Jewish Action Summer 2023

Summer 2023/5783

OU KOSHER CENTENNIAL SPOTLIGHT

Rabbi Berel Wein

By Steve Lipman

HEALTH AND WELLNESS

Taking Charge of Your Health

By Rachel Schwartzberg

COVER STORY THROUGH THEIR EYES: ISRAEL AT 75

The Medinah: Through a Torah Lens Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik; Rabbi Dr. Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog; Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin; Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank; Rabbi Yehuda Amital; Rabbi Yaakov Friedman; Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein

The Birth of the Jewish State: Rabbinic Views and Perspectives

Compiled and translated by Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski

The Return to Zion

An Excerpt

By Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik

Voices of Faith: Memories of 1948

By Rabbanit Miriam Hauer, Rabbanit Puah Shteiner and Rabbi Berel Wein

Interviews by Toby Klein Greenwald

A Bridge of Paper

By Charlotte Friedland

DEPARTMENTS

LETTERS

PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

Zionism

By Mitchel R. Aeder

FROM THE DESK OF RABBI MOSHE HAUER

The Gift of Israel

ON MY MIND

The Allure and Illusion of Ownership

By Moishe Bane

JUST BETWEEN US

What’s So Great about Being a Jewish Educator?

By Rabbi Rick Schindelheim

KOSHERKOPY

Unscrambling the Kashrut of Eggs

THE CHEF’S TABLE Cool It

By Naomi Ross

LEGAL-EASE

“What’s the Truth about the Kotel Being Judaism’s Holiest Site?”

INSIDE THE OU

By Sara Goldberg and Batsheva Moskowitz

INSIDE PHILANTHROPY

New Grant Bolsters OU Program

Providing Financial Counseling

BOOKS

Gratitude with Grace: An Inspirational and Practical Approach to Living Life as a Gift

By Sarah S. Berkovits

Reviewed by Alexandra Fleksher

Across the Expanse of Jewish Thought: From the Holocaust to Halakhah and Beyond

By Hillel Goldberg

Reviewed by Ben Rothke

LASTING IMPRESSIONS

Our Tenth Aliyaversary By David

Olivestone

magazine contains divrei Torah and should therefore be disposed of respectfully by either double-wrapping prior to disposal or placing in a recycling bin. 83

Cover: Andréia Brunstein-Schwartz

By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

FROM THE DESK OF RABBI DR. JOSH JOSEPH

This Jewish Action is published by the Orthodox Union • 40 Rector Street, 4th Floor, New York, NY 10006, 212.563.4000. Printed Quarterly—Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, plus Special Passover issue. ISSN No. 0447-7049. Subscription: $16.00 per year; Canada, $20.00; Overseas, $60.00. Periodical's postage paid at New York, NY, and additional offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Jewish Action, 40 Rector Street, New York, NY 10006.

shortcomings I had witnessed. He then asked me whether I had raised these concerns with the supervising rabbi. I had not. Rav Nota told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was responsible to call the rabbi and note to him what I had seen that was subpar.

On his next visit to Buffalo, Rav Nota asked me what the rabbi had replied. I told him that I had been remiss in calling. To this, Rav Nota replied: “You have a responsibility to tell him that there is a problem. Whether he does anything about it is his issue, but that does not take away from your responsibility.”

In one case, a woman, married in an Orthodox ceremony, had remarried (without obtaining a get) and borne a child from the second marriage—a serious question of mamzeirus. When I shared with Rav Nota a halachic approach that perhaps might save this child from being a mamzer, he did not answer. This was his way of demonstrating that he felt the approach was not halachically correct. A while later, he said to me, “The next generation’s Rav Moshe will need to answer this she’eilah.”

Rabbi Yirmiyohu Kaganoff Jerusalem, Israel

A recent Jewish Action issue included a superb essay entitled “OU Kosher: The Inside Story.” Rabbi Menachem Genack’s historical insights are cogent, particularly the differences in the kosher consumer of yesterday compared to today.

I lived with my grandparents growing up. I still remember my grandmother kashering meat in the kitchen.

We have, under Rabbi Menachem Genack’s inspired leadership, made great strides over the decades. The OU and Jewish Action provide tremendous leadership to the observant Jewish community.

Dr. Steven Huberman Founding dean emeritus and professor of social work administration

Touro University Graduate School of Social Work New York, New York

NAVIGATING WIDOWHOOD

I’ve been enjoying the informative articles in the spring 2023 issue and appreciate your coverage about widows and widowers (“Navigating Widowhood in the Frum Community,” by Merri Ukraincik) and others in the frum community who unfortunately go off the community’s radar. We need to remember everyone in our community. Yasher koach to Jewish Action for highlighting this. Keep up the good work!

Rachel Steinerman

Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania

I cannot fully express my loneliness after losing my husband, my best friend. I have not been to shul since he passed away months ago. None of those who davened with my husband

reached out to me. I feel I have no place. I went away for Purim and came back to an empty house. No one left mishloach manot at my door.

Rabbis should be calling the almanos of their shuls on a regular basis to ask how they and their families are. We all need chizuk, and we need to know that people care.

A widow

Merri Ukraincik’s article about widows and widowers in the frum community was great. The interviews were eye-openers. I had thought of myself as a hard person, but now I realize that it was just a way to cope with what is, at times, a lonely way of life.

Miriam Ravitz Edison, New Jersey

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

To send a letter to Jewish Action, e-mail ja@ou.org. Letters may be edited for clarity.

PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

ZIONISM

our hearts still broken by the losses of so many Jewish soldiers and terror victims, including too many recent and raw losses, we gathered to express our gratitude to Hashem for the blessing of being in Israel, in Yerushalayim. And to pray for peace and redemption.

seventy-five years old and the strongest country in the Middle East?

By Mitchel R. Aeder

Ihad the incredible zechut (and also the zechus!) to spend Yom Ha’atzmaut 75 in Yerushalayim. As the wrenching sadness and stoic determination of Yom Hazikaron faded and the mood brightened, I joined thousands (literally) at an exhilarating and uplifting musical Tefillah Chagigit sponsored by OU Israel. Yom Ha’atzmaut is such a special—and complicated—day. With

And yet, there is dissonance. I live in New York. Am I an impostor, an outsider, a voyeur on Yom Ha’atzmaut—especially in Israel? However often I visit, I am a visitor. I consider myself to be a Zionist. Here are my Zionist bona fides: I was a member of a Zionist youth group while in high school. I spent a summer working on a kibbutz. My shul recites Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim (without a berachah). I still get misty-eyed when I hear the haunting ballad “Yerushalayim shel Zahav.” I attended ulpan twice. Three of my children have made aliyah. I buy blue-and-white cookies for my children and grandchildren.

And yet . . . I live in New York.

Let’s put “Zionism” to the side. I submit that when it comes to our relationship with the State of Israel— not any particular party or politician or policy, but its very existence—we actually agree much more than we disagree. Here is a partial list of propositions about which I suspect there is something of an American Orthodox Jewish (dare I say?) consensus:

1. We care deeply about Israel (whether we refer to it as Israel or Medinat Yisrael or Eretz Yisrael). We follow the politics and other goings-on there closely, often more closely than we follow the news about the US. We grieve when there is a terrorist attack. We send money.

2. We have strong opinions about what happens in Israel, even though we do not have a vote.

This article is dedicated to the memory of my father-in-law, Dr. Jaime Sznajder, a”h, who passed away this Yom Ha’atzmaut. Grandpa loved all Jews, from Bundists to Satmar Chassidim. He was a passionate Zionist who had a close relationship with the late chief rabbi, Rabbi Shlomo Goren, zt”l. Yehi zichro baruch.

Alas, Zionism is a trigger word for so many, both within and outside of our community.1 Pre-1948, Zionism was a fault line between different political, economic and religious factions within the Jewish community. Among leading Orthodox rabbis, there were sharply divergent views about the appropriateness of establishing a state. Within Israel, these divergences persist and manifest in important political, tribal and cultural differences that impact on identity.

Zionism in Israel is tied up with identity and politics. But what does it mean to be a Zionist who chooses to live in the United States and not in Israel? And what does it mean to be a non-Zionist when the State of Israel is

3. We are very happy and grateful to Hashem that Israel exists, however flawed its founders and current leaders may be.2 We do not think the Jewish people and the dissemination of Torah would be in a better place had “Palestine” been governed for the past seventy-five years by the Turks, the British or the Jordanians.

4. We are very happy and grateful to Hashem that Israel has a strong army and defense force that are far superior to those of its neighbors. We believe the physical security of Israel is provided by Hashem, and Torah and mitzvot are crucial in this regard, while our hishtadlut requires a strong army, weaponry and technology as well. These beliefs do not preclude us from debating, from the comfort of our

Mitchel R. Aeder is president of the Orthodox Union.

DEEPLY ROOTED VALUES THAT MOVE HISTORY FORWARD

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Science & Technology THAT MOVE HISTORY FORWARD

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We have set an unprecedented goal of raising $613 million over five years—the largest campaign for Jewish education in history—for scholarships, facilities, and faculty that will further expand YU as the flagship Jewish university for generations to come. Now is the time to honor your past and invest in your future. Join

living rooms, the merits of Chareidi enlistment in the IDF.

5. The learning of Torah—for men, women and children—has flourished in Israel for the last seventy-five years both qualitatively and quantitatively. Many of us have studied Torah in Israel and/or have sent our children to study Torah in Israel. For many of us, Torat Eretz Yisrael (or the Torah we learned while in Eretz Yisrael) has propelled our religious growth more than any other factor.

6. We love to visit Eretz Yisrael. The Kotel, Kever Rachel and Ein Gedi would exist without a State of Israel, though I query whether we would have access to them. Everything built since 1948? Highly doubtful.

7. Our commitment to Israel is not conditional on the makeup of the government on any particular day.

8. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we believe instinctively that the creation of the State of Israel has religious significance, even if we do not often think about this. The Shoah had religious significance, which we acknowledge on Yom HaShoah or Tishah B’Av. How could the return to Tzion of what now constitutes nearly half of world Jewry not be equally significant in Jewish religious history?3 Yes, some claim they know what that religious significance is, while others humbly demur and prefer to wait until Hashem reveals His plan. But significant it is.4

So what about Israel/Zionism do we disagree about so passionately? And I am speaking about Israel’s existence, not its internal politics and culture. Whether we culturally and hashkafically align more with Gush Etzion or Bnei Brak is not relevant to this conversation.

Yom Ha’atzmaut remains a flash point. Some of us celebrate and say Hallel to thank Hashem for the miracle of Israel’s existence and continued flourishing. Others cannot fathom adding to the religious calendar and changing nusach ha’tefillah for a day established by non-religious Jews, a day whose date shifts year to year

and whose celebration often clashes with the minhagim of the Sefirah period.5 The differences here are stark, but no more so than the differences in religious practice and customs between different communities, and these latter do not generate the same passion.6

If I am correct, then, American Orthodox Jews outside the Chassidic communities are in broad agreement about Israel 364 days a year. That’s not bad for Jews. For that one day, it would be wonderful if we could

To be a Zionist, or a non-Zionist, living in America in 2023/5783 is to live with dissonance. We love Eretz Yisrael, but our embrace is not complete . . . yet. We are more than visitors but less than full participants in this magnificent and complicated project of Jewish history. We are dreamers.8 V’techezenah eineinu b’shuvcha l’Tzion b’rachamim.

Notes

1. Of course, Zionism has been catnip for antisemites. Infamously, the UN in 1975 equated Zionism with racism, sparking massive demonstrations (of unity!) in New York and elsewhere and permanently staining the UN as an institution, even after the declaration was repealed.

2. The theological objection of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, zt”l, of Satmar to the creation of a sovereign Jewish state in Israel before the advent of the Messianic era has not achieved wide acceptance outside of his community.

3. In 1949, Winston Churchill said: “The coming into being of a Jewish State in Palestine is an event in world history to be viewed in the perspective not of a generation or a century, but in the perspective of a thousand, two thousand or even three thousand years.”

4. Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm, z”l, objected to including “reishit semichat Geulateinu” in the Prayer for the Peace of the State of Israel as “spiritual arrogance” . . . “I prefer to view the events of our time as providential and not (necessarily) Messianic” (Seventy Faces: Articles of Faith, vol. 2 [New Jersey, 2002], p. 216).

all acknowledge that the other side’s position is not unreasonable, despite our strong disagreements. Something to work on.

And, as noted above, the word “Zionist” is a trigger.7 Those of us who identify strongly with Israel but who choose (choose!) to live in chutz la’Aretz should perhaps be a little more humble about using the Zionist moniker. And those from the other camp should perhaps acknowledge that there are a great many good Jews and Torah scholars among the “Zionists.”

5. A head of school once told me that the question most asked by prospective parents was whether the school said Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut. (Some of the parents strongly wanted the answer to be yes, others the opposite.) He shook his head in wonder that the school’s curriculum and educational philosophy were of less concern than what happens for ten minutes one morning in Iyar.

6. I attended a Shacharit minyan on Yom Ha’atzmaut this year where Hallel was recited with a berachah. At my Minchah minyan up the block, Tachanun was said.

7. An Israeli Chareidi rabbi who was speaking recently to an American audience was asked about aliyah. After waxing eloquent about the benefits (and some challenges) of living in Israel, he paused and said with a twinkle in his eye: “But don’t accuse me of being a Zionist. I don’t want to be kicked out of my own shul!”

8. See Tehillim 126:1.

Those of us who identify strongly with Israel but who choose (choose!) to live in chutz la’Aretz should perhaps be a little more humble about using the Zionist moniker.

PLEASE

VEGAN

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• •ALLNATURAL

READY TO EATIN

MINUTES

FROM THE DESK OF RABBI MOSHE HAUER

THE GIFT OF ISRAEL

been restored to our Land and our Land has been restored to us.

True gratitude requires recognition and appreciation of every dimension of the gift. That recognition allows us in turn to utilize the gift to the fullest, as well as to identify and navigate its associated challenges. Toward that end, we need to consider what we have gained from our return to Eretz Yisrael and from the creation of Medinat Yisrael.

By Rabbi Moshe Hauer

Shehecheyanu v’kiymanu v’higianu lazman hazeh, latkufah hazot, lamakom hazeh

We are a blessed generation, living the dreams and prayers of millennia. Seventy-five years ago, the State of Israel was declared as a Jewish homeland on our ancestral holy land. Since that time, that besieged and impoverished State of 600,000 has grown to become the home of a near majority of the Jewish people; it’s an active and vibrant spiritual center and a hub of industrial, scientific, agricultural and economic innovation for the world. While we mark this milestone in the dark shadows of profound internal strife and external threats, we must not fail to express our deepest gratitude to G-d for the unique privilege of living in this period of history in which we have

Maharal of Prague1 observed that galut, the exile of the Jewish people, includes three principal negative components: national subjugation, dispersion and dislocation from our home. Rabbi Yehoshua Hartman2 insightfully notes that these elements are included in the blessing we recite in the daily Amidah prayer in which we ask G-d to end our exile: “Sound the great shofar of our liberation (from subjugation), raise the flag that will unite our exiles (from dispersion), and gather us (from dislocation) to our Land from the four corners of the earth.” Each of these three elements has deep and visible contemporary resonance, and each represents a component of the opportunities and challenges that lie ahead.

that drove the United Nations to grant our people a place of refuge. The thousands who arrived in Palestine to escape Russian pogroms and persecution before and after the turn of the twentieth century became the more than one hundred thousand who arrived in the State of Israel from the DP camps in Europe. Jews persecuted and made unwelcome in their countries of residence now had a place that would unconditionally welcome them home. The Law of Return codified this dimension of the State of Israel, granting immediate citizenship to any Jew who asked for it. Millions did, coming in waves from North Africa and the Middle East, Argentina and France, Ethiopia and the Former Soviet Union. The Law of Return was in a sense expanded by the heroic Entebbe rescue operation in July 1976, which demonstrated the principled commitment of the State to the safety and the rescue of Jews everywhere, not only allowing them to return but also bringing them home.3

As North American Jews who tend to view aliyah as an expression of idealism, we must not lose sight of the lifesaving and liberating role the State of Israel has played, recognizing that it is this form of aliyah that has been numerically dominant in the story of the modern return to Zion.

CHEIRUTEINU/LIBERATION: PROVIDING REFUGE

While the initial seeds of our return to Zion were rooted in a love for the Land, the driving forces in the creation of the State were antisemitism and the Holocaust. It was antisemitism that moved Herzl to create the Zionist movement, and it was the Holocaust

KIBBUTZ GALUYOT/UNITY: POWERING JEWISH IDENTITY

Israel has been a significant unifying force in Jewish life. We can never cease to be amazed by the literal ingathering

Rabbi Moshe Hauer is executive vice president of the Orthodox Union.

of the exiles from all four corners of the earth that we encounter in any visit to an Israeli market, hospital, prayer service or Knesset subcommittee. But it goes far beyond that.

On the day that King Solomon built the Beit Hamikdash, he defined it as the place toward which Jews everywhere would direct their prayers. “That you will hear the pleas of Your servant, of Your people Israel, that they shall pray via this place.”4 Jerusalem, the city that binds us all together, k’ir shechubrah lah yachdav, 5 became the tel talpiyot, the hill toward which all mouths turned in sincere prayer.6 Every synagogue in the world is built with an orientation that places the holy ark on the front wall such that it directs the congregation in prayer toward the unifying spiritual center of the Jewish people, the Temple in Jerusalem.

In contemporary Jewish life, the unifying power of the Land and the State of Israel has become even more tangible.

In an oft-quoted comment, Rabbi Saadia Gaon declared in the twelfth century that “it is only through the Torah that our nation is a nation.”7 This is an unchanging truism that describes what has enabled Jews to survive as a people throughout millennia of exile and dispersion in foreign lands. We took the Torah with us wherever we went, rejoicing in its study and disciplined in its observance, thereby maintaining our distinct identity. But that commitment to Torah has weakened significantly over the past two centuries as Jews throughout the exile have become increasingly alienated from Torah knowledge and observance. Given that tragic reality, how would the Jews—the people whose nationhood is realized only through the Torah—survive as a people?

