedding was also the last of my days as a melamed. I thought I had reached my goal and found my tachlith (my purpose in life). From time to time I sent money to support my widowed mother and orphaned brother. My brother was happy for me. But deep down in my subconscious I felt I was not meant to be a country man; that the meaning of my life was not to be found in the mill and the fields, that my rightful place was in the city, and that my work should be of a spiritual nature. I continued my study of the Talmud, persevered in learning Hebrew grammar, and in reading our modern literature, and Russian literature as well. On the third day of the month of Adar 5635 [March 10th, l875], I celebrated my wedding with the child bride, Yetta Rubinstein, who was fifteen years old, while I was eighteen. The reader nowadays may regard this marriage of young children, who know nothing of life, appalling, a legacy of the middle ages. Yet he who reacts so knows nothing and understands nothing of the pleasure of fathers as they look at forty- two beautiful and fresh images of boys and girls, their descendants, grandchildren and great grandchildren of the third and forth generations. He will not feel what our predecessors felt, namely, that timely marriage leads to a beautiful life, a life of morality and health, that leaves an eternal legacy for many generations to come. * I am no longer a single man. God has entrusted me with the responsibility for my family’s livelihood. I girded my loins in leather and rose early in the morning to assist my father-in-law with his work. I tried to engage in commerce as well, and was full of hope to soon become my father-in-law’s partner in his fields and in the rest of his endeavors as he had promised me. One morning, as we were all sitting at the table for breakfast, joyous, happy and eating heartily, the door opened suddenly and the district policeman appeared bearing a government document for Eliezer Rubinstein. It proclaimed that all his rights in the fields and gardens belonging to Christian churches were ‘annulled and made void’ from that day on, since the government had issued a new law prohibiting Jews from buying or leasing landed property from Christians. The policeman handed him the document and ordered him to sign it. My father- in-law was terribly upset, his face became pale and he signed the order with a trembling hand. The policeman left and all of us remained mute and dumbfound – staring at each other with horrific astonishment… ‘Tachlith” – practical purpose and livelihood – had evaporated in thin air. The oil had spilled from the pitcher, and what was to be done with an empty pitcher now? My kind and generous father-in-law made the utmost effort to gather his courage so as to console and encourage us. He said that this evil decree affected the public at large, it was directed against all the Jewish leasers and tavern operators, and a general disaster is, as the proverb says, half a consolation. But what is there to be done with the other half, for which there is no consolation at all? For a year I tried my best to become a “wheeler dealer”, but I was not destined for commerce. I could not adjust myself to petty trade and to the deceitful cheating talk it always involved. At that time my child-wife gave birth to our eldest son – Chaim who was named for my father. The question of our “tachlith” – our practical purpose in life – became even more acute. Ha-Doar, vol. 14, 1934-5, no. 9, p.158 Thanks to a Poem. (A chapter from “My Life.”) In time of trouble one never knows ‘from where will… help come.’ In the midst of despair help suddenly comes and restores you. In my pitiful state I was saved by one of the poems I had written while teaching in the country, though I had never been a poet. My library consisted of three books at the time: [the Hebrew grammar book] “Talmud Leshon Ha-Ivri”, “Sefer Ha-Brith” [on basic sciences] and the Russian translation of the Book of Isaiah. These three books supplied my spiritual nourishment. Thank to the first I became a grammarian, the second introduced me to “The Seven Wisdoms,” and the through the third I came to understand Russian, as did the Maskilim in the early days of the Haskalah [the early adherents of modern Jewish learning,Haskalah or Enlightenment] who studied German with the aid of Mendelssohn’s[15] translation of the Bible. The poem mentioned was one of six stanzas, which I wrote on the title page of Steinberg’s Russian translation [of Isaiah]. In the first three stanzas I praised and lauded Steinberg for his translation, and in the last three I cautioned him, saying he was not of the same stature as Ben Menachem [Mendelssohn]. I had no idea whether there was any poetry in that poem, but it did have some sensible ideas. I wrote it, left it in the book, and forgot about it. One day, one of my rural pupils wished to enroll in the Hebrew School in town to complete his education. He traveled to Pinsk, where the government-appointed Rabbi, Avraham Chaim Rosenberg, had established a Hebrew School. The boy and his father reported to the principal of the school; the youngster happened to be holding Steinberg’s translation in his hand, for I had given it to him as a gift for his Bar Mitzvah. Rabbi Rosenberg took the book in his hand and when he opened it