G-d in His ultimate kindness and visible providence provided the solution in the form of the renewed national interest in the Land of Israel. As Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov Reines, the founder of Religious Zionism, wrote, the Zionist movement helped people who were running from their identity as Jews to instead embrace it.8 This phenomenon has continued visibly

since the founding of the State, as for the vast majority of Diaspora Jews it is not Judaism but the State of Israel— both concern for its safety and pride in its accomplishments—that has united and galvanized them as Jews and served as the most effective anchor of their Jewish identity. In a pragmatic sense, it appears that G-d’s interim solution to the challenge of assimilation and the preservation of Jewish identity was the creation of the Jewish State.9

The critical role of Israel in forging Jewish identity is underscored in the

The State of Israel’s role in strengthening the Jewish identity of Diaspora Jews was acknowledged and formally codified in the Nation-State Law adopted by the Knesset in 2018. There it is declared that “the State shall act in the Diaspora, to strengthen the affinity between the State and members of the Jewish People,” and “the State shall act to preserve the cultural, historical, and religious heritage of the Jewish People among Jews of the Diaspora.”12 While during the first decades of the State, Israel’s survival was significantly dependent on material and political support coming from Diaspora Jewry, today the situation is somewhat reversed as the Jewish identity of large segments of Diaspora Jewry depends on the State. Racheim al Tziyon ki hi beit chayeinu

most practical sense in the TaglitBirthright Israel project. This effort targeting young adults takes them to Israel for ten days of immersion in the Jewish story and exposure to Israelis and Israeli life. The project has broadly united the organized Jewish community, which sees it as an effective tool to enhance the Jewish identity of those who are not ready to make a significant personal commitment to Judaism. Birthright trips are not just a nice idea. In the two decades of their existence, studies have shown that Jews who participated in Birthright Israel trips were more likely than peers who applied but did not participate, to marry somebody Jewish, feel a deeper connection to Israel and observe Jewish holidays.10 These statistics are elevated significantly for MASA programs that provide a variety of extended immersive Israel experiences.11

This notion should not only be a cause for gratitude and part of our expression of appreciation for the gift of Israel. It must also guide our behavior, our communications and our policies. Preserving that sense of identity between Diaspora Jewry and the State of Israel is a paramount responsibility that both Israeli and other Jewish leaders must have top of mind. And while it would be self-defeating to compromise elements of the State’s Jewish character for this purpose, sensitivity in communication and in implementation of policies can go a long way toward maintaining Diaspora Jewry’s essential bond and identification with Israel.

3.

L’ARTZEINU/TO OUR LAND: BUILDING A JEWISH STATE

A complete Jewish life can only be achieved in the redeemed Land of Israel.13 This is not only due to the inapplicability of the Land-based and Temple-based mitzvot outside of Israel, but because when we live under the authority of other nations, the societal environment, character, values and laws are defined by those others. In that context, the most Jews and Judaism can hope for is the freedom to practice our faith within the narrow confines of

. . . it appears that G-d’s interim solution to the challenge of assimilation . . . was the creation of the Jewish State.

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religious and ritual study and practice. In our own land, however, we can create a holistically Jewish state, with an environment, character, values and laws that are informed by our own texts and traditions.

This does not imply religious coercion, but rather investment of Jewish and religious character. There is a power to living in the land of our ancestors, speaking their language, and being surrounded by landmarks, institutions and even street signs that tell the Jewish story. There is a richness to living in a society where the rhythm of the calendar of civic and professional life is set by Shabbat and yamim tovim, and where the lyrics of the popular music are derived from Biblical verses. There is a force to being part of a country that assumes responsibility for the material safety of Jews everywhere in the world, while nurturing within its own borders an astounding renaissance of Jewish learning and living. And there is depth to being part of a body politic where the moral and legal debates in the legislature, courts, hospitals and military draw upon Jewish sources for their resolution.

The Jewishness of Israel is of value even as we acknowledge that Judaism in the modern State does not have the final word on any of these issues. The

State of Israel is not a theocracy, and even the government’s most religious members—whether from the Chareidi or Religious Zionist parties—are politically libertarian and do not seek to compel individual halachic observance, while understanding that on questions of law and values the State’s legislature and courts will consider Western values alongside the religious. Nevertheless, since its inception the State has upheld its public religious character in the manner of traditional Orthodoxy, promoting this at times by law, as in the case of public transportation on Shabbat, and at times by popular consent, as in the case of the universal and voluntary abstention from driving private automobiles on Yom Kippur.

OPPORTUNITIES AND CHALLENGES

While each of these three dimensions represents an aspect of the outstanding gift that is Israel, these very same issues intersect with each other in ways that have created fundamental and even existential challenges for the State.

l For decades, world Jewry has debated whether halachic Jewishness—in the form of maternal ancestry or Orthodox conversion—should determine eligibility for the Law of Return, or whether the law should be more liberally applied to anyone who could be subject to persecution due to their connection to the Jewish people.

l The ongoing debates over the Kotel revolve around the value of an embrace of Jewish religious pluralism in pursuit of Diaspora Jewry’s broader identification with the State versus the internal negative impact of that embrace.

l Finally, in the prevailing tense climate resulting from the growing numbers and power of the Chareidi and Religious Zionist populations, how do we promote the Jewish character of the State without stirring feelings and accusations of religious coercion?

As in all cases of competing values, even when we feel that we have clear answers to these questions, consideration of all the relevant values

moves us to approach the questions with greater sensitivity and nuance, allowing us the possibility of reducing, even if not eliminating, the necessary costs of these difficult choices. That is a worthwhile exercise.

The gift of our return to Eretz Yisrael along with the creation of Medinat Yisrael has given us so much to be grateful for. We need to proceed thoughtfully to maximize the benefits of this gift for each and every Jew and for Klal Yisrael as a whole.

Notes

1. Netzach Yisrael, ch. 1.

2. Ibid., Machon Yerushalayim ed., n. 47.

3. This principle was subsequently codified in the Basic Law: Israel—The Nation State of the Jewish People, 6a.

4. Melachim I 8:30.

5. Tehillim 122:3.

6. Berachot 30a.

7. Emunot v’Deiot 3:7.

8. Ohr Chadash al Tziyon, Introduction, pp. v-vi.

9. Political philosopher Leo Strauss wrote the following in a letter to the editor in the January 5, 1957 issue of National Review: “The moral spine of the Jews was in danger of being broken by the so-called Emancipation which in many cases had alienated them from their heritage, and yet not given them anything more than merely formal equality; it had brought about a condition which has been called ‘external freedom and inner servitude’; political Zionism was the attempt to restore that inner freedom, that simple dignity, of which only people who remember their heritage and are loyal to their fate, are capable… I can never forget what it achieved as a moral force in an era of complete dissolution. It helped to stem the tide of ‘progressive’ leveling of venerable, ancestral differences.”

10. https://scholarworks.brandeis. edu/esploro/outputs/report/JewishFutures-Project-Birthright-IsraelsFirst/9924144319601921.

11. https://www.masaisrael.org/wp-content/ uploads/2022/09/Israel-Immersion-Masapdf.pdf.

12. Basic Law: Israel—The Nation State of the Jewish People, 6b-c.

13. The Chafetz Chaim wrote an abridged Book of Mitzvot, including only those commandments and prohibitions that apply outside of Israel. His compilation included less than half of the mitzvot, 77 out of 248 positive commandments and 194 out of 365 prohibitions.

There is a power to living in the land of our ancestors, speaking their language, and being surrounded by landmarks . . . that tell the Jewish story.

Centennial Spotlight

Rabbi Berel Wein

By Steve Lipman

Like any rabbi with thorough semichah training, Rabbi Berel Wein, a Chicago-born musmach of Hebrew Theological College (better known as “Skokie Yeshiva”), studied the required fundamentals of the laws of kashrut, particularly the Shulchan Aruch’s rulings on basar b’chalav (meat and milk). But he had no particular interest in working full time in the kashrut field.

In 1972, when he came from a pulpit position in Miami to New York City, becoming the OU’s executive vice president, he had no idea what the future would hold. Within months, Rabbi Alexander Rosenberg, the legendary rabbinic administrator of the OU’s Kosher Division, passed away. “Suddenly,” without warning, says Rabbi Wein.

Descending from a line of distinguished Hungarian rabbis, Rabbi Rosenberg, with his meticulous and uncompromising image, had modernized and shaped the Division for twenty-two years and was considered irreplaceable.

The OU and the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA) turned to Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik and asked for advice as to who would be the best candidate to assume Rabbi Rosenberg’s position, recalls Rabbi Julius Berman, a former OU president and longtime OU lay leader who was a close talmid of the

Rav. The Rav agreed that Rabbi Wein should take over the reins of the Kosher Division, which had an office staff of three people at the time. A lay leader of the OU told Rabbi Wein that if he took on the leadership of the kashrut arm of the agency, he “would save the OU,” remembers Rabbi Wein.

Rabbi Wein agreed and served as rabbinic administrator of the OU’s Kosher Division until 1977. “I knew I would do a good job,” says the rabbi, who had a law degree (from DePaul University) and legal experience that he would put to good use as a kashrut administrator. His previous experience as a mashgiach at hotels and at OUsupervised food producers in Miami also came in use, he says; he knew a kosher supervisor’s job from a microlevel, on-the-ground perspective—in addition to the education he had received from Rabbi Rosenberg. Rabbi Wein had worked closely with Rabbi Rosenberg, who taught by example what being the head of a major Jewish organization’s kashrut division entailed. He learned from Rabbi Rosenberg the political, practical and not-soglamorous aspects of the job. One piece of advice from Rabbi Rosenberg made a deep impression on Rabbi Wein, recalls Rabbi Menachem Genack. A dispute had arisen about a certain matter, and Rabbi Rosenberg resolved it with the words, “Ober vos vil G-t—but what does God want?”

Working “24/7” in his new OU role, Rabbi Wein handled various negotiations, dealt with the RCA as well as the mashgichim at the OU, traveled quite a bit and was responsible

for myriad other duties—in short, he did everything that OU Kosher’s now-much-larger staff does. “He was the best man for the job,” says Rabbi Berman, “because of his personality and because he’s brilliant.” Plus he had a legal background. Rabbi Genack concurs with this assessment. “Rabbi Wein is well-known as a highly popular historian and rabbi, but less known is the fact that for a few years he made use of those same significant skills and talents to oversee the OU’s kashrut enterprises.”

Recalling the difficulties of those years, Rabbi Wein says, “ The challenge was to create an orderly, efficient and corruption-free organization in a field that still was chaotic and a little wild west. Everybody was on their own, forming their own kashrut organizations; there was no uniformity and there were many certifications that were questionable. The challenge was to set the standard.” Which the OU ultimately did.

Rabbi Wein is best known now for

Steve Lipman is a frequent contributor to Jewish Action.

Special thanks to Toby Klein Greenwald for helping to prepare this article for publication.

With 2023 marking 100 years of OU Kosher, throughout the year, Jewish Action will profile personalities who played a seminal role in building OU Kosher.

establishing Congregation Bais Torah and Yeshiva Shaarei Torah in New York State’s Rockland County, for his subsequent series of popular books on Jewish history and as founder of the educational Destiny Foundation. But the rabbi, who made aliyah in 1997, says his biggest accomplishment during his five-year tenure at the helm of the Kosher Division was putting the OU “into the meat industry.” The owners of two meat-packing houses, whose kosher products were under the supervision of other kashrut agencies, approached the OU with an interest in switching to OU supervision, explains Rabbi Wein. He handled negotiations with the two businesses and with OU leaders, some

of whom were reluctant to add the meat industry—kosher slaughter and the other halachic requirements of kosher meat are much more complicated than those of dairy or pareve products— to the OU’s kashrut supervision responsibilities. The rabbi’s negotiations were ultimately successful. Since leaving the OU, Rabbi Wein has maintained his interest in kashrut, frequently giving public lectures and classes on the spiritual significance of keeping kosher. “The consumption of only kosher food has been one of the main contributors to the survival of Judaism and the Jewish people over the ages,” he wrote in an essay two years ago on the yeshiva.co website. “It has

given us a deep realization that being a Jew relates also to the body and internal organs of a person, and not only the cerebral notion of religion that many people have.

“Difficulties in maintaining proper standards in kosher food and the abandonment by many secular Jews of the entire concept of kosher food,” continued the rabbi, “have inevitably contributed to the rates of assimilation and intermarriage of their succeeding generations. One of the great blessings of our modern time is the abundance of all types of kosher food.”

Rabbi Wein’s kashrut work at the OU helped make kosher observance more extensive, says Rabbi Moshe Elefant, COO of OU Kosher. “The world of kashrut when he came [to his new position] was very different from the world of kashrut today.”

“When Rabbi Wein served as the rabbinic head of OU Kosher,” Rabbi Elefant says, “the world didn’t realize how important kashrus was.” With his skill set, “he was instrumental in making kosher [food] accessible to many people.”

‘There was no uniformity and there were many certifications that were questionable. The challenge was to set the standard.’ Which the OU ultimately did.

TAKING CHARGE

YOUR of HEALTH

By Rachel Schwartzberg

Routine blood work for health insurance came as a wake-up call for Amanda back in 2019. The results showed she was pre-diabetic. “I was scared,” she recalls. “I was too young to feel my best years were behind me.”

At the time, she was thirty-three years old with three small children—and a family history of diabetes. “I knew I had to do something. There would never be a perfect time to deal with it; life wasn’t going to slow down.”

Amanda implemented changes to her eating and other habits, and increased her activity. She was gratified to see an improvement in her numbers within six months. “My body started to say thank you,” she says. “I had more energy. I showed up better as a mom and as a wife.”

With continued effort, Amanda lost nearly sixty pounds—but she appreciates most what she gained in the process. “I learned that nothing would change if I didn’t take ownership of my own health,” she says. “I’m breaking a generational cycle [of unhealthy habits].”

She notes that with two additional pregnancies in the intervening years, while she hasn’t kept off all the weight she lost, prioritizing her health is a journey that has positively affected her family.

If you suspect you or a loved one has Gaucher disease, speak to your doctor or call The National Gaucher Foundation toll free at 800.504.3189. Schedule a call to speak with our Medical Director, Dr. Robin Ely, NGF Founder.

With all the pressures that come along with leading a frum life, preventive health care often takes a back seat, according to the directors of JOWMA, the Jewish Orthodox Women’s Medical Association, which provides free health education to the Orthodox Jewish community. Many people are lax about taking care of their health, from cultivating healthy habits to staying on top of routine doctor visits and medical screenings.

“In general, the Orthodox Jewish community is really good at reacting,” says Dr. Jennie Berkovich, a Chicagobased pediatrician who serves as JOWMA’s director of education. “When someone is sick, we’ll get referrals to the top specialists and stop at nothing to get the best care.” But, she adds, when it comes to preventing illness in the first place, “it’s hard to prioritize.” In her role at JOWMA, she dedicates her time to educating the Jewish community about how to make good decisions when it comes to health. JOWMA is part of the fourth cohort of the OU’s Impact Accelerator, a program that helps advance promising Jewish nonprofits.

Admittedly, says Dr. Berkovich, this is not a uniquely Jewish issue. In fact, the US Department of Health and Human Services has launched the “Healthy People 2030” initiative to encourage millions of Americans to get recommended preventive health care services that will reduce their risk for diseases, disabilities and death.

Dr. Berkovich says that when it comes to well visits at the doctor, most people are good about bringing in babies. “After that, the trends show parents bring kids to the pediatrician in years when schools require paperwork,” she explains. “Then we often stop seeing adolescents and college students unless something is wrong.”

As adults, women often visit an obstetrician/gynecologist regularly, whereas men may not see a doctor until they have symptoms they can’t ignore. “In general, there is a feeling that men are not as attentive to routine medical care as women,” says Elana Silber, CEO of Sharsheret, a national organization supporting Jewish women with cancer.

As a starting point, Dr. Berkovich recommends that everyone establish a good relationship with a primary care provider. “The PCP relationship is critical for preventive health care,” she says. “There is value in the routine

exam because symptoms often start when a disease has already progressed. An earlier diagnosis typically leads to a better outcome.”

ARE WE GETTING ENOUGH SCREEN TIME?

Although people may not be visiting their doctor as often as they should, when it comes to getting recommended medical screenings, the Orthodox Jewish community is doing a pretty good job, according to Silber. “We’re seeing women taking the lead and getting annual mammograms after age forty,” she says. “Unfortunately, Covid slowed that down, but we at Sharsheret are reminding people to continue.”

In addition to routine screenings, Silber recommends that people understand their family medical history, which may point toward other preventive measures. “Someone is at greater risk if a family member has had cancer,” she explains. Silber notes that “people can definitely be afraid” of facing these issues. “But we are very fortunate in this country to have excellent medical care. If you’re proactive, you can prevent cancer or catch it when it can be cured.”

Sharsheret, which is based in Teaneck, New Jersey, educates and

With all the pressures that come along with leading a frum life, preventive health care often takes a back seat.

Rachel Schwartzberg is a writer and editor who lives with her family in Memphis, Tennessee.

The Pathways Early Assurance Program allowed me to secure a seat in a very competitive program in my junior year.

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guides women about genetic risk factors and how to access testing and understand their results. “As many as one in forty Jews—women and men— carry the BRCA gene mutation,” says Silber. This is especially significant among Orthodox Jews, who tend to marry within the community, perpetuating genetic mutations.

Silber notes that with some prophylactic surgeries, there is close to a 100 percent success rate of not developing cancer—which is especially significant for diseases like ovarian cancer that can be hard to catch early. “Where it’s talked about, women are taking these proactive measures,” she says. “Families who have seen a family member suffer are more likely to get tested and take action.”

Sharsheret encourages women to be proactive in learning what steps they can take to preserve their health. One of the challenges, Silber explains, is that the medical community has information and new modalities, but

they’re not out there marketing it to regular people. Sharsheret tries to bridge that gap, getting the information out there and helping women navigate their options.

Silber wishes there was a greater sense of urgency about the topic in the Jewish world. “The cancers related to BRCA are plaguing our community.” But, she adds, “there are things people can do to save their lives now.”

According to Cleveland Clinic gastroenterologist Dr. Michael (Meir) Pollack, while genetic screenings are becoming more common, people often don’t know what to do with the knowledge they have been handed. “I’ve seen young people who come over to me with a printout, asking, ‘What do I do with this information?’” he says. “They now know there are 100 genes they’re carriers of, which might indicate they’re at higher risk for certain diseases.”

Dr. Pollack recommends that people who do these screenings have their

results reviewed by a professional. “It could save your life,” he says. He recalls speaking to a man in his thirties whose genetic test showed he was at higher risk of colon cancer. “He had no symptoms and no family history,” Dr. Pollack says. “I recommended a colonoscopy, but when I saw him a few months later, he hadn’t done it yet. He finally had the colonoscopy, and they found a malignancy.” Fortunately, it was caught at an early stage, and the man was completely cured.

Dr. Pollack notes that studies have proven that people of Ashkenazic Jewish descent are twice as likely to have Crohn’s or colitis—which in turn increases a person’s risk for colorectal cancer. However, he doesn’t see people from the Jewish community keeping up with medical recommendations at higher rates than the general population. “Most people know about getting a colonoscopy starting at age fifty,” he says. “However, current guidelines actually recommend doing

WHAT CAN WE AS A COMMUNITY DO TO ENCOURAGE BETTER HEALTH?

By Rachel Schwartzberg

Community-based organizations— like shuls, Hatzalah, Bikur Cholim, or Jewish community centers—can provide valuable education through lectures, seminars or health fairs.

“The frum community overall is sophisticated and worldly, but you’d be surprised how many people just aren’t aware of the basics and miss the chance to catch problems early,” says Dr. Michael (Meir) Pollack of the Cleveland Clinic. Dr. Jennie Berkovich, director of education for the Jewish Orthodox Women’s Medical Association (JOWMA), adds, “The value of these events is that community members want to hear this information from a source they’re comfortable with.” JOWMA offers content and curricula for such programs.

Jewish organizations should take advantage of opportunities—such as during months when specific health topics are trending—to remind people of the importance of screenings.

Day schools and yeshivot can improve the nutritional value of the food they serve to students. “Schools should work with a nutritionist to provide balanced meals that are appealing to children; protein and vegetables should be included, not just pizza and pasta,” says Dr. Hylton Lightman, a wellknown pediatrician in Far Rockaway, New York. Additionally, teachers and rebbeim would do well to consider prizes and incentives other than candy and cans of soda.

At a kiddush, event or simchah, hosts can make sure healthful food options are served. This could include fruit platters at a dessert buffet, and water or seltzer alongside the soda. “People may not want to eat certain foods and it’s difficult for them if there are no other options,” says health and fitness coach Chaim Loeb.

so beginning at age forty-five. And people don’t know that there are other tests that are less invasive that have been shown to be quite accurate.” So while 65 percent of people over fifty are getting colonoscopies, “that means 35 percent of people don’t do anything,” he says. “If they feel fine, they think they’re fine.”

Dr. Pollack worries that people are not aware of the long-term health ramifications of what they consider to be “normal” digestive discomfort. “You’ve got people popping Tums without thinking about it at all,” he says. “But over many years, chronic acid reflux is a risk factor for Barrett’s esophagus, which is premalignant,” he explains. “For people with chronic reflux, an upper endoscopy screening is recommended. Then we would check again every three years to make sure nothing’s changing.”

Overall, Dr. Pollack understands that people are busy and for various reasons—whether it’s laziness or poor insurance coverage— preventive screenings are neglected. “Unfortunately,” he says, “no one stops and says, ‘How can I preserve myself to live a long life in good health so I can continue doing the things I love to do?’”

KEEPING HEALTHY KIDS HEALTHY

Dr. Hylton Lightman, a pediatrician who has served the Orthodox Jewish community for more than forty years in his Far Rockaway, New York, practice, says his guiding principle is “prevention is better than intervention.”

He recommends regular well visits every year. “It’s important for a pediatrician to assess a child, not just physically but also their context,” he explains. “This allows us to understand what is going on for the child and to prevent later difficulties of the body.”

A significant step parents can take to proactively help their children remain healthy is staying up to date on vaccinations, according to Dr. Lightman. As a native of South Africa who practiced medicine in that country before coming to the US, he is especially dismayed that there are many people within the frum community who are reluctant to do so. “This is foolish and dangerous,” he says. “Vaccines are tools Hashem gave us to prevent disease. I’ve seen these diseases up close and they are debilitating and devastating,” he asserts.

Like many pediatricians, Dr.

Lightman has seen children become more sedentary and spend less time outdoors in recent years, in addition to growing rates of obesity among children. The increase in childhood obesity has been well documented in the general media. In fact, in January, the American Academy of Pediatrics released its first comprehensive guidelines for evaluating and treating children and adolescents with obesity. The recommendations were met with controversy, as they focus on weight loss as the best path to health and suggest putting children as young as age two on diets. For teens, the guidelines include weight loss medications and even bariatric surgery referrals.

Dr. Lightman strongly cautions people to be careful when encouraging weight loss in children. “As a society, we pay too much attention to appearance and weight, especially in females,” he says. Teens can develop eating disorders as a result. “We have to convey a message to our children of respect for our bodies and for each other,” he maintains.

In general, Dr. Lightman believes Orthodox parents are trying their best to do what’s right for their children.

When I got to the end of the race, I cried. So many of us have a destructive inner voice saying, ‘Why bother doing this?’ I saw that I could go beyond my selfimposed barriers.

Continued from page 26

“But they are overwhelmed with the responsibilities of life,” he says. He stresses that adopting a healthy lifestyle is “absolutely imperative to the well-being of children and adults.”

WHAT’S EATING US?

According to Silber at Sharsheret, society in general is embracing the importance of healthy eating and exercise, thanks to both traditional and social media. “We’ve also seen significant reduction of tobacco use, which is amazing,” she says. Interestingly, Silber notes, “people seem less willing to eliminate alcohol” in response to medical recommendations.

Within the Orthodox community, however, experts note that certain factors in Jewish life contribute to unhealthy behaviors. “Our lifestyle focuses heavily on food,” says Dr. Berkovich of JOWMA. “We’re also largely sedentary. We walk to shul, but only on Shabbos—and then we try to ensure we don’t have to walk too far.”

Dr. Pollack agrees that frum society is hyper-focused on food. “This isn’t new; it’s part of our culture. Our ethnic Jewish foods are very fatty—cholent, kishka, kugel. Many of us enjoy these things at a kiddush and then come home and do it all again for lunch.” He stresses that it’s not bad

EXPERTS’ TIPS FOR HEALTHY LIVING

By Rachel Schwartzberg

Develop a good relationship with a primary care provider. “If you don’t feel good about your PCP, find one you like and make a point of going even when everything is fine,” says Dr. Berkovich.

Learn your risk factors, including family history. “Know your personal circumstances,” says Silber. “Being proactive could make a real difference.”

Get your recommended medical screenings, based on your age and other factors. “A colonoscopy isn’t fun,” says Dr. Pollack. “But don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Consider what’s in the food you eat and feed your family. “There are lots of foods, like yogurt, for example, that people think are healthy but which often have a lot of sugar,” says Dr. Lightman. He recommends checking the glycemic index of foods, as well as avoiding foods with extremely high sodium content.

Make sure you are drinking enough water. “I frequently see a lack of proper hydration,” says Dr. Lightman, which impacts so much of a person’s function.

When attending an event, consider in advance what foods you might want to enjoy or avoid. “When it comes to what we eat, if we invest no prior thought or intention, we tend to make worse choices,” says fitness coach Chaim Loeb.

Make time for physical activity in your schedule. “When I meet a patient, I can tell who is active and who isn’t,” says Dr. Pollack, “because it makes a difference.” Additionally, children should be encouraged to play outside and be as active as possible. “Children are on devices starting at a very young age, which precludes active play,” says Dr. Lightman. Even something as simple as taking a family walk for ten minutes can be beneficial.

to enjoy any particular food, but “everything in moderation.” Dr. Pollack feels this is “the biggest issue” plaguing the Jewish community when it comes to health. “Screenings? Yes! But what’s killing our people is obesity,” he says. “Obesity is a risk factor for cancer, heart disease and stroke.”

In addition to poor eating habits, a lack of physical activity compounds the issue. “I don’t know if Orthodox Jews tend to have a more sedentary lifestyle than anyone else in 2023,” notes Dr. Pollack. “But many are busy with families, work, carpools, errands, hosting, et cetera, and we don’t prioritize our health. Then

suddenly, you’re sixty years old with big problems.”

Lifelong bad habits around food and activity—and the emotional baggage that goes with them—are common themes Chaim Loeb hears from his clients at Fit Yid Academy. Based in Phoenix, Arizona, Loeb offers virtual personalized coaching to Jewish men who want to achieve fitness or health goals and learn how to sustain a healthy lifestyle. He has worked with approximately seventy men in the three years since he began Fit Yid Academy, with the majority of his clients in their thirties and forties. “The main thing I hear is, ‘I don’t have time,’” he says. “For most of us, fitness

and health are very important but not urgent. It’s hard to create time for it when we tend to live within the box of dealing with what’s urgent.”

Loeb adds that he sees a common “all-or-nothing” perspective among Orthodox men. “We have to teach people to work on consistency over perfection,” he says. “Plus, people want quick fixes. But our goal should be to build regular habits, which takes time and effort.”

He says he gets calls from men who were told by a doctor they’ve got certain risk factors or are headed in a certain direction. “Unfortunately, most people who hear this do nothing,” he says. But joining a gym or an

I don’t know if Orthodox Jews tend to have a more sedentary lifestyle than anyone else in 2023,” notes Dr. Pollack. “But people are busy with families, work, carpools, errands, hosting, et cetera, and we don’t prioritize our health. Then suddenly, you’re sixty years old with big problems.

exercise program or signing up with a coach can lead to significant improvement. “We’ve seen real changes in [people’s] numbers. It’s beautiful.”

When it comes to eating, Loeb avoids referring to foods as “bad or “good”—or even “healthy” or “unhealthy.” What we eat, he says, can be either “supportive or not supportive of our personal goals for our well-being.”

For Rabbi Aryeh Markman, executive director of Aish LA, being physically fit is part of avodat Hashem. “I once heard that there is a lot of spirituality in being a healthy human being,” he says. “It allows us to do more. We want to be able to build our sukkah, clean for Pesach, fast on fast days and even get our grandchildren out of their car seat without pulling out our backs.”

While he has always considered himself to be in shape, Rabbi Markman ran his first half marathon with RabbisCanRun in 2019 in Jerusalem. “When I got to the end of the race, I cried,” he recalls. “So many of us have a destructive inner voice saying, ‘Why bother doing this?’ I saw that I could go beyond my self-imposed barriers.”

RabbisCanRun was founded in 2017 by running enthusiast Meir Kaniel to enable rabbanim to improve their health and inspire others. Participants train for and run their first 10K, half marathon, or full marathon race. Roughly eighty-five rabbis, from communities across North America and Israel, have participated to date.

Rabbi Markman, who has since run several marathons, truly believes anyone can find a way to become more active that works for them. “It’s like anything you do in Torah,” he says. “Learning five minutes a day is going to impact your life; you’ll grow as a person. Similarly, incorporating some exercise into your day will help your body improve for the better.”

One of the unexpected side benefits of his longdistance running was seeing how his commitment has affected his entire family, Rabbi Markman notes. “My children were encouraging,” he says. And his wife began exercising too. “My working out gave her ‘permission’ to take the time out of her own busy schedule to make her health a priority,” he says.

Similarly, Amanda, who lost sixty pounds during her pursuit of health, has been thrilled to see the ripple effect of her efforts. “My husband was always supportive of my health journey,” she shares, “but I always felt like I was on my own.” While she worked hard to change her lifestyle, her husband kept up his “poor habits,” she says, which eventually led to high cholesterol and foot pain. “This past year, he made some conscious changes on his own. The pain went away, and he got his cholesterol numbers down without medicine.”

Knowing that she’s being a role model for her own family has made her efforts to embrace a healthier lifestyle all the more worthwhile. “There are still challenges along the way,” Amanda says, “but there’s no going back to how things were.”

As we prepared to go to press, we heard the distressing news of the passing of our literary editor emeritus,

Widely respected as a brilliant thinker and talmid chacham, Rabbi Greenblatt, a talmid of Rav Yitzchak Hutner, zt”l, and a lifelong friend of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, had an immeasurable impact on Jewish Action. For more than three decades, his vision, intellectual breadth and unrelenting determination helped mold the magazine and set a standard of excellence in the world of Orthodox publishing.

A tribute to Rabbi Greenblatt will appear in a future issue.

RABBI MATIS GREENBLATT, z”l.

ISRAEL AT 75

Reflections on the founding of the Jewish State

Rabbi Yehuda Amital

Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler

Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank

Rabbi Yaakov Friedman

Rabbanit Miriam Hauer

Rabbi Dr. Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog

Rabbi Yehoshua Hutner

Rabbi Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman

Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein

Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer

Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz

Rabbi Dr. Nachum Eliezer Rabinovitch

Rabbanit Puah Shteiner

Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik

Rabbi Yechiel Michel Tukachinsky

Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg

Rabbi Berel Wein

Rabbi Dr. Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg

Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli

Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin

THE MEDINAH: THROUGH A TORAH LENS

The establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 was such a profound event that no serious thinker could avoid contemplating the implications of this historic moment. There is obvious religious importance in the return of a form of Jewish sovereignty to a portion of the Biblical Land after nearly two thousand years of exile. How did a variety of great religious personalities respond to this? What follows is a series of brief profiles of, as well as personal reflections from, a limited selection of Torah giants, each of whom lived during the miraculous establishment of the Jewish State and responded positively in his own way.

Each one of these diverse thinkers has his own approach, with great nuance that cannot be discerned from a single quote or brief essay, and which sometimes evolved over time. This sampling of rabbinic thought offers us a glimpse into different ways of viewing the enormity and complexity of the events in a religiously positive light.

Rabbi Gil Student, Jewish Action book editor

By Rabbi Menachem Dov Genack

In general, the Rav’s thought, indeed his whole way of looking at the world, was marked by a dialectical approach, a never-ending effort to live with the tension of opposing poles of an issue. His attitude toward the State of Israel was no exception. Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik firmly believed that the State of Israel—the establishment of Jewish sovereignty itself—was a fulfillment of the mitzvah of yishuv ha’Aretz, a view that he attributed to the Ramban. Jewish destiny in Jewish

hands was, for the Rav, not merely the realization of a nationalist dream, but the observance of a religious imperative—yet he also emphasized the danger of nationalism divorced from religious underpinnings and criticized such tendencies within the religious camp as well.

The Rav made only one trip to the Holy Land, in 1935, when he was a candidate for the chief rabbinate of Tel Aviv. During his visit, he merited to see Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, who was then in the last months of his life. Rav Kook made a deep impression on the Rav; he described Rav Kook as “a great religious personality—Judaism to him was not

Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik (Pruzhen, Poland, 1903-Boston, Massachusetts, 1993)

The Rav believed the State of Israel was the fulfillment of the mitzvah of yishuv Ha’Aretz. Courtesy of Yeshiva University Archives

an idea, it was a great experience, a passion, a love, it was a living reality . . . . When you read his books and his writings, it is like a stormy sea, like a powerful tide driving you to lands unknown.” Interestingly, I heard from Rabbi Avraham Shapira, the late chief rabbi of Israel, that Rav Kook told him to take advantage of the opportunity to attend the Rav’s shiurim, because hearing the Rav was like hearing his grandfather Rav Chaim.

The Rav shared the story of his visit to a secular kibbutz, ideologically located “on the border of Stalinism,” which, he was shocked to discover, maintained a kosher kitchen:

They told me the following incident,

which had taken place a few years before . . . Rav Kook came to the kibbutz for Shabbat . . . . On Saturday night, after he made Havdalah, they had a gathering and he began to dance with them. He told them stories about his past, about his father and mother, absolutely not indicating disapproval or censure about their behavior. On Sunday morning, he said to them: “Shalom, lehitra’ot, v’le’echol b’yachad seudah achat Farewell, and next time let us eat together at one table.” The next day, the dishes were thrown out and the kitchen was made kosher . . . . You ask what power he exerted? It was the power of his religious personality.

I believe that the Rav shared Rav

Kook’s optimism regarding the potential of the non-affiliated Jew in Israel to adopt a life of Torah. In his Chamesh Derashot, the Rav wrote: “By him watering an orchard in the Emek, the vitalizing dew of the Eternal One of Israel, the Creator of the Universe, also alights upon this seemingly disinterested non-believer. . . .” Yet the Rav’s Zionism differed qualitatively from Rav Kook’s ecstatic Messianic viewpoint. The Rav’s perspective was more dispassionate, seeing the State as part of G-d’s plan of counteracting the physical, psychological and emotional devastation of the centuries of Jewish persecution that culminated in the Holocaust, rather than as a Divine utopia foreshadowing

The Rav shared Rav Kook’s optimism regarding the potential of the non-affiliated Jew in Israel to adopt a Torah life.

the End of Days. Likewise, Rav Kook emphasized the quality of the Jewish people as a nation; the concept of a state fit well into his religious consciousness. The Rav, on the other hand, focused more on the individual; “the flight of the alone to the Alone,” a quote he borrowed from Plotinus, epitomized his view of religion. A key point for the Rav was his belief that Judaism in the Diaspora would not have been able to survive without the establishment of the State. “Were it not for the State of Israel,” he often said, “American Jewry would be wiped away in a tidal wave of assimilation.” The Rav was completely correct—Israel was crucial to maintaining American Jewish identity. (Sadly, much of American Jewry no longer possesses instinctive support for Israel, and it is being swept away by assimilation.) In addition, the Rav saw in the establishment of the State the refutation of the Catholic theological view of Judaism as a historical relic.