saw the poem on the title page. He immediately asked the boy’s father: “Could you tell me who wrote this poem?” “ Yes, Rabbi, the poet was my son’s teacher for three years.” “Could I perhaps see him today?” “He is in Pinsk now, at the Katchinovsky Inn. He came to sell his merchandise, for he left teaching and is trading in fish and hides, though with little success. If you wish to see him, send for him and he shall come here,” answered the boy’s father. That day as I was eating my lunch at the inn, a man came forth and asked: “Is the son-in-law of Eliezer Rubinstein from the village of Harinich here?” The innkeeper pointed to me, and the man turned to me and said: “I have been sent by the Rabbi of the congregation; he wishes you come with me to see him.” All the people present were very surprised: “What does the government-appointed Rabbi have to do with this young villager?” for I was dressed in rural clothes. I followed the man to the Rabbi and found him in his school. For the first time in my life I saw a modern school – a hall, large and broad, rows of benches with their desks. In the center of the hall was a wooden black board. The teacher stood next to it, chalk in hand, writing Hebrew words. He would call one of the pupils by name and instruct him to read the words, add the proper vowels and explain them to him. When the pupil erred he ordered him to return to his place and called upon another pupil. The order and regime pleased me. Rabbi Rosenberg handed his work to another teacher and took me to his office. He was a tall man with a large and handsome head, big black eyes and a round black beard. He looked at me, observing my rural attire, the leather loincloth on my waist, and a slight smile crossed his lips. He gave me his hand and asked that I sit next to him. On the desk I saw Yehoshua Steinberg’s translation. The book was open with my poem on the title page. I was surprised – how did this book get here? The entire scene seemed like a dream to me. He understood my confusion and did not keep me waiting. He then asked me smilingly: “Is your name Zvi Hirsch Masliansky?” “It is, Sir.” “Did you write this poem?” he asked again pointing at the title page. “Obviously, my signature is on it.” “Kindly read it to me, young man.” I read the poem out loud, emphasizing a certain place in a way that clarified my intention he had not formerly understood. He looked at my strange clothes again, and addressed me affectionately: “And what are you doing? Where do you live? What are your plans for the future?” I answered all his questions, from the first to the last. He got up, held me by the lapel, and said: “Listen to me, young man, and take my advice. You are not destined for country life, wheeling and dealing among the peasants. You should settle in the city among your fellow Jews who will understand and cherish your talents, and with time you will develop and become one of the great men of your nation. I advise you to become a Hebrew teacher. Divide the day into hours, and spend each hour teaching in a different home. But be aware of the melamdim and their Hadarim [traditional teachers and schools] for they are in a very bad state. Teaching by the hours will give you a status and provide you with a livelihood.” He continued talking as he walked me to the hall of the school, and said to me: “I shall be the first and give you an hour or two of teaching in my school for the same salary I pay all the other teachers.” I looked at him with both gratitude and amazement. “I do thank you, Sir, for your generous spirit, taking interest in the fate of a desperate and lonely person like me. I am ready to do anything you instruct me, but I don’t know if I can fulfill your wish as far as teaching goes. This is the first time I have had the merit of seeing a modern school. Till now all I saw were the old fashionedHadarim devoid of any order and regime.” “This ‘lack’ can ‘be made good.’ I will spend a few days with you and instruct you in the modern methods of teaching,” was his relaxed answer. That very moment he brought me to the best class in the school. The room was full of pupils and the great teacher Feitelsohn stood next to the black board explaining the difference between the definite particle and the interrogative particle in both meaning and vowels. The teacher too looked at my clothes with surprise. The principal introduced me to the teacher and asked him to allow me to take over for half an hour. The teacher handed me the chalk; On the black board I wrote several sentences that included the two articles without vowels. The pupils added the vowels and seemed satisfied with my work. The Rabbi then told me to ask the pupils a grammatical question about verbs. I did as he wished, asked them about the passive tense, and explained the answer to them. Rosenberg and Feigelsohn[16] approved of my answer. “And now, young man, return to your home,” the Rabbi said as he bid me goodbye, “Cast off ‘the filthy clothes…and… be clothed in [priestly] robes… and I will permit you to move about among these attendants.’” [Zachariah 3; 4,7] Ha-Doar, vol. 14, 1934-5, no. 11, p. 194 Teacher and Preacher (A Chapter from “My Life.”) I succeeded in my first trial, and immediately after the test was appointed as teacher in the school run by the government-appointed Rabbi, Rabbi A. Rosenberg, in Pinsk. With little delay I took my small family, my sixteen-year-old wife and my half-year-old eldest child Chaim, and brought them with me to Pinsk. I shouldered my burden – the burden of a Hebrew teacher. I divided the day to twelve periods and spent each hour in a different house with a different pupil. I became known in the town thanks to my teaching and when I would teach a chapter of the prophets [in the school] with the windows open, men and woman, young and old, would gather in the yard to listen. A few weeks later the wealthy families of Pinsk and Karlin, the families of Luria, Zeitlin, Greenberg and Eisenberg invited me to teach their children.