But the State also created the possibility for Judaism to be reinvigorated; only in a Jewish state could there emerge a rich, multidimensional Judaism. In a sermon from 1946 contained in the newly published book The Return to Zion, the Rav writes that only in Israel could Judaism be “transformed into an all-encompassing space—long, wide, and deep, with distant horizons and unending boundaries—in a word: a true worldview.” [See “The Return to Zion” on page 58.] I heard the Rav quote Rav Kook’s interpretation of the words we recite in Ne’ilah, “Lema’an nechdal mei’oshek yadeinu—that we may desist from the theft of our hands.” Why at the culmination of Ne’ilah do we pray to no longer commit theft? Rav Kook explained that our request is not about theft committed with our hands; it is that G-d accept our teshuvah so that we can desist from the theft of our hands themselves, of our potential. On a national level, I would add, it is the founding of the State that allows the Jewish people to desist from the theft of its great potential.

The Rav’s relationship with the State was multifaceted, as to be expected from such a complex thinker, but his attitude toward the State of Israel as the realization of a religious ideal was a constant in both his philosophy and his life.

‘Were it not for the State of Israel,’ he often said, ‘American Jewry would be wiped away in a tidal wave of assimilation.’

Rabbi Menachem Dov Genack is CEO, OU Kosher. The Patriarchs. forget. place experience. hand their aspect very thanks enthusiasm.

The highlight for me was the Cave of the Patriarchs. My first visit and one I will never forget. Going back in time to visit such a holy place is emotional and a spiritual, enriching experience. To hear and understand first hand what the se lers lived through, and their determination to succeed, was an aspect of the tour I appreciated. The tour was very well organized and planned. Special thanks to Yaffa for her efforts and enthusiasm.

Jennifer L.

Really inspiring tour! Rabbi Simcha did an amazing job! He gets so into the stories that you feel like you were there, actually making you part of history!

David F.

This is an incredibly meaningful experience that is not to be missed. Rabbi Simcha Hochbaum is a one-of-a-kind person who makes Hebron come alive. You can feel history come alive through his explanations.

This tour was awesome!!! Rabbi Hochbaum is an excellent guide who brought the history to life as we walked in the footsteps of our forefathers and mothers as well as the many people who gave their lives al Kiddush haShem. This tour really made an impression. Even our 12 year old said it was “very cool and special”. I would highly recommend it.

Rivkie W.

We've been on this tour numerous times and always enjoy & benefit from it. This time we really appreciated the updated Beit Hadassa museum. It was really a moving experience. Can't wait to come back again!

Roshni2011

Marci M.

Rabbi Dr. Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog (Lomza, Poland, 1888-Jerusalem, 1959)

By Rabbi Yirmiyohu Kaganoff

Contrary to what many people think, the first chief rabbi of the modern State of Israel was not Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook but Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog. Rav Kook was the first Ashkenazi chief rabbi of the New Yishuv, but he passed away in 1935, thirteen years before the Declaration of Independence of the State of Israel. After Rav Kook’s passing, the search committee for a new rav placed two candidates before the body in charge of the selection, and Rabbi Herzog, then serving as the chief rabbi of the Irish Free State, was chosen over Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Charlop, the rosh yeshivah of Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav, now located in the Kiryat

Rabbi Yirmiyohu Kaganoff, formerly a pulpit rav in Buffalo and Baltimore, now lives in Neve Yaakov in Jerusalem, where he teaches, writes, and visits Jewish communities all over the world. He is a prolific author on rabbinic scholarship, in both English and Hebrew.

Moshe neighborhood of Yerushalayim.

Rabbi Herzog was born in 1888, in Lomza, Poland, where his family had lived for several generations. His father, Rabbi Yoel Herzog, was a well-known talmid chacham in the city and served as one of the dayanim, alongside the city’s rav, Rabbi Noach Yitzchak Diskin. (He was a brother of Rabbi Yehoshua Leib Diskin, one of the unofficial rabbanim of the Old Yishuv of Yerushalayim and the rebbi of Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, first rav of the Eidah Hachareidis.) Rabbi Yoel Herzog also served as a dayan alongside Rabbi Malkiel Tzvi Halevi Tannenbaum, author of Divrei Malkiel, one of the greatest posekim in Lithuania in his generation. In contrast to most rabbanim of the time, Rabbi Yoel Herzog has been described as a “fiery Zionist”—he was a strong supporter of Chovevei Zion, a forerunner of the Zionist movement. As a young man, he met Rabbi Shmuel Mohilever, one of the early founders of Religious Zionism, who invited the much younger Rabbi Yoel Herzog to the first Zionist Congress, where Rabbi Mohilever planned to introduce him to Theodor Herzl. At the last minute, Rav

Yoel was unable to attend because his son Yitzchak became seriously ill. Most fortunate for the history of Klal Yisrael, the young Yitzchak recovered.

The younger Rabbi Herzog grew up in an environment that believed very strongly in the building of a modern Jewish presence in Eretz Yisrael, and later on in his life he had no difficulty cooperating with non-religious elements to bring about the creation of a Jewish state in the Holy Land.

The senior Rabbi Herzog left Poland, first to become rabbi of Leeds, England, and then to be the Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Paris. There were no significant yeshivot in England or France in this era, yet the young Rabbi Yitzchak Herzog became a tremendous gaon in learning, first by learning b’chavruta with his father, and then on his own. A linguist and a Renaissance man, he pursued his secular education at University of London and the Sorbonne, eventually earning a master’s degree equivalent from the Sorbonne and a PhD from University of London. During this time, he continued his growth in Torah learning by studying on his own and corresponding with the greatest of

Rabbi Herzog served as chief rabbi of Israel during a time of tremendous turmoil. Above: Crowds following the funeral procession of Chief Rabbi Herzog through the streets of Jerusalem. Photos courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans/Pridan Moshe

the Torah world at the time. He later named his two sons after Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik of Brisk and the Ridbaz, gedolim whose acquaintance he had developed via correspondence from London, Paris, and later, Ireland, where he served first as the chief rabbi of Belfast and later of Dublin; he eventually became the chief rabbi of the Irish Free State when it achieved its independence.

Rabbi Herzog was offered many positions at larger, more prestigious and wealthier communities, all of which he turned down, stating that his intention was to move to Eretz Yisrael and nowhere else. When his father passed away in 1933, the community beseeched him to take his father’s place as rav of Paris, but he told them he would not relocate anywhere other than to the Holy Land. He had also been offered to become chacham bashi, or chief rabbi, of Salonika, at the time the most prestigious rabbinic post in the Sephardic world, with the understanding that whenever any post of chacham bashi anywhere in Eretz Yisrael would become available, he would have the position virtually guaranteed. He turned down this

When the position of rabbi of Tel Aviv-Yafo became vacant in 1933, he became a candidate for the position, alongside Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik; however, the organized Mizrachi community in Eretz Yisrael backed Rabbi Moshe Avigdor Amiel, who was selected for the position. But as mentioned above, two years later he was elected Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Palestine, and when the State was founded in 1948, he became its first Ashkenazi chief rabbi.

Rabbi Herzog’s tenure was during a time of tremendous turmoil for the Jewish people in general, and particularly for the Yishuv in Eretz Yisrael. This was the period of the rise of Nazi Germany, the Arab riots, and the British issuing repeated White Papers restricting Jewish immigration to Israel when it was needed most.

Rabbi Herzog, an eloquent and native English speaker, a tireless worker and an egoless communal activist, used all of his considerable talents to help Klal Yisrael in every imaginable way during this difficult period. We can single out his traveling in the middle of the war from Israel to the United States to personally lobby President Roosevelt to help the plight of Jews being massacred by the Nazis, and his considerable efforts after the war to locate Jewish children who had been placed in Christian orphanages during the war and reunite them with their people.

Well before the founding of the State, Rabbi Herzog was probably the first one to write on how the new state should be run, specifically addressing the integration and application of halachah to the entire legal system of a modern new country. He published sefarim, lectured and lobbied that the new state and its legal system should be run according to halachah. He felt that its criminal justice system should use dayanim as judges, and that Choshen Mishpat should be its legal foundation— not Anglo-Saxon common law, as unfortunately resulted. He opposed the State having capital punishment, contending that the method whereby halachah allows it would not be met.

He even advocated certain adjustments to the way batei din traditionally operated, and the way halachah was usually interpreted, so that Jewish law could be used in a modern setting. For example, he wanted to adjust the system of yerushah so that daughters would inherit equally with their brothers, and he introduced the idea of fathers paying child support for their children until society considered them adults. Although he was by and large unsuccessful in introducing most of his ideas to Israeli jurisprudence, these last two are currently practiced in the official batei din of the State of Israel. And although Israel officially has capital punishment, it has been carried out only once in the history of the State (Adolph Eichmann).

In closing, it is fair to say that unlike Rav Kook, Rabbi Charlop and others, who built their belief in the Medinah upon philosophic and kabbalistic foundations, Rabbi Herzog emphasized the practical—matters such as what structure the legal system would have and how the courts would work.

Although this aspect of his life’s goals was only moderately successful, he did create a basic structure that exists until this day.

Rabbi Herzog was presumably the only person in history who might seriously have become either the Ashkenazi or the Sephardi chief rabbi of Israel.

Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans

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Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin (Kazimirov, Russia, 1888-Jerusalem, 1978)

By Yehuda Esral

Perhaps one of the most fascinating and enigmatic figures in the years leading up and subsequent to the founding of the State of Israel was Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin. Growing up in a family of Chabad Chassidim, studying under some of the greatest Lithuanian roshei yeshivah and later becoming a member of the Mizrachi party, Rabbi Zevin had a multifaceted background that set the stage for an even more colorful life.

Rabbi Zevin was born in 1888 in Kazimirov, a small town in Russia. His father, Rabbi Aharon Mordechai, a Chabad chassid, was the rav of the town. From a young age he studied locally with a melamed, and after his bar mitzvah, at which point his unusual abilities in learning were recognized, he was sent to learn in the famed Mir Yeshiva in Poland, where he was paired up with Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg. After several years in the yeshivah, he returned to Babroisk, another Chabad hub, where he learned under the rav of Babroisk, rebbe of the Kapust branch of Chabad, Rabbi Shmaryahu Noach Schneerson. When Rabbi Zevin was just eighteen

years old, his father passed away and despite his young age, he was called upon to fill the position of rav of Kazimirov.

Thus began his career, one which would prove to be both challenging and highly consequential. Working together with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, he endeavored to create secret societies spreading Torah among the youth of Russia, endangering his life in doing so. He was an editor of and regular contributor to many Torah publications of his day including the Torah periodical Yagdil Torah, which he headed together with his lifelong friend Rabbi Yechezkel Abramsky.

In 1934, he transplanted his family to Eretz Yisrael, where he presided over a Chabad community in Tel Aviv. He merited to develop a relationship with the chief rabbi, Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, in the last year and a half of the latter’s life.

His prolific writing career was nearly unparalleled in his time. His many sefarim became instant classics, meriting numerous reprints over the years. His unique ability to present complex ideas and topics in a manner that was both thorough and succinct set a new standard in the world of Torah literature. Rabbi Zevin was

able to unearth novel chiddushim without breaking the flow of a simple interpretation, making his writing valuable to both the seasoned talmid chacham and layman alike.

His crowning jewel and everlasting legacy undoubtedly was the Encyclopedia Talmudit. In 1942, together with Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan, he embarked on a project in which every major Talmudic concept was explained and elaborated on from its Talmudic source, including its development and discussion throughout the generations, up until contemporary times. The project, the expanse and scope of which had never previously been ventured, claimed every spare minute of Rabbi Zevin’s life. The extraordinary work, which is still in production today, is a testament to the profound influence that its lead visionary and trailblazing researcher, Rabbi Zevin, continues to exert on the popular study of halachah.

While naturally inclined to focus on his learning and writing, Rabbi Zevin often found himself pulled into social and political issues. In 1959, after the passing of Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog, the chief rabbi of Israel, many assumed it was to be Rabbi Zevin who would fill the post. However, Rabbi Zevin, who always shunned the

Rabbi Zevin commanded respect in every corner of the Jewish world. Courtesy of Benny Gur

Above: Jerusalem’s Rehavia Quarter, 1935. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Kluger Zoltan

limelight, declined on the grounds that it would interrupt his work on the Encyclopedia.

Rabbi Zevin’s views on the State of Israel are difficult to paint in one broad stroke. The plurality of viewpoints and influences from which he drew inspiration fail to direct us sufficiently to his own positions. Like everything Rabbi Zevin did, however, nothing was established without being thoroughly examined through the exacting lens of halachah as he understood it.

The establishment of the State of Israel, besides for providing a selfgoverned homeland to the Jewish people, offered a unique opportunity to fulfill the mitzvot of the Land, in Rabbi Zevin’s eyes. According to the Rambam, without most of the Jewish nation in Eretz Yisrael, the obligation for terumot and ma’aserot is only rabbinic. Rabbi Zevin viewed every Jew who came to Israel as a partner in “restoring” these mitzvot to their Biblical origin.

In 1948, an anonymous article appeared in various publications, imploring the public to join the Haganah in what would become the War of Independence. “Everyone understands that there will be no endurance for inhabiting the Land of Israel, G-d forbid, and for the Jewish population throughout the exile without an independent state in our Land.” Yeshivah students and Torah scholars alike were prevailed upon to leave the beit midrash and fight for the Land of Israel. In coming years, evidence strongly indicated that this consequential article came from the pen of Rabbi Zevin.

Rabbi Zevin articulated this position more clearly years later in his sefer, Le’Or HaHalachah. In discussing the topic of milchemet mitzvah, he writes “. . . in our days, wherein we merited the establishment of the independent State of Israel, freed from the burden of other governments and the servitude of the exile, it is clear that the War of Independence had all of the

pertinent laws of milchemet mitzvah, as well as its very obligation.”

The very nature of the founding of the State of Israel, however, proved more difficult for Rabbi Zevin to pinpoint. In an essay published in 1959 in the Machanayim journal, Rabbi Zevin wrote, “Israel’s independence is the greatest miracle we have witnessed in recent generations. Despite this, I cannot claim that it is considered to be the aschalta d’Geulah. We are not among the inner sanctum of G-d, and thus cannot conceive of what the ultimate Redemption will look like . . . Nonetheless, we are commanded to thank and praise Hashem for the wonder that He bestowed upon us. Whoever refrains from doing so is guilty of denying the goodness of Hashem. . . We must hope that with the passage of time, this celebration of Yom Ha’atzmaut, which carries the aura of sanctity and is based in the Torah, spreads throughout the Jewish People.”

While Rabbi Zevin’s personal practice was to recite Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut without a berachah, he made sure to attend minyan that day at Mosad Harav Kook, where they were accustomed to recite Hallel with a berachah

In 1964, Rabbi Zevin was appointed to the Chief Rabbinate Council, serving in this role for many years. With every election, he would encourage others to vote for the Dati Leumi party in the Knesset, feeling that their agenda was most closely aligned with the interests of his community. (It should be noted that he perhaps differed in this regard from the guidance of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, with whom he shared a warm and mutually reverent relationship.)

In 1973, when a law was introduced that would repeal the draft exemption for full-time yeshivah students, Rabbi Zevin penned an essay entitled “Al Tig’u B’Meshichai” (“Touch Not My Anointed Ones”), in which he directs strong words toward the Dati Leumi party, which supported the law. “In the place of spiritual might, we see confusion, a lack of recognition and disgrace toward the highest value in Judaism: Talmud Torah k’negged kulam,

Torah study parallels all the others.”

Rabbi Zevin passed away on the 21st of Adar 5738 (1978). His funeral at Har Hamenuchot was attended by thousands, representing the full gamut of the Torah world, from the Eidah Hachareidis to Mizrachi, Brisk to Chabad, Litvish and Sephardi, a true testament to the widespread respect commanded by one of the greatest talmidei chachamim of his time.

“. . . in our days, wherein we merited the establishment of the independent State of Israel, freed from the burden of other governments and the servitude of the exile, it is clear that the War of Independence had all of the pertinent laws of milchemet mitzvah, as well as its very obligation.”

Yehuda

Esral lives in Lakewood, New Jersey.

Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank (Kovno, Lithuania, 1873-Jerusalem, 1960)

By Rabbi Yirmiyohu Kaganoff

After Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac

Halevi Herzog was elected chief rabbi of the Jewish settlement in Palestine, the decision was made to divide the position, which had been previously held by Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, into two positions: Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Palestine and Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Jerusalem. Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank, who had been serving as the primary dayan of the city’s main beit din for almost two decades, was appointed as the new rav of Yerushalayim. At this time in history, the Eidah Hachareidis, which was still affiliated with Agudas Yisrael (and was therefore the umbrella organization of all Ashkenazi Chareidi Jews of the Old Yishuv), had its own rav, Rav Yosef Tzvi Duschinsky, who was a generation older than Rabbi Frank. Rabbi Frank’s acceptance of his appointment as the rav of Yerushalayim was itself a political statement: he was accepting a position officially part of the nascent Zionist community, and he was still the av beit din of the

A supporter of Rav Kook, Rabbi Frank was, at the same time, a leading halachic authority among the anti-Zionist Old Yishuv. Courtesy of the Central Zionist Archives

Above: The Old City of Jerusalem in 1948. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office

anti-Zionist Old Yishuv community since he had been appointed a dayan of that community years earlier by Rabbi Shmuel Salant.

Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank was born in 1873 in Kovno, then part of the vast Russian Empire. His parents, Rabbi Yehuda Leib and Malka Frank, were active in the Chovevei Zion organization, a forerunner of Herzl’s Zionist movement. Rabbi Yehuda Leib was also a leader of the Hedeira Society, an organization involved in grassroots development of the New Yishuv. He was one of the founders of the village of Hadera, now a city of over 100,000 inhabitants.

The young Rabbi Frank studied in several of the classic yeshivot until 1892, when he immigrated to Eretz Yisrael with his brother, sister and first cousin, Shmuel Hillel Shenker, who later married the daughter of Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, who was to become the first rav of the Eidah Hachareidis. Rabbi Frank continued studying in the yeshivot in Yerushalayim and was soon viewed as a halachic equal of the great posekim there, notwithstanding that they were all two generations older than he was. To facilitate studying

without the distractions of community responsibilities, he moved to Yafo (Tel Aviv did not yet exist), where he developed a close, mutually respectful relationship with Rav Kook, then rav of Yafo. This connection began their working relationship over the next thirty years on numerous matters affecting the entire community in Eretz Yisrael.

Rabbi Frank is the only individual in history to have served as the head of the beit din recognized by the Eidah Hachareidis and also as an official rav in the State of Israel.

In 1907, Rabbi Shmuel Salant, the ninety-one-year-old rav of Yerushalayim, asked the thirty-fouryear-old Rabbi Frank to serve alongside him as a member of the official beit din of Yerushalayim. Notwithstanding that he was, by decades, the youngest rav on the beit din, Rabbi Frank was soon recognized as the unofficial leader of the Yerushalayim rabbinate.

During World War I, he remained hidden in an attic in Yerushalayim so that the Turks would not expel him from the country for being an enemy alien. (He had been born in the Russian Empire, which was part of the “Triple Entente” [later called the “Allies”], whereas the Ottoman Empire was one of the “Central Powers,” allied with the German and Austro-Hungarian Empires.) The Turks never discovered his hiding place, which was fortunate because from it he directed all the rabbinic affairs of the city until the British drove the Turks from the city.

After the war, Rabbi Frank was at the forefront of several attempts to organize the rabbinate of the entire country and its batei din into one. This created much controversy in the Old Yishuv, making Rabbi Frank the strongest halachic voice in favor of the Chief Rabbinate, while Rabbi Sonnenfeld and other members of the Eidah Hachareidis were exceedingly opposed. Angering the opposition even more, in 1921, Rabbi Frank recommended inviting Rav Kook to

Yerushalayim to become the official Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Palestine.

Rabbi Frank held a very unusual role in halachah and politics. Although many in the Old Yishuv strongly opposed his positions concerning the State, the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, and the role and position of Rabbi Kook, his greatness as a posek and his personage were always respected. In this, he stands in great contrast to both Rav Kook and Rabbi Herzog. Rav Kook was essentially ostracized by most of the Old Yishuv rabbanim; the Chareidi press and leadership often lambasted his opinions and personage.

Similarly, when Rabbi Herzog became chief rabbi of Palestine, his opinions were ignored by most of the Old Yishuv rabbanim, and he was frequently attacked by Mizrachi rabbanim and lay leaders who disagreed with his positions. His piskei halachah were frequently not accepted, and, upon occasion, he withdrew his pesak halachah rather than publicly dispute rulings of other respected posekim, such as the Chazon Ish, so as not to divide the halachic authority of the nascent country.

Not so Rabbi Frank. When he reached a halachic conclusion, he did not bow to pressure from anyone. Many, if not most, of these halachic rulings became the standard followed in Eretz Yisrael. For example, he ruled that powdered milk from America could be used, notwithstanding the

universal acceptance among the posekim of both the Old and the New Yishuv against using non-chalav Yisrael milk Despite his independent approach to pesak halachah, no one dared criticize Rabbi Frank personally even when they disagreed with his positions, whether political or halachic.

Rabbi Frank is the only individual in history to have served as the head of the beit din recognized by the Eidah Hachareidis, and also as an official rav in the State of Israel. He held his position as chief rabbi of Yerushalayim from 1935 until his passing on the 21st of Kislev, 5721 (December 10, 1960) when he was almost eighty-eight years old.

Upon Rabbi Frank’s passing, there was an attempt to fill his position with someone who would be respected as a posek by all streams of Klal Yisrael, and who, at the same time, would be politically acceptable. First, they approached Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, who, after consultation with his extended family, decided against taking the position. They then approached Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, who ultimately decided to remain in his post as the rosh yeshivah of Yeshiva Kol Torah. The fact that the two greatest posekim of Klal Yisrael were both offered to succeed Rabbi Frank, and that they both strongly considered accepting the position, might be the greatest testimony to Rabbi Frank’s unique contribution to the Jewish world and the State of Israel.

Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/American Colony

Rabbi Yehuda Amital (Oradea, Romania, 1924-Jerusalem, 2010)

By Rabbi Moshe Taragin

Born in 1924 in a small shtetl in Romania, Rabbi Yehuda Amital lived through the revolutions of Jewish history in the twentieth century. He survived the concentration camps and fought in the War of Independence. After the war, he studied and taught in premier yeshivot in Israel, and married the granddaughter of Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer. By founding Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, he deeply shaped both the Israeli Torah world and the settler movement. His life was a microcosm of twentieth-century Jewish history, and he left an indelible impact upon religious society in Israel.

A Sense of Mission

Many Holocaust survivors were burdened by survivor’s guilt. For Rav Amital, survival generated a sense of mission to fill the void left by the many who had perished. Conscious of this mission, he changed his family name from Klein to Amital to encapsulate the pasuk in Michah that portrays the Jewish survivors (ami, my nation) as a regenerating force similar to dew (tal). Recognizing his own assignment of revitalizing our people, he took the name Amital

The Hesder Revolution

In the aftermath of the Six-Day War, it was evident that our community desperately needed a new yeshivah model. Limited options were available for students desiring to merge army service with serious Torah study. Hesder hadn’t yet “taken off,” and was certainly not viewed as an ideal option for aspiring Torah scholars. On a communal level, the Religious Zionist community was in dire need of future Torah teachers and rabbis. Rabbi Amital launched Yeshivat Har Etzion, aware that he was designing a template for Hesder in general. While seeking to preserve the spirit of the European yeshivah world, he also updated it. Chief among his updates was the restoration of serious Tanach study, which had been largely neglected for at least five hundred years. Much of the Hesder movement, which today

numbers close to eighty yeshivot, was shaped by Rabbi Amital’s original design. Twenty years after forming Yeshivat Har Etzion and the surrounding city of Alon Shevut, Rabbi Amital was a driving force behind the formation of Mechinot for students uninterested in an intense five-year course of Torah study and army service. Mechinot were designed to instill religious pride, and afford Torah literacy for future soldiers who would ascend the ranks of the IDF and ultimately influence general Israeli society. Through sculpting Hesder, reviving Tanach study, and inaugurating the Mechina movement, Rav Amital was responsible for most of the Torah institutions in the Religious Zionist sector.

Kiddush Hashem

Rabbi Amital transformed and expanded the connotations of kiddush Hashem. Bringing Hashem into our world extended beyond Torah study and mitzvah performance, and even beyond martyrdom. Hashem’s presence in our world is a function of the state of His people. As our situation improves and our people prosper, the presence of Hashem is amplified, generating a kiddush Hashem. Conversely, when we suffer, or even decline, Hashem’s presence recedes, and any regression of His presence in our world is a chillul Hashem. The arc of Jewish history determines the presence of Hashem in our world, and the undulations of

Rabbi Moshe Taragin has been a rosh metivta at Yeshivat Har Etzion in Gush Etzion for the past twenty-four years. He has semichah from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, a BA in computer science from Yeshiva College, and an MA in English literature from City University.

Above: Rabbi Yehuda Amital teaching his students at Yeshivat Har Etzion.

Rabbi Amital viewed the State as an instrument of Hashem and a catalyst for kiddush Hashem. Photos courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion

Jewish history yield both kiddush and chillul Hashem

The Holocaust was the single greatest chillul Hashem since the destruction of the first Mikdash 2,700 years ago. The systematic attempt to eradicate everything Jewish from the streets of Europe was an assault on the Divine presence, not just on the Jewish people. A few years later, the restoration of Jewish sovereignty and peoplehood in our ancient homeland replenished Hashem’s presence and created a kiddush Hashem

Annually, on Rosh Hashanah, Rabbi Amital reviewed the events of the past year, analyzing how they had impacted Hashem’s presence. From the fall of Communism to the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, human events in general and the trajectory of the State of Israel in particular were part of a larger Divine drama.

Yitzchak Rabin’s assassination in 1995 by a religious Hesder talmid was a chillul Hashem that had to be reversed. Joining a secular government shortly after the murder was Rabbi Amital’s attempt to restore the presence of Hashem after it had been disfigured during those dark days. As his students, we were constantly aware that our personal lives and our national history each determined Hashem’s presence in the human realm.

Institutionalism

Viewing the State as an instrument of Hashem and a catalyst for kiddush Hashem, Rabbi Amital was an institutionalist who respected the offices and symbols of our government.

Over the years, I recall heated staff meetings in which rabbanim debated various demands of the army or the government that we felt compromised our educational interests. Our stiff opposition and strong disagreement never degenerated into disrespect for the national institutions that were expressions of kiddush Hashem Though we disagreed with government policies, the icons and agencies of the Jewish State were sacred.

Jewish Geometry

Though a student of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook’s writings, Rabbi Amital made an important break with a view adopted by many students of Rav Kook. Many of those students depicted a triangle composed of three components: Torah, Land, and People. A triangle metaphor implies inseparability, while suggesting that all three values are equivalent.

Rabbi Amital altered this geometry by describing these three values as positioned along a chronological timeline. Upon our departure from Egypt, our nation was born, while the Torah was only delivered seven weeks later. Based on this chronology, when necessary, the needs of Am Yisrael supersede Torah study. This calculation is already latent in much of Chassidut, which deeply influenced Rabbi Amital’s thought.

Similarly, Jewish peoplehood and Torah each preceded our entry into the Land of Israel, determining that both Am Yisrael and Torah supersede settlement of the Land. Rabbi Amital

lamented that our hyper-emphasis upon settlement had distracted us from other national agendas. Likewise, Jewish nationhood required a partnership with a secular Israel that was disenfranchised both with Torah and with greater Israel. To Rabbi Amital, this partnership was a sacred duty to Am Yisrael and to Jewish peoplehood, the highest of the three values. Finally, national needs, such as the prospect of peace, which in the 1990s seemed possible, would warrant painful land compromises. Converting the three values from a triangle to a timeline dramatically altered Religious Zionist ideology.

Rabbi Amital relandscaped the Israeli Torah world, saw the presence of Hashem in the evolution of our State, and prioritized Am Yisrael as the cardinal value of life in Israel.

Much of the Hesder movement, which today numbers close to eighty yeshivot, was shaped by Rabbi Amital’s original design.

Rabbi Amital dancing with Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein.

Rabbi Yaakov Friedman (Bohush, Romania, 1878–Tel Aviv, 1957)

By Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

The Chassidic movement made immigration to the Land of Israel a priority from its earliest days.

Rav Yisrael Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Chassidism, himself valued ahavat Eretz Yisrael so highly that his successor, Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch, successfully encouraged several of his most prominent colleagues and their followers to move there in the latter years of the eighteenth century.

Several Chassidic leaders actively continued to support aliyah, emigration

from Eastern Europe and settlement of the Holy Land, throughout the history of the movement, despite the opposition they occasionally faced from some of their contemporaries. One of the most determined supporters of aliyah was Rav Yisrael of Ruzhin—a great-grandson of the Mezritcher Maggid—many of whose followers settled in the Holy Land in the midnineteenth century, raising families and establishing synagogues, schools and charitable institutions that are still around today.

Rav Yisrael, known popularly as “the Ruzhiner,” had several sons who became Chassidic leaders, establishing “courts” that persisted at least until the Holocaust, including many that continue to thrive in modern Israel. They include Chortkov, Sadigura, Boyan, Kapishnitz, Bohush, Shtefanesht and Husiatyn.

The many descendants of the Ruzhiner followed their ancestor’s lead in every possible way by advocating aliyah and by those in the Diaspora financially supporting settlement in Eretz Yisrael. However, for ideological reasons many, and perhaps most, carefully separated themselves from the various Zionist movements. Still, they never ceased to follow the example of their distinguished ancestor.

One of the descendants of the Ruzhiner who did identify with the Zionist movement to some extent was a great-grandson of his, Rabbi Yaakov Friedman. While yet in Romania in his youth, he helped form a Religious Zionist organization, and he himself immigrated to Eretz Yisrael with his family and lived to witness and ardently celebrate the establishment of the State of Israel.

Rabbi Friedman was the son of Rav

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb is executive vice president, emeritus of the Orthodox Union.

Rabbi Friedman was a Chassidic rebbe who was an ardent supporter of Mizrachi. Courtesy of Rabbi Yosef Ginsberg/Rabbi Dr. Meir Tzvi Grossman

Above: View of Mount Carmel in 1947 Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Kluger Zoltan

Yitzchak, the rebbe of Bohush, a small town in Romania; Rav Yitzchak’s father was Rav Shalom Yosef, firstborn son of the Ruzhiner. His lineage is significant because his personal religious philosophy and his conduct as a spiritual leader were shaped by the example of his forebears.

Born in Bohush, Rav Yaakov Friedman married young. His bride was the daughter of Rav Yisrael of Husiatyn, a town situated in what is now Ukraine. Rav Yisrael, himself a grandson of the Ruzhiner, was the son of Rav Mordechai Shraga Friedman, the youngest son of the Ruzhiner. Rav Mordechai Shraga had many followers, known as Husiatiner (often pronounced “Shotiner”) Chassidim, whose reputation was that of the idit d’idit, or crème de la crème, of that region because of their pious simplicity, interpersonal warmth and wit, and subdued erudition.

Rav Yaakov and his father-in-law Rav Yisrael immigrated to Eretz Yisrael with their families in 1937. They resided in Tel Aviv, where they established a small synagogue that eventually became a vibrant center not only for the few Husiatiner Chassidim who had survived the Holocaust but

for the entire rapidly growing city. Rav Yaakov, who celebrated Yom Ha’atzmaut, assumed the title of Husiatiner Rebbe upon his father-inlaw’s demise in 1947, and continued in that role until his own passing in 1957. Every Yom Ha’atzmaut, Rav Yaakov would host a tisch, and wearing his shtreimel, he would deliver a unique derashah connected to the significance of the day.

Fortunately for us, Rav Yaakov kept a written record of his public talks, many of which were passionate sermons supporting Religious Zionism that were delivered at gatherings of his followers on Shabbat and chagim. These writings have been published in two volumes entitled Oholei Yaakov (The Tents of Jacob). They constitute a treasure trove of Chassidic discourses, ultimately based upon the spiritual heritage of his ancestors, but directed to an audience who witnessed the Holocaust yet also lived to see and celebrate the creation of the State of Israel. In his writings as in his personal example, Rav Yaakov had the uncanny ability to apply traditional Chassidic teachings to the historical circumstances in which he found himself. Moreover, Rav Yaakov had

Every Yom

a deep spiritual connection to Eretz Yisrael, as well as the unique ability to see the Yad Hashem at play and to recognize the good within those involved in the Zionist enterprise, even those who seemed distant from tradition. What is evident in many of his teachings and writings is his love

Ha’atzmaut, Rav Yaakov would host a tisch, and wearing his shtreimel, he would deliver a unique derashah connected to the significance of the day.

The Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem, 1946. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans

and positivity toward the Zionist cause, the State of Israel, and each and every member of Klal Yisrael.

Two selections from his written works will serve as an introduction to his thought. The first, freely translated from the original Hebrew, is from a talk he gave in 1950:

Now that we are privileged to have the State of Israel and witness an ingathering of exiles, it is appropriate that we rejoice. As the Ohr HaChaim insists in his comment upon the opening verse in Parashat Ki Tavo: “Ein lismo’ach ela b’yeshivat ha’Aretz—one must reserve expressions of joy for when the Land is being settled.”

But is it possible to rejoice when we witness our spiritual condition? I avoid harsh criticism. It is our obligation to judge everyone favorably. There are three causes for our painful and worrisome spiritual situation: (1) the deficient education that some of us received; (2) the detrimental surroundings in which some of us reside; and (3) the frightful Shoah that befell our people these past few years.

The verse “. . . for He will avenge the blood of His servants” (Deuteronomy 32) has not yet been fulfilled. How apt are the words of King Solomon (Ecclesiastes 8:11): “For the sentence of the deed of evil is not executed swiftly; and so, the mind of men fills up with the thought of doing wrong.” Note Rashi’s comments, which inform us that the Almighty’s delay in holding evildoers to account often causes us to adopt faulty beliefs.

Yes, the current spiritual situation is of concern, but we must not despair . . . Teshuvah, the enhancement of our spirituality, will come, not from America or England but from us, here in the Land of Israel.

Rav Yaakov takes this last statement further with another frequent theme of his, exemplified in the following quotation from a talk he gave in Elul 1952: Now, right now, what is to be done? This is a question I was asked when I visited Yerushalayim earlier this year. And I answered: We do not have the ability to change the ways of secular Jews, for we have no influence over them. But we do have influence over ourselves! Let us proceed to bolster our faith, to develop our love for Torah and our fear of Heaven, our ethical conduct and our morality, and guide the world around us toward righteousness. Then we will achieve, with the help of the Almighty, the Geulah sheleimah.

The Husiatiner Rebbe, Rav Yaakov, successor of Rav Yisrael, had a son Rav Yitzchak, who succeeded him but who passed away not long after his father. All three are buried in the Tiberias cemetery, alongside each other. As we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary of the State of Israel, and as we anticipate the next seventy-five years, we would do well to emulate the teachings of Rav Yaakov of Husiatyn—to celebrate the establishment of a sovereign State of Israel as a Divine gift, to recognize its flaws, and to correct them not by judging others but by looking inwards so that our teshuvah sheleimah effects a Geulah sheleimah.

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Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein (Paris, 1933–Jerusalem, 2015)

By Rabbi Mosheh Lichtenstein

We all have favorite stories. One of my father’s was always mentioned whenever he discussed the significance of Eretz Yisrael. It was not a tale of action or a dramatic war episode, nor did it even transpire in the Land of Israel. It truly was, though, a drama—a learning moment of deep significance that occurred between a powerful rebbi and an attentive talmid, which left a lifelong impression upon the devoted student.

Having arrived in the United States as a refugee from Europe in 1942, my father first had the opportunity to visit Eretz Yisrael at age twenty-eight. It was

the realization of a dream to visit the Land that he was so attached to and to meet the society that he was deeply connected to. It was a lengthy nine-weeklong stay during which he crisscrossed the country, interacted with all segments of the religious community, from Meah Shearim to Kibbutz Sa’ad, and soaked up the unique atmosphere of the country. Upon his return, he went to visit his rebbi, Rabbi Yitzchok Hutner, zt”l, who inquired about his impressions. Having arrived from cosmopolitan New York City, my father mentioned various phenomena reflective of a society that revolved around Jewish life experiences and the prominent role of Yiddishkeit in the public sphere. Each of these was curtly dismissed by Rabbi Hutner with the comment, “I saw the exact same thing in Warsaw or Vilna.” After nothing was left as an expression of Eretz Yisrael’s uniqueness, Rabbi Hutner roared, “And what about the kedushah? Did you not experience the kedushah, in and of itself?” It was a retort that my father never forgot—it pierced his soul and forever transformed the meaning of Eretz Yisrael for him.