[17] And so I was burdened with work every day from eight o’clock in the morning till eleven o’clock at night. I got to see my only son only on Saturdays and Holidays. My kind father-in-law was very disappointed that I could not spend any time talking to him when he came to visit, for I was terribly busy. With all that I devoted a few hours a week to study science with Rabbi Rosenberg, the principal of the school. Later in his life he wrote the ten-volume book “Otzar Ha-Shemot.” I was not satisfied with teaching the young. I felt I had sufficient talent to propagate my teaching and views among adults as well. Much to my joy I became acquainted with the Rabbi of Pinsk, the great and renowned Rabbi Elazer Moshe Ish Horovitz, one of the greatest luminaries of his generation, a man of clear and broadminded ideas about life in general and Jewish life in particular. The fanatic ultra-Orthodox and the pious Hasidim were displeased with him and regarded him with suspicion. But his vast knowledge of the Talmud and his righteous deeds protected him, and they could do him no harm. At that time he came out publicly against various customs [preceding the Day of Atonement] like “Kaparoth” and “Tashlich.” He was especially irritated with a prayer [recited prior to blowing the Shofar – ram’s horn – on the Days of Awe], which was full of weird named angels, and ordered it to be eliminated from the prayer service in all the synagogues… I became acquainted with this wonderful Rabbi, and was considered as a member of his household and family. He was a wonderful mathematician and excellent grammarian[18]. He spent many hours with me discussing Hebrew grammar and clarifying difficult passages in the Bible using the methods of the modern commentators. It was to him that I divulged my desire to speak to [adult] audiences and he fulfilled it instantly. He sent for the Gabai [synagogue director] of the HeckelmanSchul and ordered the synagogue to be opened every Friday night. I started delivering lectures on the Psalms that very week for a large audience that filled the house completely. I recall these sacred evenings with joy and glee, for they laid the foundation for my sixty- year-long carrier as a preacher, addressing the people of Israel from the pulpit. I gave these lectures for three years, performing this sacred duty for a hundred and fifty evenings and reached chapter 50 of the Psalms. The audience was so enthusiastic that a new institution was formed: “Masliansky’sTehilim Sagen” [The Masliansky Reciting of Psalms]. But there were some benighted fanatics who started to persecute me, seeking evidence to support various religious suspicions and allegations. Tudros the enthusiastic Hasid swore solemnly that he had seen me carrying a handkerchief in my pocket on the Sabbath and Moshe Itzel the bum watched me as I prayed and swore that I did not rise for the prayer “Va-Yevarech David” [and David Blessed] and did not spit during the prayer of Aleinu… But all this was to no avail – they could not disgrace my name or humiliate me in the eyes of the people, who were always ready to protect me in the face of any trouble, may it not befall us. Once in my speech I reached the verse in Psalm 31 [verse 7]: ‘I detest those who rely on empty folly, but I trust in the Lord.’ I then poured my wrath on the superstitions, amulets, incantations, demons and notes placed in graves addressed to the living and the dead. This speech affected all the Hasidim, especially the “confedrazim”, those who have no Rabbi and belong to all the courts. Their fanaticism is ‘unfathomable’ and their wrath is as a ‘spider’s venom.’ They incited groups of little Hasidim, naughty and mischievous, who ran after me in the streets ‘crying after me as a mob’ in strange voices: “wil Gut ist einer, und weiterer keiner” [God is one and there is none beside Him] – the words [of the famous Passover song] with which I ended my speech. My adult persecutors sent a committee to the rich Hasidim whose children I taught, telling them to banish me from their homes, but they were unable to accomplish that, because the great Rabbi Ish Horowitz, learning of their escapades, summoned the chief persecutor, Rabbi “Tudros the Hasid” and reprimanded him and his friends. He ordered them to stop persecuting me, for he knew me well and found no fault in me. The persecutors were frightened and left me alone. ***** [1] Grandfather of Joseph Masliansky. [2] R. Chaim Leib Tikitinsky (1823-1899), Rabbi of Mir and head of its legendary yeshiva. (M.M.) ברוך אומר ועושה :Reference to the daily prayer service [3] .