I mention this to emphasize that any discussion of the religious value of Medinat Yisrael in my father’s hashkafah must always be overshadowed by the centrality of kedushat Eretz Yisrael to the religious experience of life in Israel. The basic religious experience is the man-G-d encounter, and therefore the primary significance of Eretz Yisrael must be its role in this encounter. He deeply felt the kedushah of Eretz Yisrael, integrated it into the totality of his avodat Hashem, and saw it as enhancing the Torah that he taught and the mitzvot that he fulfilled.

In this scheme of things, kedushah with its transcendental nature is paramount, while the State, which is a political vehicle and a means rather than an end (I vividly remember his shock when someone quoted to him Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook’s statement that the state is the ultimate happiness/beatitude, ha’osher hayoter elyon) is a secondary and minor value. However, if the man-G-d encounter is described in the Torah as being lifnei Hashem (in the presence of Hakadosh Baruch Hu), there is an additional

Rabbi Lichtenstein believed that kedushat Ha’aretz is paramount. Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gershon Elinsoz

Rabbi Mosheh Lichtenstein is corosh yeshivah of Yeshivat Har Etzion.

relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, is also crucial to religious life, that is described by the Torah—to stand and serve G-d.

This indeed was a cardinal element of my father’s avodat Hashem—the fact that it is avodah, i.e., service. Man’s mission is to serve G-d and to harness all of his resources to realize G-d’s goals in our world.

His bar mitzvah parashah was Bamidbar, and he always viewed the role of Shevet Levi, defined in that parashah as service (avodah and sheirut), as a paradigm for the basic posture of religious life. He approvingly quoted Milton’s “they also serve who only stand and wait” as an expression of man’s placing himself at G-d’s command, and he very much identifies in his writings with F.H. Bradley’s description of man as being at “my station and its duties.” In the

broader sense, this is part of a worldview that sees man as a proactive being with a Divine mandate to improve and preserve the world, l’ovdah ul’shomrah; it is his mission to do so in the service of his Creator. Man’s subordination and indebtedness to his Creator is not only a metaphysical fact but also an obligation to devote oneself to serving the Almighty. As Yeshayahu (44:21) states: “. . . atah yetzarticha, eved li, I have formed you. You are My servant.”

The role of man in improving the world is not limited to nature and science, but is equally true of history and society. The Torah emphasizes the need to engage history, and the proper organization of society is a major concern of it. Thus, Medinat Yisrael is not only an important expression of Jewish identity, a safe haven for Jews and a national home for which we must thank Hakadosh Baruch Hu, but also an opportunity and a call to action.

If the Rambam, following in Yirmiyahu’s footsteps, claimed that true knowledge of G-d requires emulating His attributes of justice, mercy and charity, chesed, tzedakah u’mishpat, in the world, and if it is incumbent upon us to improve Jewish life and the life of Jews, then the challenge of establishing a just and religious society is primarily in a Jewish state. If the Torah teaches that realizing Jewish historical destiny is a goal of ours, then the place to do so is in Eretz Yisrael. The shortcomings and failures of the Jewish State are not a reason to reject it, but an additional spur to action, just as its historical and religious accomplishments are not a reason to rest upon its laurels but an incentive to further these goals. When explaining his decision to go on aliyah, my father commented that he wanted to be a participant on the playing field and not a spectator in the grandstands of the Jewish historical drama. He was a soldier committed to Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s missions, and it was thus that he viewed Medinat Yisrael. Baruch Hashem, he was able to contribute much as an operative of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. He had the privilege, together with others, to be matziv gvul almanah,* in Gush Etzion and to have a significant impact upon the

stability and prosperity of a fledgling settlement that is now an established community. His major contribution— the establishment of a major center of Torah learning and his articulation for Religious Zionist society of a vision in which history and general knowledge are integrated into Torah, the legitimization of Torah study that goes hand in hand with military service, as well as representing a worldview that fused religious humanism with Torah—was not only an educational and Torah accomplishment but also a direct contribution to the spiritual well-being of Israel and, therefore, a fulfillment of mitzvat yishuv ha’Aretz

Anyone familiar with my father knows that every topic that he discussed was always demonstrated to have several different qualities. Medinat Yisrael would certainly elicit from him a multi-faceted presentation that would highlight quite a few positive values associated with its establishment and emphasize the need for thanksgiving to Hakadosh Baruch Hu for these accomplishments. He would not shy away from addressing negative elements and would frame the challenges facing us to enhance and improve life in Medinat Yisrael. Due to space constraints, I have focused upon one particular point, but the reader must bear in mind that this is a very partial presentation of his view and but a single perspective selected from an array of perspectives that my father had regarding Medinat Yisrael. It is, though, a characteristic and powerful example of his worldview and the ability of an inspired and devoted individual to serve Hakadosh Baruch Hu and to contribute to Am Yisrael through his service. May his perspective and example inspire us.

*Ed. Note: The Gemara states that one who sees Jewish houses in Eretz Yisrael that have been restored after the Churban recites a blessing “matziv gvul almanah,” He who reestablishes a widow in her borders,” which refers to the restoration of the Jewish people to Eretz Yisrael.

The shortcomings and failures of the Jewish State are not a reason to reject it, but an additional spur to action, just as its historical and religious accomplishments are not a reason for it to rest upon its laurels but an incentive to further these goals.

The Birth of the Jewish State: Rabbinic Views and Perspectives

Compiled and translated by Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski

Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler (Lithuania, 1892-Bnei Brak, 1953). The mashgiach of Ponevezh Yeshiva in Bnei Brak, Rabbi Dessler wrote the following during Israel’s War of Independence (Elul 5708, September 1948):

What we are in the midst of now in the Holy Land is difficult to describe as “the beginning of the Redemption” (atchalta d’Geulah)

but it certainly represents great kindness. [We have gone] from one extreme to the other—from the extreme of suffering, the destruction of six million of our brethren, to the opposite extreme—the settling of our people in our state in the Holy Land . . . . Woe unto he who comes to judgment and is still so blind so as not to see something as clear as this (Michtav Me’Eliyahu, vol. 3, p. 352).

Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski is executive editor of OU Press.

Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer (Lithuania, 1870-Jerusalem, 1953) studied in Volozhin under the Netziv and Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik. While in Volozhin, he was a member of the secret society Nes Tziona, part of the religious Chovevei Zion movement. In 1897, he was appointed head of the yeshivah in Slutzk and subsequently became rav of the town as well. In 1925, he moved to Jerusalem where he headed the Etz Chaim Yeshiva. Renowned as one of the greatest sages of the generation, Rav Isser Zalman was head of the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah of Agudas Yisrael and author of Even HaEzel on the Rambam. Rabbi Reuven Katz, one of Rav Isser Zalman’s students from Slutzk, author of Degel Reuven and rav of Petach Tikvah, wrote the following about his illustrious teacher:

How great was the joy of the elder sage of the generation that he merited to see with his own eyes the establishment and formation of the State of Israel. We cannot deny that many wholly religious Jews were fearful of the founding of the State because they were concerned that a spirit of heresy and anarchy would reign in it. Indeed, this fear was not

entirely in vain . . . But nevertheless, his heart rejoiced to see the great event of the founding of the State. In the purity and goodness of his heart, with the clarity and straightness of his mind, he knew and understood that this revolution in the status and destiny of the nation could not have occurred by chance, without the guiding providence and explicit will of the Creator. The formation of the State was a product of the world’s Conductor who anticipated and foresaw this time, and therefore we cannot ignore or oppose its existence . . . (p. 245).

Likewise, in his eulogy for Rav Isser Zalman, Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac Halevi Herzog described how he had organized in his home leaders of the Yishuv who would oppose the recommendations of the British Peel Commission, which would

have created a Jewish state in a small portion of the Biblical Land of Israel. “Suddenly,” said Rabbi Herzog, Rav Isser Zalman entered the room and, trembling, requested: “A state is something that we have not had for nearly two thousand years, and now it is being offered to us, albeit on a small scale for now. Please do not push it off. It is evident that it is from Heaven and it is a sign of the atchalta d’Geulah” (Techumin, vol. 19, p. 270).

Rav Isser Zalman’s son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehudah, rav of Rechovot and founder of Yeshivat HaDarom, told the following story about his father: During the 1948 War of Independence, Rav Isser Zalman was injured by a shell fragment. While he was recovering, a visitor expressed his concern about the fact that the State was run by nonreligious Jews. Rav Isser Zalman responded that we cannot advise G-d on how to run the world. “We can’t understand everything. Generations of holy, righteous people longed for these great days but didn’t merit it. This generation did. Why? Probably because that is G-d’s will” (R.M. Kasher, HaTekufah HaGedolah, p. 308).

Rabbi Yechiel Michel Tukachinsky (Lithuania, 1871-Jerusalem, 1955) studied in and subsequently headed the Etz Chaim Yeshiva of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem. A prolific author, he wrote many books related to the Land of Israel and its sanctity. The following is excerpted from the introduction to his Sefer Eretz Yisrael, which he completed on the final day of his life and which was published posthumously, within weeks of his death, in 1955.

Anyone who is accustomed to viewing the reality of our world not as routine occurrences but who instead sees in all of existence—the

revolution of celestial bodies and the development of each clod of earth, in each molecule and atom— wonders beyond comprehension, sees too in the history of Israel, in its annals from the beginning of time, in both the radiant luminosity and the melancholy gloom, a sublime process that has no precedent or parallel among the nations of the world. Through this, he realizes that the current shift is the first budding of the prophetic vision: “. . . and I will turn your captivity, and gather you from all the nations, and from all the places whither I have driven you, said the L-rd; and I will bring

you back unto the place whence I caused you to be carried away captive” (Jeremiah 29:14). After the ingathering of exiles, we will, with G-d’s help, reach the next stages until the ultimate redemption, “and you shall know that I, the L-rd, am your Savior, and I, the Mighty One of Jacob, your Redeemer” (Isaiah 60:16) . . . . Today, with the establishment of the State of Israel, the gates of the Land are open to the scattered people of Israel, and the time is not distant when the Land of Israel will once again be, with G-d’s help, the home and capital for the nation (Sefer Eretz Yisrael, pp. 9-14).

Rabbi Dr. Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg (Poland, 1884-Switzerland, 1966) studied in the Slabodka Yeshiva under Rabbi Nosson Tzvi Finkel, “the Alter,” and Rabbi Moshe Mordechai Epstein. He was the rector, or rosh yeshivah, of the Hildesheimer Seminary in Berlin, and after the Holocaust he settled in Montreux, Switzerland. The author of Seridei Eish and Lifrakim, he was a deeply original thinker and posek respected across the Orthodox spectrum. The following excerpts convey his attitude toward the establishment of the State.  Is this already the beginning of Redemption (atchalta d’Geulah)?

If you like, but if you are afraid of using this term so as not to belittle our hope and our all-embracing [Messianic] mission, you can call it by another name. I would call it the “key of redemption” (maftei’ach shel Geulah), a term found in the Midrash. We received the right keys in our hands. Jerusalem—the majority of it—now belongs to us, and it is the seat of a Jewish government. There gather and dwell the best of our people that

survived . . . We have merited what hundreds of generations in Israel have only dreamed of . . . The key of redemption is in our hands . . . Political Zionism has achieved its purpose. It has attained more than its founders could have dreamed. Now it is time to implement a new plan, the plan of our first redeemer [Moses] (Kitvei HaGaon Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2, pp. 362-363).

For any Jew whose heart has not frozen completely, it is not necessary to explain the fullness of the blessing which the State of Israel has brought us. Our renewed State in the Land of our forefathers has revived and brought independence to our people dwelling in Zion; to the exiles of Israel dwelling in foreign lands, it has brought honor and glory. The great debate about whether to recognize a State that, to our sorrow, was not founded upon Torah and mitzvot dissipates like smoke in face of the living reality of a Jewish state power, with a full-fledged security apparatus that, with unmatched dedication, guards over our lives and the lives of our children inside the Land, and the

honor and rights of those outside of it.  The reestablished Land is holy to us. Besides for its intrinsic holiness, [produced] by the word of our G-d, the G-d of our forefathers, and besides for [the holiness that stems from] the mitzvot that depend upon it, it has also been sanctified by holy Jewish blood, by the blood of the pioneers who dedicated their flesh and blood to drain the malariainfested swamps and transform them into flowering and flourishing Gardens of Eden for us and for those who come after us. It was sanctified by the blood of our warriors who fought the wars of our nation, for the conquest and freedom of the Land, in order to establish a shore of refuge and a remnant in the Land of our fathers for the nation adrift, anguished and persecuted (Sinai: A Journal for Torah and Jewish Studies, vol. 44, p. 127).

We were not only “few against many,” but a small settlement of less than a million souls, with a few hundred rifles, fighting against six nations of 100 million Arabs with armies and planes and tanks. We had, at the beginning, almost nothing, and they arose to swallow us alive and throw us into the sea.

Reprinted with permission from Reb Shraga Feivel: The Life and Times of Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz, the Architect of Torah in America, by Yonoson Rosenblum, with permission from the copyright holders, ArtScroll/ Mesorah Publications, Ltd.

On Friday, November 29, 1947, the United Nations debated the issue of partitioning the British Mandate for Palestine into two countries, one Arab and one Jewish. Reb Shraga Feivel prayed fervently for partition. He had no radio in his house, but that Friday he borrowed one and set it to the news, leaving it on for Shabbos. He waited with such tense anticipation to hear the outcome of the U.N. vote that he did not come to shalosh seudos

When he heard the U.N.’s decision to establish a Jewish state, he stood up and recited the blessing “Who is good and Who does good”. . . Four days after the United Nations vote, on 19 Kislev, Reb Shraga Feivel spoke

in Bais Medrash Elyon, to present his talmidim with a Torah perspective on the event. He began by emphasizing that in the absence of prophecy no one could interpret the U.N. declaration with any certitude. Nevertheless, the whole tenor of his remarks reflected his hope that the moment was a positive one for the Jewish people. He described three aspects of the final redemption: the redemption of the Land, the ingathering of the exiles, and the return of the Divine Presence to her proper place. The redemption of the Land is the first of the three . . . In a similar vein, he also explained why the secular Zionists might have been chosen to play such a fateful role in the history of the Jewish people . . . Divine Providence might have arranged that the secular Zionists play a major role in the redemption of Eretz Yisrael precisely in order to maintain their connection to Klal Yisrael.

In a conversation with the Satmar Rav, shortly after his talk on the U.N. declaration, Reb Shraga Feivel was subjected to the sharpest criticism for his “Zionist leanings.” Later he told his family, “I could have answered him Chazal for Chazal, Midrash for Midrash, but I did not want to incur his wrath, for he is a great man and a tzaddik.” . . . In 1948, after the Arabs attacked the newly declared Jewish state and soldiers were falling on the battlefield, several roshei yeshiva taunted Reb Shraga Feivel for having recited the blessing. Reb Shraga Feivel

turned to Rabbi Aharon Kotler, who agreed with him that the favorable U.N. resolution was indeed worthy of the blessing. . . . Once full-scale war broke out after the State of Israel declared its existence on May 14, 1948, Reb Shraga Feivel’s thoughts were never far from Eretz Yisrael. A group of students saw him outside the Mesivta building one day talking excitedly with Rabbi Gedaliah Schorr and gesticulating rapidly with the newspaper held in his hand. “If I were your age,” he told the students, “I would take a gun and go to Eretz Yisrael.” . . . Just two weeks after the Declaration of Independence, the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem, including the Western Wall, fell to the Arabs. Every Jew living there was either killed, taken prisoner, or exiled from the ancient walls of Jerusalem. After the Shabbos-eve meal, as he reached the words “Have mercy, Hashem, on Israel, Your nation, and on Yerushalayim, Your city,” in Bircas HaMazon, Reb Shraga Feivel burst out in violent sobbing, which brought on a massive heart attack. The doctors were immediately summoned and had him carried to his bed with orders that he must remain absolutely still. . . . Even when he was under the oxygen tent, those attending him saw his fists beating on the side of the bed and heard him repeat over and over again, “Vos vet zein mit Eretz Yisrael? —What will be with Eretz Yisrael?”

He had no radio in his house, but that Friday he borrowed one and set it to the news, leaving it on for Shabbos. He waited with such tense anticipation to hear the outcome of the U.N. vote that he did not come to shalosh seudos. When he heard the U.N.’s decision to establish a Jewish state, he stood up and recited the blessing ‘Who is good and Who does good’ . . .

Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz (Vilag, Hungary, 1886Brooklyn, New York, 1948)

Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg (Jerusalem, 1915-Jerusalem, 2006) was one of the most prominent posekim of the twentieth century, and author of the many volumes of responsa Tzitz Eliezer. In 1952, he published Hilchot Medinah, dedicated to the halachic questions raised for the first time in two millennia by the founding of the State of Israel. The following is excerpted from his introduction to the work, Mevo She’arim:

When the L-rd returned our captives like the streams in the Negev, He granted

us the joyous song of the harvester, after his sowing with tears. The atchalta d’Geulah (beginning of Redemption), the founding of our State, on part of our Holy Land, with our own government— in seeing these wonders, even the nations point and say, “The L-rd has done great things for them” (Psalms 126:2). New horizons of halachah have been opened before us and we have been presented with a great mission, extending to vast dimensions, to deal with and delve into areas of halachah which for almost two thousand years

were merely “laws for the Messianic era.” Suddenly, like dreamers, we have seen with our own eyes the wonder of the Master of wonders; in the flash of an eye, this has become a duty of the first order, whose fulfillment cannot be delayed by a moment. For we need a state like we need air to breathe, and [these laws] are the fortresses of strength in the construction of our new lives; the character and nature of the state— and its existence—depend upon their implementation, building an edifice for eternity.

Rabbi Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman (Lithuania, 1886-Bnei Brak, 1969), known as the Ponevezher Rav, studied under Rabbi Eliezer Gordon and Rabbi Shimon Shkop in the Telshe Yeshiva, as well as under the Chafetz Chaim in Radin. In 1919, he was appointed rav of Ponevezh, a major hub of Lithuanian Jewish life. He served as a representative of the Agudah in the Lithuanian Parliament. Rabbi Kahaneman’s family and community were wiped out in the Holocaust but he was saved and made his way to Palestine, where he reestablished the Ponevezh Yeshiva in Bnei Brak. The following is excerpted from the Ponevezher Rav’s letter to Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion in 1959 in response to Ben-Gurion’s

question of “Who is a Jew?”

Allow me to add a few words to your Honor [Ben-Gurion], which flow from the heart’s depths. I see in the vision of the return to Zion and in our generation the revelation of the light of Divine Providence holding our hands and walking us through the scalding waters which have arisen to swallow us. I see G-d in every movement of the people who dwell in Zion. I am confident that your Honor sees the matter, for who, like you, the captain standing at the helm of the ship of the nation, can see as clearly the great miracles of each moment and each hour? We are G-d’s people, and our Land is a heaven-land . . . Let us go out to greet the Holy One, let us accept and draw close to the Divine

Rabbi Shaul Yisraeli (Slutzk, White Russia, 1909-Jerusalem, 1995): The rosh yeshivah of Mercaz HaRav and author of many sefarim, Rabbi Yisraeli wrote:

Perhaps they will say, “But we have not yet reached the full redemption” —but why should we devalue the incomplete salvation, even if we are looking forward to a full salvation? Why should we be ungrateful and

Providence extended to us, let us meet our brethren, the Children of Israel, on the pathways of eternity of our people—His Torah and His mitzvot to the complete redemption speedily (Kovetz Mihu Yehudi, p. 55).

not recognize the kindness revealed to us? Through acknowledgment to the Giver, the gates of kindness and mercy are opened to bestow upon us further blessings and success. In my humble opinion, this is but the counsel of Satan, to diminish G-d’s gift in our eyes, offering different excuses to ourselves, even though every eye can see how they do not stand up to logical scrutiny (Chavot Binyamin, §13).

Rabbi Dr. Nachum Eliezer Rabinovitch (Montreal, Canada, 1928-Maaleh Adumim, 2020), Rabbi Rabinovitch was the rosh yeshivah of Birkat Moshe in Maaleh Adumim and the author of Yad Peshutah on the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah. The following is from his work, Mesilot Bilvavam, translated by Rabbi Elli Fischer:

The establishment of the State of Israel, the ingathering of the exiles, the prosperity of the Jewish State, and the triumph of the IDF over powerful enemies are manifestations of G-d’s might and awesomeness, which enable us to face new challenges every day. There is one simple and basic fact that is there for the whole world to see. It is so simple and so obvious that millions upon millions of people all over the globe see it and acknowledge it: The State of Israel exists, and it bears G-d’s name though its very existence and very name. It has restored G-d’s crown to its former glory . . .

The story of Israel’s rebirth signifies the renewed manifestation of G-d’s majesty, not only for us, but for others as well. The man of faith is also the man of truth. Not only does he believe, he

Rabbi Yehoshua Hutner (Warsaw, Poland, 1910-Jerusalem, 2009) A student of the Chafetz Chaim and Rabbi Shimon Shkop, Rav Hutner served for half a century as the director of Yad HaRav Herzog and its many projects (including, most notably, the Encyclopedia Talmudit). He moved to Jerusalem in the 1930s. On the 25th of Elul 5755 (1994), he wrote a letter to an acquaintance describing the miracles of the War of Independence and of the founding of the State (published in HaMaayan, Nissan 5777).

Is there any doubt that the whole year 5708 [1948], and especially the summer months of that year, was one long and sustained great miracle, the salvation of the Jewish people and the Land of Israel, that to this day still cannot be fathomed? One living in Jerusalem in the summer of 1948 felt the explosions overhead on all sides of

also bears witness, and his testimony can be trusted to confirm his faith. “You are My witnesses, says the L-rd, and I am G-d” (Isaiah 43:12). The Sages explain: “When you are My witnesses, then I am G-d, but when you are not My witnesses, I am, as it were, not G-d!” (Sifrei, Devarim 346). This is the great paradox of faith! G-d’s revelation only becomes revealed if we are aware of it and bear witness to it. G-d is our Redeemer only if we hear His promise as a commandment that must be fulfilled: “He says to Jerusalem ‘Let it be inhabited,’ and to the cities of Judah ‘Let them be built’” (Isaiah 44:26) . . . .

It is clear that Zionism has much in common with other national movements. There is also no doubt that its thinkers meant to provide a shelter

the [Jordanian Arab] Legion, and the danger of the city’s conquest, and the danger of its inhabitants being killed by the Egyptians as well as the Arab Legion . . . . We were not only “few against many,” but a small settlement of less than a million souls, with a few hundred rifles, fighting against six nations of 100 million Arabs with armies and planes and tanks. We had, at the beginning, almost nothing, and they arose to swallow us alive and throw us into the sea. [America declared an embargo against us and forbade selling even one rifle to us. Salvation came by miraculous means, for anyone who wants to see clearly, in that G-d advised Stalin . . . to send us weapons through the Czechs.] G-d turned distress into salvation, and our enemies fled for their lives. Is there any Jew of intelligence, who has even a small flicker of simple faith without

for the homeless. Nevertheless, above all, it was a historic need to fulfill the covenant between G-d and His people. For the believer, there is a religious imperative and a religious value in having a total societal framework in which the Torah can operate. Zionism offered the only possibility for meeting this need within the framework of the new political conditions. If the Torah sits abandoned in a corner, even if it is cloaked in gold and scarlet, it cannot bear “faithful testimony.” For its testimony to be heard, it needs an independent people living in its sovereign state and building its life according to the Torah’s values . . . .

The challenges we face are very great indeed. The existence of the State makes possible the fulfillment of the Torah’s greatest aims: the ingathering of the exiles, the building and cultivation of the Land, and the fashioning of a just society that sanctifies G-d’s Name for all peoples to see. We have the responsibility of realizing these aims. To achieve them we will need all the abilities and all the talents of all Jews everywhere, and we hope that, with G-d’s help, the realization of these goals will usher in the Messianic era.

mixing in politics, who would not admit to the miracle visible to all the nations, unless he has placed upon his face an eightfold veil and refuses to see reality? . . .

In truth, the miracle of Yom Ha’atzmaut 1948 and the miracle of the salvation of 1948 are miracles for all time, for the salvation of the Torah and the nation, even when most of the [government] ministers fight against the Torah, as I will prove . . . The more they have fought against the Torah and religion from the left, the more Torah and religion have grown from the right, and the sum total is the victory of the Torah of the nation in its Land through the heretical government— even though their intent is the opposite! Is this not the greatest miracle? But to see it, one must look carefully, for without deep examination one sees the opposite . . .

The Return to Zion: An Excerpt

The article that follows is excerpted from The Return to Zion: Addresses on Religious Zionism and American Orthodoxy—The Karasick Family Edition, a new volume, published by OU Press and KTAV Publishing, consisting of addresses by Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik between the years 1939 and 1958. The addresses, originally in Yiddish and translated by Shaul Seidler-Feller, were delivered at gatherings convened by the Mizrachi Organization of America and/or Hapoel Hamizrachi of America. The talk below, entitled “Jewry’s Present Concerns,” was delivered at a mass demonstration for a “Torah-True Land of Israel,” on May 21, 1946, in New York City, and organized by the Religious-National Bloc, which included Hapoel Hamizrachi, among other organizations.

“And a Man Wrestled with Him until the Break of Dawn”

When we consider the present situation from a historical-ethical standpoint, we must assert that to analyze the cataclysmic pains of these last four years and ask “why” is futile and leads only to despair. We dare not imitate Job with his questions; they lead nowhere. But we also dare not— and it would constitute a historical crime if we were to do so—ignore our quiet, continual, daily suffering, which derives from the loneliness of the modern Jew; from the indifference of the nations of the world; from the lack of assurance that they will not say to us, one fine day, “Go away from us, for you have become far too big for us” (Gen. 26:16); from the awareness that there is a chasm, mysterious and

unfathomable, that separates the Jew from the Gentile; from the fate that we very often become the scapegoat for every tyrant and demagogue. Our paradoxical character brings us suffering. We dare not allow all of this to simply remain a paradoxical fate, an illogical and incomprehensible enigma; rather, it must be transformed into destiny, self-determination, and free choice. Our current book is not Job but Genesis. Abraham’s motto was: a nation is born of paradoxes and suffering. Our motto must be: a nation is reborn of paradoxes and suffering. “And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn”: following the generations-long tussle between the Keneset Yisrael and historical fate, the sun, the morning star of a new era, must rise.

How so? Through assimilatory measures? Or, as recommended by other, extreme Orthodox parties, through complete isolation from Western culture, compressing our existence into sectarianism, sealed off and secluded from the tempo of modern times? You know quite well that both solutions are empty dreams. Jews cannot assimilate, and Gentiles will not start liking them for doing so. At the same time, we cannot enclose ourselves within a Great Wall of China and break off all of our connections with the surrounding culture. The segment of Orthodoxy preaching such a strategy is insincere: they do not raise their own children that way. And I hate hypocrisy, believing one thing and saying another.

But if our history is one of tension between Abraham ha-Ivri and his environment, it is also one of contact with the world and its culture. Tension is a type of relationship, a kind of connection with the opposing side.

Photos courtesy of Yeshiva University Archives

Where there is isolation, there can be no tension. If positive electricity is not united with negative electricity, there is no electrical tension, and no dynamic electricity or electrical current can be produced. Only contact and unification yield the tension that results in electrical sparks and a current.

Our history, from our forefather Abraham onward, is one of constant contact with world history, connection with general culture, and collaboration as well. By the same token, however, there remains the paradoxical tension of those lonely wanderers who saw a great vision and sought to establish their splendid prophecy as the fundament of a new world. Such suffering opens new horizons, and a new morning star beckons to us from the historical distance.

At the same time, there approaches another moment, the moment of vengeance. We Jews wish to take revenge against the German murderers of a third of our people. We have always maintained that vengeance is sometimes necessary and holy, because evil must at times be eradicated with violence. The Old Testament, with its “passionate, avenging G-d” (Nahum 1:2), spilled far less blood than did the New, with its god-man of love and its ethical pacifism, which has lately become very much in vogue thanks to Romain Rolland, Tolstoy, Stefan Zweig, Franz Werfel, and the non-Christian Gandhi. If the political world would have understood the Old Testament, it would not have come to catastrophe. “Great is vengeance, for it was positioned between two letters, as it says, ‘G-d of retribution, L-rd, G-d of retribution, appear!’ (Ps. 94:1)”

(Sanhedrin 92a) —vengeance appears between two Names of the Master of the Universe. As they were dying in crematoria in Poland and Germany, our martyrs demanded vengeance.

But what is vengeance? We cannot take physical revenge, and I doubt Jews would do so against the hundreds of thousands of murderers even if they could. Our hands are clean of blood, far cleaner than those of the Catholic nuns with their eyes trained heavenward.

Could there be a greater form of

vengeance, historical vengeance, undying vengeance—in a world that left us to be slaughtered and massacred and that sought to rid itself of us—than our very continued existence, paradoxically-mysteriously in contact with world culture but simultaneously in opposition to the evil therein, dreaming an eternal vision of the End of Days, and vying with a mysterious, universal man— “And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn”? In spite of all of our enemies, and even many liberals and supposed friends, who advise us to commit spiritual-national suicide and undergo good-natured, painless self-dissolution—advisers who can probably be justified if we consider our suffering from the standpoint of Job, from the perspective of almighty fate, which plays with man as with a ball— we must, on the contrary, grow larger and more powerful, becoming spiritual giants like Abraham after the Binding

or like Jacob after his tussle with the angel! We must capture the admiration and envy of the world, and with their blessing: “And he blessed him there” (Gen. 32:30).

Moses received the rays of light not from the first Giving of the Torah but from the second. Why? The first Giving of the Torah took place in the context of an apocalyptic Theophany, without suffering, paradoxes, enigmas, resistance, opposition, and tension: “There was thunder, and lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud blast of the horn” (Ex. 19:16). The mountain burned like fire, angels soared through the air. Six hundred thousand Jews went forth to accept the Torah, shouting, “We will do and we will listen!” (Ex. 24:7). The whole cosmos was quiet, calm: “The world was silent and still” (Shemot Rabbah, sec. 29:9). The entire universe bore witness to the Theophany, and Moses became the hero of mankind. The second Giving of the Torah,

Sometimes, in moments of gloom, in twilights of melancholy, when Satan, wrapped in shadow, asks me, “Will Jews succeed in their two gigantic undertakings, the building of the land in Palestine and the establishment of Torah everywhere, when there are so many Sanballats, destructive forces, and adversaries, both internal and external; when ignorance, dismal assimilation, and indifferent resignation consume the organism of the Jewish nation like a cancer?” —I get disoriented for a moment.

by contrast, was full of suffering, disappointment, and mourning. The nation suddenly goes mad, creating a Calf and repudiating the G-d they had seen only a short while before. They go back to being slaves, idolaters, and wild men. G-d wishes to obliterate them, and the Shekhinah departs. Moses is on his own, fighting with the nation for G-d’s sake and also—as if one could say this—fighting with the Master of the Universe for the nation’s sake. G-d says to him, “Carve two tablets of stone like the first” (Ex. 34:1). You want new tablets, Moses? Chisel them yourself from stone: take boulders and carve Divine tablets out of the lifeless, unfeeling, cold rock. “Be ready by morning, and in the morning come up to Mount Sinai and present yourself there to Me, on the top of the mountain. No one else shall come up with you, and no one else shall be seen anywhere on the mountain” (Ex. 34:2–3). You have no following. You stand alone, solitary, betrayed by all. Go up to the mountain on your own, without thunder and lightning, without the blast of the horn, without G-d’s voice, and without six hundred thousand Jews; all of them are sleeping, steeped in nonsense and egotistical trifles. You, alone. Lonely, forsaken, broken. And you will wait for Me, not the other way around, as happened early in the morning on Shavuot.

And how does G-d appear to Moses then? Not openly as before: “And they saw the G-d of Israel: under His feet there was the likeness of a pavement of sapphire” (Ex. 24:10). No, Heaven forbid! Rather, “The L-rd came down in a cloud; He stood with him there” (Ex. 34:5) —enveloped in clouds, mysteries, paradoxes, contradictions, suffering, and enigmas. Almost no Divinity is visible, no Providence perceptible; everything is shrouded in shadow and darkness. It seems to Moses that blind fate governs the world and Jewish history. Only lifeless boulders and sand stretch out before him into infinity. Mount Sinai is rocky, hard, indifferent to Moses’ dreams and hopes. The Golden Calf and its attendant dancing circles dictatorially rule the world. Moses’ fate

is paradoxical, everything ridicules him, his task is laughable; he will never fulfill it. No Eternal Israel can emerge from the mixed multitude. Suffering, illogic, mysteriousness.

But just in that moment, when Moses finds himself “in a cleft of the rock” (Ex. 33:22), in a cold, unfeeling boulder, he sees G-d in a way he had never previously seen Him in the heavens and he hears the words of the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy: “The L-rd! the L-rd! a G-d compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin; and He remits” (Ex. 34:6–7). Out of paradox, a great vision must be born; from suffering and loneliness, bountiful kindness and faithfulness come into the world. Fate is transformed into destiny, self-determination, and free choice. And Moses, crouching under the cold boulder, becomes much greater, mightier, profounder, loftier, and more illustrious than when he was in the heavens. He becomes the master of all prophets and father of all sages, and his face begins to shine.

And where, morai ve-rabbotai, can we carve tablets out of cold mountain boulders, and where can we implement the vision of “The L-rd! the L-rd! a G-d compassionate and gracious” in contact with, and in opposition to, the rest of the world—if not in the Land of Israel? Not in Reform temples, not in Conservative synagogues, not even in Orthodox battei kenesiyyot can any of this be implemented. Certainly all modern Jews are paradoxical, both visà-vis Gentiles and vis-à-vis themselves. The Gentile does not comprehend their existence as Jews, and they themselves do not understand it either. But these Jews’ paradox is that of Job, a paradox of sharp, senseless, gratuitous pains that befall a man suddenly and break him. Their paradox is that of fate, of Greek tragedy, of Sophocles or Euripides—not that of Genesis, of the self-determination of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and the other prophets. They lack the mystery of Jewish existence as a form of opposition to

Building the Land of Israel is a task that is paradoxical in its entirety.

evil in the world. The paradox of the modern Jew is that of “And a man wrestled with him,” but without the vision of “until the break of dawn.”

Building the Land of Israel is a task that is paradoxical in its entirety. However, it is not fatally paradoxical but prophetically paradoxical, the paradox of free self-determination that is connected with suffering. Sometimes, in moments of gloom, in twilights of melancholy, when Satan, wrapped in shadow, asks me, “Will Jews succeed in their two gigantic undertakings, the building of the land in Palestine and the establishment of Torah everywhere, when there are so many Sanballats, destructive forces, and adversaries, both internal and external; when ignorance, dismal assimilation, and indifferent resignation consume the organism of the Jewish nation like a cancer?” —I get disoriented for a moment. But then I suddenly remember the paradoxical, illogical, irrational nature of our task and the suffering with which the implementation of all of these ideals is bound up. In front of my eyes appears the scene of Abraham returning from the Binding, behind him a paradoxical, ridiculous life that is simply full of contradictions, and learning that everything had come so easily to Nahor; the scene of Moses standing alone and seeing nothing but clouds and darkness and a tefillin knot (see Berakhot 7a). In those moments, I answer Satan firmly, “Yes, we will succeed, because the task is paradoxical, and paradox is the eternal rule of our history . . .”