(M.M.) [4] Reference to T.B. Bava Metzia 8b. (M.M.) [5] Earlier he was referring to his engagement when he said “it was as though his heart foretold that in two years time I would be his son-in-law”; the current statement factors in a year-long engagement after which he married his wife. (M.M.) [6] “The Book of the Covenant“, an early 19th century attempt to harmonize natural sciences with Jewish religion and especially mysticism by Rabbi Pinchas Eliahu of Vilna, popular in ultra-Orthodox circles till this day. [7] These three books indicate three ways contemporary Jews would follow in the quest for Haskalah, for broader horizons, beyond the confines of Yeshivah: Systematic study of Hebrew (especially Biblical Hebrew) and grammatically correct usage, leading to proper understanding of the Bible (as against the disorderly treatment of the language in the Rabbinical Responsa of the time); the study of a foreign language to gain access to European Culture (German in early Haskalah, and later, in Russia, Russian as well); the study of natural sciences. [8] This behavior is quite liberal, as the prohibition against touching still applies even to engaged couples in ultra- Orthodox circles till this day. [9] Reference to Gen. 2:25. (M.M.) [10] According to this custom a person’s sins are supposedly transferred to a chicken, which is circled around his or her head. The chicken is later ritually slaughtered and the meat donated to charity. Nowadays this controversial ceremony is often substituted by a monetary donation, yet it is still performed in (mostly Ashkenazi) ultra-Orthodox circles [11] The roots of the sociological structure described here are to be found in the Polish rule over these areas that lasted till the end of the 18th century. The Polish nobility owned vast tracts of land, comprised of rural areas and towns. To manage their rural estates they would hire managers (mostly Jews) who would pay a yearly advance for the operation of the estate or parts of it (such as a mill, an inn with a tavern). The leasers would charge the peasants for the services of the estate and keep the profit at the end of the year. The leaser (called ‘Yeshuvnik’ in Yiddish) and his family were often the only Jews for miles around. Hence the need to hire teachers for their children (as Masliansky was hired by the Rubinstein family) and to gather together for the High Holidays (The Days of Awe). The Russian authorities disapproved of this structure and during the 19th century tried, time and again, to have the Jews expelled from the villages. This effort culminated in the notorious “May Laws” of 1882; This expulsion and resulting lose of livelihood was one of main causes for the emigration to the United States and other countries, as were the actual pogroms that took place sporadically, mostly in southern Ukraine, following the murder of Czar Alexander II by revolutionaries in March 1881. [12] The unrest in the Balkans started in the mid 1870s, but massive Russian intervention on behalf of the Slavic nations and a full scale war between Russia and Turkey did not occur till 1877. The events described here, on the other hand, relate to autumn l874, when Masliansky, born in l856, was eighteen years old. His wedding with Yetta Rubinstein took place in spring l875. When he wrote the memoirs he must have remembered quoting this biblical phrase and explaining it as referring to the tension between Russia and Turkey in the Balkans. This probably led him to assume that the war had already broken out at the time. [13] The complete verse in Obadiah verse 21 reads: “For liberators shall march up on Mount Zion to wreak judgment on Mount Esau; and dominion shall be the Lord’s.” (JPS translation, l978) Masliansky was confident that his audience knew the end of the verse well and could understand his intention. [14] A description of Haman in the book of Esther, 6,12. [15] Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1789), German Jewish philosopher, considered as founder of the movement of Jewish Enlightenment (Haskalah.) [16]Unclear if it is Feigelsohn or Feitelsohn. (M.M.) [17] The Hebrew writer, Yehuda Karni, then a child in Pinsk, gives a vivid description of the excitement and admiration the new teacher arose in the city, see (in Hebrew): N. Tamir- Mirsky, ed., Pinsk, a book of witness and memory of the Pinsk- Karlin community, vol. 2, Tel Aviv, Pinsk Organization in Israel, l966. We thank Prof. Zvi Gitelman of The University of Michigan for this information. [18] Cf. the biographical elegy on him penned by his son in (.M.M) .נחל דמעה ,law, R. Boruch Halevi Epstein ‘Masa’ot Yerushalayim’ and the ‘Sabba Kaddisha’ R. Shlomo Eliezer Alfandari

‘Masa’ot Yerushalayim’ and the ‘Sabba Kaddisha’ R. Shlomo Eliezer Alfandari By: Moshe Maimon One of the greatest and most unique Torah scholars, Sephardic or otherwise, of the past 100 years was R. Shlomo Eliezer Alfandari . His life spanned about a century[1] and his prolific rabbinic career included stints in Istanbul, Damascus, Safed and Jerusalem. Besides for being an outstanding scholar with a near-photographic memory he was also extremely diligent and was a prodigious writer of responsa and novellae. Additionally, he was renowned as an independent thinker and outspoken critic of many of the societal norms prevalent around him including Zionism and modernity, and he had little tolerance for those who he felt had strayed from the torah-true path.[2] This quality earned him many admirers and not a few adversaries, but all admitted that R. Shlomo Eliezer’s sole motivation was the truth and he did nothing for personal gain. Indeed, despite his considerable means, he lived a life of asceticism and completely shunned any form of publicity. Amongst his native Sephardic brethren he was known as ‘Chacham Mercado Alfandari’.[3] This unusual-sounding surname; ‘Mercado’, meaning ‘purchased’ in Ladino, was somewhat common in his native Turkey and was indicative of the fact that it’s bearer had undergone a symbolic ceremony in his youth whereby he was ‘sold’ and redeemed. This practice is mentioned in Sefer Hasidim (#245) and was widespread in Sephardic lands.[4] My Great-uncle, Sam Bension Maimon, himself a Turkish native, in his book The Beauty of Sephardic life (p. 188) has this to say about that interesting custom: This practice of “purchase,” was followed by a family that was blessed with a newborn baby, but had previously suffered the loss of an infant before the new arrival. In order to ensure the life of the muevo nasido (newborn baby), they would go through a formality in which a relative or a friend would “purchase” this baby from the parents, thus transferring ownership. This was done to outsmart the evil spirits and ward off their fatal hold on this family’s offspring that was marked for a fatal accident. So, if it was a boy, he was called Mercado; or if it was a girl, she was called Mercada.[5] Today, however, he is more popularly known as ‘the Sabba Kaddisha’ which was the title bequeathed upon him by the Minchas Elazar of Munkacz; R. Chaim Elazar Shapira, who was largely responsible for bringing this sage to the attention of the greater public especially in Europe among the Ashkenazim. This also was שו”ת – used as the title of his response In a sense, the .הסבא קדישא Munkaczer was also responsible for shaping the perception that many people have of R. Alfandari, as his perspective as detailed in his writings and in Masa’ot Yerushalayim, is the lens through which many see the Sabba Kaddisha. The Munkaczer, after hearing about this extraordinary personality almost completely coincidentally, gradually became convinced that this sage was the ‘Holy elder’ or Sabba Kaddisha of the generation. According to a personal Hassidic tradition he had, the Holy Elder of every generation was capable of bringing the Messiah. This is what drew this great Hassidic leader, born and bred in Ashkenazic/Hassidic Hungary to R. Alfandari, although from a distance it might have seemed that the two made strange bedfellows. R. Alfandari, for his part, was delighted to make the acquaintance of an important Torah leader who shared his extreme views on Zionism and modernity. Masa’ot Yerushalayim; Journey To Jerusalem: A review

There are various sources which provide biographical information on this unique sage,[6] but predominant among them is the detailed account of the Munkaczer Rebbe’s trip to meet R. Alfandari in the late spring of 1930 shortly before the latter’s passing. This account was written by a follower of the Rebbe, who accompanied him on his trip, by the name of R. Moshe Goldstein. The book, entitled Masa’ot Yerushalayim which also contains a biographical section on R. Alfandari[7] was first published 1931 in Munkacz and has been published many times since. This monumental meeting between east and west is a most interesting narrative and in addition to providing insight into the lives of these great scholars, it also allows for a view of pre-war Israel which is the backdrop for this meeting. The book was recently translated into English by Artscroll (in 2009) and is called Journey to Jerusalem. It is this last work which I will focus on. Unfortunately, instead of adhering to their usual high standard and putting in the type of quality effort they have come to be known for into producing a professional edition of this classic, I found it to be lacking in many basic areas. First off, it is essentially just a simple translation from the original, complete with the archaic syntax such as ‘the Holy Rebbe’, ‘the Holy shul’, etc. Generally speaking, such prose, although sounding fine in Rabbinic Hebrew, nevertheless grates on the ears when rendered into English. Additionally, the ’famed’ Artscroll system of transliteration[8] was dropped in the case of this book, instead they adopted in many instances the Hungarian Hasidic mode of pronunciation. Understandably, this can be accepted when mentioning the Minchas Elazar who was known to his Hasidim as the Minchas Eluzar; but what justification is there, on the other hand, for spelling out Rabbi Eluzar son of Rabbi Shimon (p. 136) and Rabbi Eluzar Azikri (p. 157)? In one instance (p. 205) they transliterated the (רודיס) Hebrew spelling of the Isle of Rhodes and thereby refer to “…The great Rabbi Rephael Yitzchak Yisrael, rav of Rudis (!)”. In one case a faulty translation of the original completely corrupts the meaning of the sentence such as when discussing the origin of the famous Abohab Synagogue in Safed the author writes parenthetically: אינו נודע אם זהו בעהמח”ס מנורת המאור או זקינו. In English they got it backwards and wrote (p. 148): It is unclear whether it was he or his grandfather who authored the Menoras Hamaor. So much for style, but when it comes to content there are also quite a few editorial blunders such as when they refer to the Maharit (= Moreinu Harav Yosef diTrani) as Rabbi Yitzchak (!) of Trani (p. 204). One particularly egregious oversight can be found in the following paragraph (from p. 142 – 143): The story is told in the holy Rabbi Shlomo ibn Gabirol’s accounts of his travels in Eretz Yisroel that because of Rabbi Alkabetz’s great wisdom, the gentiles envied him, and an Arab killed him and buried him under a tree in his garden. When the tree bore fruit early, people investigated. The crime was discovered, and the murderer was hanged on that very tree. This story is recorded in the holy work Kav Hayashar (chapter 86) about Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz. Besides for the obvious problem with this story being that R. Shlomo Ibn Gabirol preceeded R. Alkabetz by 500 years, there are two contradictory sources given for this tale, namely the supposed ‘accounts of R. Ibn Gabirol’s travels’ (a non-existent work) and Kav Hayashar. A quick check with the Hebrew Edition will reveal the source of this error. Here is the original: ולפלא, כי המעשה שהביאו בספרי תיירי ארץ הקודש מהקדוש מה״ר שלמה בן גבירול שמרוב חכמתו נתקנאו בו אומות העולם, וישמעאל אחד הרגו והטמינו תחת אילן בגן שלו, ועל ידי שהתאנה חנטה פגיה קודם זמנה חקרו, ואכן נודע הדבר ונתלה הרוצח על אותו אילן, מובא בספר הקדוש קב הישר (פרק פ״ו) על מה״ר שלמה אלקבץ ז״ל, יעיין שם. What he is saying is that he was amazed to find that different accounts of tourists’ travels in Israel record a story supposedly about R. Shlomo Ibn Gabirol, while in Kav Hayashar it is reported to have happened to R. Shlomo Alkabetz. This is indeed an important bibliographical point, but In truth this legend is actually quoted in Shalshelet hakaballah regarding Ibn Gabirol[9] and although the authenticity of this sefer is often questioned, there can be no doubt that the legend predates R. Shlomo Alkabetz and indeed no contemporary sources indicate that R. Alkabetz had anything but a peaceful end. Even though all early prints of Kav Hayashar that I have checked say R. Shlomo Alkabetz, the context leaves no doubt that it is a mistake and should read Ibn Gabirol.[10] Censorship and political correctness in Masa’ot Yerushalayim

It is clear that the English edition is a translation from the latest Hebrew Edition published in 2003[11] by Emes publishing ltd. (the official publishing house of the Munkacz Hasidim in Brooklyn).[12] This addition is somewhat different from the first edition and I am not sure on what basis these changes were made. In addition to the footnotes which were actually parenthetical remarks included in the text in the original they have added numerous footnotes expanding and cross- referencing the material[13] and there is no differentiation made between the original footnotes and the later ones. There are also various differences in the text itself. For instance the original edition when describing the Grave of R. Haim ibn Attar, (the author of Ohr Hachaim) the first edition (p.25b) adds: ‘סמוך למנוחת האוה”ח הקדוש שם ג”כ מנוחת אשתו ושתי יבמות שהיו לו לנשים’ The 2003 edition is less shocking in it’s revelation by stating instead: ‘סמוך למנוחת האור החיים הקדוש שם גם כן מנוחת שתי נשיו‘ This is also the version found in the English translation and if memory serves correct, contemporary restorations at the actual gravesite reflect the veracity of the later edition. In fact, this may be the reason they took the initiative, justified or not, to change the text.[14] On another occasion the altering of the text was clearly intended to avoid possible fallout with today’s Yeshiva adherents. I refer you to the passage in the first edition (p.87b-88a) which recounts how certain members of the Hareidi Rabbis of Jerusalem approached the Munkaczer Rebbe in an attempt to find a solution to the problem of the negative effect the recently established Hebroner yeshiva was having on native Jerusalmite youth on account of the former’s modern style of dress.[15] The Rebbe hastened to consult with R. Alfandari who wisely advised him not to make a commotion over it as such a fuss would only have negative ‘political results’. It reads like this: בהיות רבנו שליט”א בתוככי ירושלים באו אליו גדולים חקרי לב מהרבנים החרדים שם ליהנות ממנו עצה ותושי’ כדת מה לעשות ע”ד ישיבת סלאבאדקע שהיתה מלפנים בחברון ואחר הפרעות והשחיטות ר”ל נעתקו משם וקבעו ישיבתם בירושלים והמה רובם ככולם (אם כי למדנים הם) הולכי קצוצי פאות וזקן ומגדלי בלורית ורגילים לזה ממדינתם ובהיותם בחברון שאין שם ישוב חסידים מהאשכנזים כ”כ לא הזיקו לאחרים משא”כ פה בקרתא דשופריא עיר מלאה חכמים חסידי עליון ירעו וישחיתו לנו ולבנינו ותלמידי ישיבתנו שילמדו מהם ח”ו בדמותם כצלמם. רבנו בשמעו את כל התלאה הזאת הלך להתייעץ עם הסבא קדישא הרב מהרש”א אם להרעיש עליהם כעת אחרי שנמלטו על נפשם מהפראים וכו’. והוא השיב בחכמת שלמ”ה אשר בקרבו כי יש לחוש בעודם בחמימות מהרוגי חברון שנשחטו גם מתלמידי ישיבתם (ובתוכם יראי ה’ הי”ד) ואם ירעישו עליהם יכנסו תחת כנפי אותו האיש קוק וכל משרד הרבנות הציונית שר”י ועי”ז יתרבה חילם עי ישיבת סלאבאדקי מפורסמת בעולם והראש מתיבתא שלהם מפורסם ללמדן ע”כ שוא”ת עדיף כעת… וכשאני לעצמי כשבאו תלמידי סלאבאדקא לביתי לדבר דברי תורה, וראיתים בלי זקן ופיאות ומגדלי בלורית, אמרתי להם על הכתוב (שיר השירים ב, יד) הראיני את מראיך (צלם אלקים על פי התורה. ואחר כך) השמיעיני את קולך בדברי תורה. אבל כשהוא ההיפך לא אדבר עמכם, ודחיתים כי הם באמת מחריבי קרתא קדישא. וכן יעשה גם הדר״ת להזהיר לאנשי שלומו ויראי אלקים להתרחק מישיבתם, אבל לא לצאת עתה בקול רעש מטעם הנ”ל עכתד”ה. The 2003 edition censors this passage and simply writes: בהיות רבינו שליט״א בתוככי ירושלים באו אליו גדולים חקרי לב מהרבנים החרדים שם ליהנות ממנו עצה ותושיה כדת מה לעשות על דבר פרצה מיוחדת שנפרצה בעיר ה׳. ושאל רבנו להסבא קדישא מה לעשות במחיצת כרם בית ישראל שנפרצה. וענה לו הסבא קדישא כי יש לחוש וכו’ על כן שב ואל תעשה עדיף כעת… וכן סיפר הסבא קדיש אל רבינו כשבאו תלמידי ישיבה מסוימתלביתי לדבר דברי תורה, וראיתים בלי זקן ופיאות ומגדלי בלורית, אמרתי להם על הכתוב (שיר השירים ב, יד) הראיני את מראיך (צלם אלקים על פי התורה. ואחר כך) השמיעיני את קולך בדברי תורה. אבל כשהוא ההיפך לא אדבר עמכם, ודחיתים כי הם באמת מחריבי קרתא קדישא. וכן יעשה גם הדר״ת להזהיר לאנשי שלומו ויראי אלקים להתרחק מהם, אבל לא לצאת עתה בקול רעש, עד כאן תורף דבריו הקדושים. There is no reason to suspect that this was done to protect the identity of R. Kook, because this edition shows little sympathy for R. Kook, in fact in the preceding paragraphs dealing with R. Alfandari’s opposition to R. Kook, the Chief Rabbinate[16], and even to Agudath Israel, nothing is omitted and the material is buttressed with lengthy footnotes detailing all the letters written by various Rabbis opposing Zionism in general and the Chief Rabbinate in particular. It is obvious that sensitivities for the Slabodka Yeshiva are at the root of this censorship. This is also why the next passage (from p. 88a), which I am loath to reproduce here, detailing R. Alfandari’s assessment of R. M.M. Epstein and R. Kook is also omitted in the 2003 edition. Needless to say the English edition not only follows lead of the 2003 edition in censoring the Slabodka passages but also omits all of the anti R. Kook passages such as this one, from p. 229 in the 2003 edition: כשבאו אליו אח”כ אנשים גם רבנים או אדמורי״ם שבאו לא”י, ושמע שהיו אצל ׳קוק׳ רב חראשי של המשרד חציונית והחפשים, לא אבה לקבלם להכניסם לביתו, ואמר הלא כבר היה אצל קוק[17] ומה יחפצו ממני, ומדוע אתם פוסחים על שתי חסעיפים. Gone too are the following statements regarding Agudath Israel attributed to R. Alfandari, and with them a possible window into the special relationship he shared with the Munkaczer: פעם אחד שאלו אותו לחוות דעתו בענין האגודה. והשיב שאין חילוק בין הציונים והמזרחים והאגודים רק בשמא, וחוט המקיף את כולם הוא הכסף והשתררות ולא כבוד שמים. על כן היה אוהב מאוד כששמע מצדיק ואדמו״ר אשר לא כרע לבעל לשום אחת מהמפלגות וכתות הנזכרים לעיל, ואדרבה מוחה בהם ומקנא קנאת ה׳ צבאות. ואמר כי מדה זו אהוב לו מן הכל ועולה על כולנה יותר מבקיאות התורה והפלגה בחסידות וזכות אבות, אם כי רב הוא. Understandably, the English speaking audience this book is intended for is not as virulently anti-Zionist as the Munkacz/Satmar Hasidic base that the Hebrew edition was intended for and certainly wouldn’t countenance any anti-Agudah sentiments and therefore excised the more extreme passages from its translation. It is therefore all the more surprising that the following passage got by the careful eye of the censor and made it into the English edition on P. 178: We found out that the main reason they did not keep their word was because they were afraid of their rabbi and leader, Yaakov Maier, a member of the official rabbinate, which the Sabba Kaddisha strenuously opposed. Immediately after the Sabba Kaddisha’s demise the zealous Torah scholars of Jerusalem warned Yaakov Maier not to come eulogize him. Obviously they did not realize that despite R. Yaakov Meir’s affiliation with the Rabbinate as the Sephardic Rishon L’zion, nevertheless he was widely respected by virtually all segments of orthodox Jewry[18]. Indeed another popular Artscroll biography actually lauds R. Yaakov Meir for forging a close connection with Jerusalem’s Ultra-Orthodox Eidah Hachareidit and working together with them on various occasions.[19] Most likely, the American proofreader did not know who this famous Israeli-Sephardic personality was and thus allowed this disrespectful passage though. In conclusion

The biographical information available on R. Alfandari is sparse, and precious little of it pertains to the bulk of his life before his move to Jerusalem in his final decade. There is certainly much more to the picture we could gain from a fuller biography of his life, also taking into perspective the vastly different milieu that he sprouted from. Yet, the detailed picture we have from the period of the Munkaczer’s visit certainly is an accurate portrayal of at least one dimension of his great personality. As I have demonstrated, the reader is best served consulting the original version where possible to obtain a more complete and accurate snapshot of this historic encounter. In the case of R. Alfandari, this sort of contest for understanding and presenting his legacy is a testament to his greatness, his broad appeal, and to his own multi-faceted personality. He is certainly worthy of further in-depth study, and a full-length professional biography would certainly give us much to learn from and be inspired. However, this will only be true if the study is free of the constraints of bias and preconceived notions.

[1] It is difficult to pinpoint his exact year of birth and many different dates have been given. Masa’ot Yerushalayim, on the basis of a statement of R. Shlomo Eliezer regarding his involvement in the Damascus Blood Libel of 1840, assumes that he had to have been born at least by 1810 and thereby making him 120 years old at the time of his death in 1930. In Ohalei ר’ Shem (pinsk 1912) p. 507 he is mistakenly referred to as ,חיים(!) מירקאדו אלפנדרי and this has caused many to overlook his entry there, but there it states that he was born in 1846. Most sources give 1826 as the year of his birth. [2] This quality was unique even among Ashkenazic Rabbis of that era but certainly among the Sephardic Rabbis. See what R. Yosef-Zundel of Salant had to say about his Sephardic contemporaries in Ha-tzaddik R. Yosef Zundel M’Salant p. 37 to רבני‘ wit הספרדים שיחיו…אעפ”י שהם ת”ח וצדיקים אכן אין הם יודעים מעניני האשכנזים כלל… ודאי כוונתם לש”ש אמנם יותר טוב היה להם השתיקה ולא להתערב . ’בעניני האשכנזים [3] His name has understandably been misunderstood and misspelled by Ashkenazic writers. See for example: Mara D’ara Yisrael vol. 2 page 201 where he is .כמהר”ר אלעזר מלכאדו אלפנדרי addressed as [4] In fact, the Hida writes in glosses to Sefer Hasidim (Brit Olam ad. loc.): בראותי דברי רבנו הנאני דכך נוהגים במדינת‘ See also the .’תוגרמה ומתקיימים ונמצא שרש הענין בדברי רבנו ז”ל other sources referenced in R. Margolies edition. R. Eliezer Brodt pointed out that some Ashkenazic scholars have also followed the advice of Sefer Hasidim, such as the Aderet; see his Seder Eliyahu p. 30. [5] The practice of calling a child by anything other than his given surname may seem strange today but it had a parallel among Sephardim not too long ago, where many firstborns were called “B’chor” to the point of where his official surname was all but forgotten. See Keter Shem Tov (Keidan 1934) vol. 1 p. 680 המנהג‘ :where he writes בא”י וסת”מ כשנולד בן בכור, מלבד שם העריסה, קוראין אותו בשם “בכור” ולנקבה “בכורה”, ושם העריסה משתקע לגמרי. ואם יש לו .’משרה דתית קוראים לו רבי בכור, חכם בכור, או האדון בכור [6] Including articles in these two publications here and here. The latter article by R. Aharon Surasky was later expanded and included in his Orot Hamizrach. [7] This section was printed recently as the introduction to a new work of R. Alfandari’s published from manuscript by Ahavat Shalom (2011), as part of new initiative to publish more of his writings, called Yakhel Shlomo. Surprisingly, they attribute the article to the noted Jerusalem Kabbalist R. Yeshaya Asher Zelig Margolies. I am not sure how they could have made that mistake since it was clearly part of R. Goldstein’s work although he does credit R. Margolies, among others, for providing him with valuable information on R. Alfandari. [8] See here. [9] See here. The language used by R. Goldstein is too similar to that of Shalshelet Hakabbalah to be a coincidence and it is therefore surprising that he gave such a vague reference. The story is also recounted in Divrei Yosef (Jerusalem 2011) p. 81 with regards to R. Shlomo Ibn Gabirol. [10] In the edition published by Machon Haktav (Jerusalem 2001) availablehere they have corrected it but leave no clue as to on what basis they did so. The legend itself has been shown to be inaccurate. See Yeshurun 25 pp. 769-770 and also R. Eliezer Brodt’s fine article here. [11] The prologue to the mistakenly ,תשסד English edition, basing itself on the Hebrew claims it was published in 2004. [12] Available here. [13]Some of which just don’t make any sense, such as this one (from the English edition p. 152): ‘Rabbeinu David ibn Zimra, who taught much Torah and had many great students. He wrote over 2000 halachic rulings, of which only 300 were printed.’ I can’t figure out what is the basis for this statement as there are actually well over 2000 responsa printed from the Radvaz. [14] R. E. M. Reich pointed out that in Toldot Chachmei Yerushalayim vol. 3 p. 10, the author states that although according to folklore the two women buried adjacent to the Ohr Hachaim ,יבמות were in reality they were his two wives. Interestingly enough, the account in Masa’ot Yerushalayim mentions three women altogether. It would seem that Toldot Chachmei Yerushalayim is the source for this change as you can tell by looking at the interesting footnote in the 2003 ed. (ad. loc.) which was lifted מקובל :straight from Toldot Chachmei Yerushalayim. To wit כי הן .היו נשים גדולות ומופלאות במעשיהן, ומנהגיהן היה להתעטף בטלית ולהתלבש בתפלין על דרך שאיתא במיכל בת שאול The only difference is that in Toldot Chachmei Yerushalayim this is only reported with regards to the second of his two wives. See also R. Rueven Margolies’ Toldot R. Chaim ibn Attar pp 45-46. Interestingly, he records in יבמות an unsubstantiated report that there were four addition to the two wives. [15] It is noteworthy that R. Dov Cohen, a Slobodka student at that time, reported that the transition to Jerusalem was smooth ‘and almost completely devoid of any opposition’. See his memoirs: Vayelchu Shneihem Yachdav (Feldheim 2009) p. 250. [16] R. Alfandari was so opposed to the Rabbinate that when he heard that R. Tzvi Pesah Frank, who had been close with him, had become involved with the Rabbinate, he remarked that חמץ שנמצא‘ it was I heard this .’בפסח from a descendant of R. Asher Zelig Margolies. [17] It is instructive that in a written correspondence reproduced on p. 228 of the 2003 ed., R. Alfandari refers to R. even when disagreeing הר’ מהרא”י קוק ה”י Kook respectfully as with him sharply. It may be the zealotry of R. Goldstein who saw fit to leave out the honorifics in this quotation. [18] To be sure, his appointment to this position after the death R. Elyashar in 1906, was not without controversy, as many favored R. Elyashar’s son to succeed him over the Alliance-trained and Zionist-inclined R. Yaakov Meir. In some cases he proved himself to be too right-wing for some factions, such as when he opposed the Vaad Ha’leumi for giving women the right to vote. See B’toch Hachomot (Jerusalem 1948) pp. 334-335. [19] See Guardian of Jerusalem (Artscroll 1983) p. 401.