The question of the Land of Israel reaches even deeper than we imagine. The whole future of the Torah depends on it. And I wish to stress again that I am definitely not one of the pessimists who foresee the collapse of American Jewry, and I am not asking for a million dollars in order to forestall the plague. “The Glory of Israel does not deceive or change His mind” (I Sam. 15:29). I believe in that. True, it is paradoxical, but because it is incomprehensible, I believe that it is impossible to predict. Both optimists and pessimists should be a bit more

conservative in their prophecies. There is, however, a danger to the Diaspora if there is no Jewish center at the same time. I refer to the dimensions of Judaism:

You know this well—a standard Euclidian space has three dimensions: length, width, and depth. [Hermann von] Helmholtz demonstrated that certain creatures in the zoological world cannot perceive a threedimensional space, and their entire universe consists either of lines or of planes. It is difficult for us to imagine such a perspective on the world, and yet it is that of insects. This same kind of differentiation in the perception of space can also be found in the spiritual sphere in general and in Judaism in particular. Judaism is not, in essence, a unidimensional line connecting man with G-d via a certain ritual behavior. It is also not a two-dimensional plane, with a beit midrash on one side and a cemetery on the other. Judaism is an all-encompassing system of cosmic proportions in three-dimensional (length, width, and depth) space — “deep, deep down; who can discover it?” (Eccl. 7:24). It embraces the whole of life, one’s entire existence. All modern problems must be refracted through the Jewish prism, and the

Jewish consciousness must adopt a position on them: sociological problems, political questions, culturalhistorical opinions, pedagogical methodologies, concepts like state and society, the relationship between the individual and the community, social ethics and justice, and population politics must be viewed in a Jewish light and understood from a Jewish perspective. The Torah’s “measure is longer than the earth and broader than the sea” (Job 11:9). But if a Torah scroll is missing entire parashiyyot, it is invalid.

Unfortunately, the way modern Judaism, even frum Judaism, is developing in the Diaspora, it is missing this three-dimensional perspective. It is limited to lines and planes. Judaism has become fossilized in the beit midrash, cemetery, and ceremonial forms. I am not saying that these things are unimportant, but they are very far removed from reflecting the beauty and splendor within Judaism. This is Judaism without gusto, profundity, and loftiness—flat, monotone, and gray. Is it any wonder that the younger generation does not want to hear from us, and it is difficult to entice its members to come to the synagogue? The young people going out into the street, full of sociopolitical problems and doubts, philosophical questions and queries, hear nothing from our modern rabbis and nonOrthodox clergymen but a couple hackneyed phrases and banal sayings. Why is that? Judaism, instead of being a worldview, has become a cult religion, that which Judaism despises to no end.

The difficult method of deepening and broadening the Jewish Weltanschauung consists not only of theoretical analyses and philosophical work—that, too, is a difficult task—but even more so of participating in such a life as compels Judaism to be reborn in its fullness and multidimensionality.

“The heaven is My throne and the earth is My footstool” (Isa. 66:1): one can only have a heaven, an ideology, a spiritual conception of the world, when there is terra firma beneath one’s feet. When concrete, ordinary life

The question of the Land of Israel reaches even deeper than we imagine. The whole future of the Torah depends on it.

demands it, requires depth, formulation and framing of new values, new ideals, new norms and worldviews; when life is multidimensional, colorful, diversified, and deep and, as the Roman poet Terence said, “I consider nothing human alien to me” —then will a multidimensional, all-embracing, heaven-storming Judaism emerge: “Riding through the heavens to help you, through the skies in His majesty” (Deut. 33:26). By contrast, when concrete life is robbed of many aspects of human creation, like a state, political activity, jurisprudence, the whole clash between capital and labor, a comprehensive education, and so on and so forth, then spiritual life perforce becomes crippled, shrinks, withers, and fades.

Is it any wonder, then, that Judaism has become a cult religion, a ritual, etc.? There is no need to formulate a Jewish political philosophy, labor ideology, social ethics, and so on, for, where those things are concerned, we live in a Gentile world. Here is where Ahad Ha’am erred regarding the primacy of a “spiritual center.” A spiritual center is undoubtedly important, a spiritual renaissance is certainly needed, but there can be no spiritual center without a physical center, there can be no soul without a body. For us, the halakhah follows the House of Hillel, which contends that “the earth was created first and heaven thereafter, as it says, ‘When the L-rd G-d made earth and heaven’ (Gen. 2:4)” (Hagigah12a). There can be no heaven without the earth.

In my opinion, it is here that the religious conception of the ideology of the return to Zion lies hidden. I do not refer simply to the mitzvah to settle the land or to other mitzvot connected with the land. Much more depends on this: the entire character of Judaism and its essence. Will Judaism remain a unidimensional line or a two-dimensional plane, or will it be transformed into an all-encompassing space—long, wide, and deep, with distant horizons and unending boundaries—in a word: a true worldview? I believe that, even with the best of intentions, Diaspora Jewry cannot accomplish this. Observance can exist but not a multidimensional Jewish society.

This is not simply some abstract reflection but an actual necessity if we expect that out of Gehenna will emerge a new Jewish persona with a new view of life, a new system of values, who will make the great paradox of Abraham’s covenantal vision, of Moses’

“The L-rd! the L-rd! a G-d compassionate and gracious,” a reality; who will bring us both into contact with world culture and into tension with it. Contact and participation, but also tension and opposition—this is the prophetic ideal of “And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn,” and this can only be fulfilled in the Land of Israel.

BACK IN PRINT

In today’s busy world, how does a woman juggle her roles and priorities while living a life rooted in deep faith in G-d?

Meet the great Jewish women highlighted by the Midrash on Eishes Chayil and learn how to apply their lessons to life. This empowering work shows how the Torah’s timeless wisdom can help each woman chart her own course.

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“The women of Tanach come alive in this sefer…[we] can glean many messages for our own lives.”

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“Strong in its Torah analysis…thoroughly grounded in the realities of life.”

RABBI AHRON SHRAGA LOPIANSKY

Shira Hochheimer has been educating woman and girls of all ages for over 15 years. She is passionate about empowering women to find more fulfillment in their lives by learning Torah. She is a presenter on the Torat Imecha Nach Yomi and Parsha podcasts.

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Memories of 1948 VOICES OF FAITH:

In celebration of Israel’s 75th anniversary, Jewish Action released Voices of Faith: Memories of 1948,” a short film series featuring the inspiring accounts of Rabbanit Miriam Hauer, Rabbanit Puah Shteiner and Rabbi Berel Wein. In the pages ahead, we present their compelling recollections of the founding of the Jewish State. Based upon hours of interviews, these firsthand testimonies capture the miraculous events of 1948 from a uniquely religious perspective.

Visit https://www.ou.org/israel75/ to watch their powerful stories come to life.

Rabbanit Miriam Hauer, Rabbanit Puah Shteiner, Rabbi Berel Wein

Living with Miracles: Recollections of Tel Aviv during Israel’s War of Independence

Rabbanit Miriam Hauer

Interview by Toby Klein Greenwald

Iwas born in a town called Beregszasz in Czechoslovakia, which then became part of Hungary. Now it is part of Ukraine. In 1943, in the middle of World War II, my parents, brother and sister and I fled to Eretz Yisrael. I was ten years old.

It was more than just difficult for our family to make aliyah—it was impossible. But baruch Hashem, the impossible was achieved. My father was a member of Mizrachi and was very active in it in Budapest. His parents had made aliyah some ten years before we did, but even though my father was an only child, my parents remained in Hungary because my mother didn’t want to leave her family. My grandfather had been an

important representative of a famous leather factory in the Hungarian city of Pecs. He and his partner opened a second store in another neighborhood and my father ran it.

Even with the war waging, my parents didn’t really talk about leaving Budapest. But once the Hungarians started drafting men in my father’s age group into forced labor, what they called munkatabor, my mother realized that she could no longer delay the departure.

When my grandparents saw what was happening in Europe, they worked hard to get my father an immigration certificate1 and a Turkish visa. My father got a passport to travel to Turkey under the pretense that he was doing business there. Since he was weak, he “had” to be accompanied by his wife, and since they had small children, they had to take us. We took a train through Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and Greece, all of which were under German occupation.

We finally arrived in Turkey, which was neutral. A few days later, we traveled through Aleppo and Lebanon to Haifa, where my father was arrested because the British didn’t understand how he had managed to travel through enemy countries. My father spent the first Shabbat in jail, but my cousin, who had connections, arranged for him to be released after Shabbat, and we then went to Tel Aviv where my grandparents lived.

Initially, my parents and brother stayed in a hotel, while my sister and I stayed with my grandparents. Their neighborhood was largely comprised of a mix of well-to-do people, some born in Eretz Yisrael, others from Poland, Hungary and Yemen.

I began school immediately. I spoke Hungarian and German, not Ivrit. At school I made good friends and loved to learn. We had excellent teachers, mostly Orthodox German Jews, who valued Torah and derech eretz. The majority of them had had a thorough Torah education as well as a solid university education.

Before the State was declared, many of my school peers were already involved either in the Haganah or in pre-Haganah, Gedudei Noar. In school, there was one day a week when we practiced Krav Makel and Krav Panim el Panim, Kapap, which means faceto-face combat [a martial art form developed by the Haganah fighters]. We

Rabbanit Miriam Hauer, a lifelong teacher of Tanach to people of all ages, lives in Jerusalem. Her son, Rabbi Moshe Hauer, is executive vice president of the Orthodox Union.

Toby Klein Greenwald, a regular contributor to Jewish Action, is a journalist, playwright, poet, teacher and the artistic director of a number of theater companies. She is the recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Aard from Atara-the Association for Torah and the Arts.

A permit to enter Palestine, issued during the British Mandate for a Polish immigrant. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans

had lessons on how to employ Kapap if somebody attacked us. We were taken to a location outside Tel Aviv, and we learned to climb a hill with the aid of a rope. I was miserable at this training exercise, but we had to learn how to defend ourselves.

On November 29, 1947, when the United Nations adopted the resolution that would divide Palestine into separate Jewish and Arab states, the trouble started.2 Our beautiful apartment was in a tall building surrounded by trees. Our windows faced the sea and Yafo, and Arabs would fire from mosques in Yafo toward Tel Aviv. We would collect twenty to thirty bullets, mainly at night, that came through my bedroom window. I couldn’t sleep in my bed; I had to sleep in the bathtub because it was metal and couldn’t be breached by bullets. In addition, unfortunately, the company that supplied electricity to the

whole city was nearby, and when the attacks began, that was the first site to be targeted.

Between November 29, 1947, and May 14, 1948, when Israel declared its independence, the Arabs took up arms and made life miserable for everyone, especially those living in the southern part of Tel Aviv. Many of them fled to Tel Aviv proper. One large family found shelter in the entrance hall of our building. I remember my mother cooking pots of potatoes and sending them down to feed the people seeking shelter there. It wasn’t easy.

Once the Declaration was made, things turned much worse.

It was a Friday afternoon when we heard that people were congregating at the Tel Aviv Museum on Sderot Rothschild, a block away from our apartment. We learned that Ben-Gurion had arrived to declare independence. [Though the location of the ceremony

was supposed to be a secret, crowds started gathering outside the building.] My father said to us, “Children, we are running down to Rothschild! Something very important is about to happen!”

We stood in front of the museum that Friday and heard the Declaration. The exhilaration we felt is indescribable. It was a tremendous, albeit very dangerous, step, but we were ready. We knew that as soon as independence was declared, seven nations would attack us. What would happen? We were 600,000 Jews. No airplanes. No tanks. Not even an army. Just some hidden weapons. And three groups who were ready to fight.

We returned home, very excited to welcome Shabbat as citizens of Medinat Yisrael! In the batei knesset we recited Hallel and the Tefillah L’shlom HaMedinah

Immediately, Egypt began bombing us. Over time, shelters, which weren’t very effective, were added, but initially we had no shelters—only some walls made of bricks at every house entrance.

But life had to go on. Schools remained open. I remember walking to school and knowing that every time we heard a boom, an enemy plane was flying overhead since Israel didn’t have an air force at the time. When we heard a boom, we would lie down in the street so the pilot couldn’t target us. Attending

Only a miracle can explain the fact that seven countries, armed to the teeth, tried to annihilate us Jews, who had no weapons to speak of, and they capitulated.”

Magen Dovid Adom Square in the center of Tel Aviv, circa 1947. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans

Rabbanit Miriam Hauer as a young woman. Courtesy of Rabbanit Hauer

school was an adventure. Once, the house across the street from the school was hit and all we could do was hide under our desks.

Slowly, Israel amassed an army. Hashem was on our side, as always. The armies of seven nations that attacked us did not accomplish their goal, and we have been growing stronger and stronger ever since, baruch Hashem

During the early years of the State, Israel began to absorb Jews—Holocaust survivors fleeing Europe, as well as Jews who were persecuted in Arab countries. It wasn’t easy to absorb so many thousands of people, but we did. [In Israel’s first few years of existence, it absorbed more than one million Jews.] My family took in both relatives and close acquaintances. Many times, we children slept on the carpets and gave our beds to olim chadashim. We did our best to make them feel at home.

That was how our independence began.

There are phenomena that are beyond nature. Only a miracle can explain the fact that seven countries, armed to the teeth, tried to annihilate us Jews, who had no weapons to speak of, and they capitulated.

I feel that we are living miracles. Halevai, if only everybody would have the awareness not to ruin what was built with such miracles, devotion, enthusiasm and love. We should never forget the blood of the precious Jews who sacrificed their lives so Am Yisrael could have a home—a home that was given to us by Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Oy lanu, woe unto us, if we do not do our best to preserve it and to build it.

Notes

1. With the publication of the 1939 White Paper, Jewish immigration was restricted to only 10,000 immigrants per year (the quota was later increased to 1,500 per month). The British government allocated immigration certificates according to the quota, which resulted in thousands attempting to arrive illegally, without certificates, to escape Nazi Europe.

2. On November 29, 1947, the Jewish State was born. On that day, the UN General Assembly voted on Resolution 181 (also known as the Partition Plan), adopting a plan to partition the British Mandate into two states, one Jewish, one Arab, in May 1948 when the British Mandate was scheduled to end.

A Refugee from the Old City

Before the siege of the Old City that preceded the War of Independence, I had a very happy childhood growing up in the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem’s Old City. We were a family of five kids, and we lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Batei Machseh neighborhood. We had a small kitchen, but there was no electricity and no running water in the houses. An Arab man would draw water from the well in the yard, and we would pay him for a can of water, which he would bring up to our apartment on the third floor.

My parents were deeply rooted in Judaism and tradition. My father, Rabbi Shlomo Min-Hahar, a”h, was a great talmid chacham; he was a teacher Friday night was a special experience. My mother lit candles, we dressed in Shabbat clothes, and my older sister and I, the two oldest girls in the family, would go with my father to pray at the Churva synagogue. What a synagogue . . . I didn’t know where to look first! The dome was painted sky blue, with golden stars. There was beautiful singing, the chandeliers sparkled, the floor was made of marble—it was like a palace.

We children didn’t play at home, because there was no room. We’d go down to play with friends of all ages in the Ashkenazi neighborhood in which we lived. There was also a Sephardi neighborhood, and some girls came from there to play with us. We played ball, jump rope and hide-and-seek. Those were happy times.

But British soldiers would harass us

Jews; they would search our homes for illegal weapons, and anyone who was connected to the Haganah, Etzel or Lehi was in danger of being captured. Every so often, we would hear someone say, “Oh no, our boys were caught with illegal weapons.”

When I walked to school, or went into the city with my parents, we would go through Jaffa Gate where the police station was located. It was called the Kishle; it had been built by the Turks, but the British turned it into a prison [to imprison Jewish resistance fighters]. I remember looking up at the wall with its barbed wire and shards of glass embedded in it and feeling scared. We really wanted a state to be established and for the British to leave.

My friends and I would pester the British soldiers and say, “This is not your home. This is not your land. Allow us to bring in new immigrants.” Even we children knew what was happening in Europe. We knew that there were ships of Jewish immigrants from Europe who wanted to go up to the Land of Israel, but the British did not allow it. We wanted them to leave, so we would sing out to them, “Free aliyah, a Jewish State! Boo to the White Paper! Long live the blue-and-white flag! We don’t want you here!”

Rabbanit Puah Shteiner is the author of Forever My Jerusalem: a personal account of the siege and surrender of Jerusalem’s Old City in 1948 (New York, 1987).

Rabbanit Puah Shteiner

Interview by Toby Klein Greenwald

The troubles started shortly after the UN resolution on the partition plan. Once the British began preparing to leave, the Arabs intensified their threats to the Jews. The resolution was passed on Saturday night, November 29, 1947. On December 2, my sister, who was eight, and I, who was six, were at school, and we were called into the teachers’ room and told to go to our grandparents’ house after school instead of going home; our grandparents lived in Beit Yisrael, outside the Old City walls. The teachers didn’t explain why.

On the way there, we heard people saying that the Arabs had held a violent protest and had broken into the commercial center (where Mamilla is now). They looted the shops, injured Jews, and burned down the entire center.

We remained with our grandparents for four months. It was impossible to call home because there were no

telephones in private residences. But at the time, my father was teaching in a school outside the Old City walls. He came to visit us one day and brought us a change of clothes. After Pesach, we were brought home in a convoy that was bringing food and other necessities to the Old City residents, who had been under siege since December.

The siege lasted five-and-a-half months in total, until the fourth of Iyar, when the British left the Old City. On the fifth of Iyar, the establishment of the State of Israel was declared in Tel Aviv. And on Shabbat, May 15, the sixth of Iyar, the British left the country altogether.

My parents didn’t hear about the declaration of the State, because Arab gangs had sabotaged the power station that supplied electricity to Jerusalem, and at that time, radio ran on electricity. But there were fighters

who heard over their radios that the State had been proclaimed, and they informed us.

That Shabbat, it was quiet. But on Sunday morning, the Old City was hit by heavy fire, at first from the Arabs in the Arab market. After a few days, the Jordanian Arab Legion, an organized army, arrived and occupied the Old City. There was intense shooting and, since we lived on the third floor and were worried about shelling, my parents took blankets and some food and we went downstairs to our neighbor’s onebedroom apartment. We all sat on a blanket in the corner.

My grandmother came to stay with us too. She would recite sefer Tehillim and we would join her. We were young girls so we played too, but we heard the gunfire. It was deathly frightening because it was so close; the Jewish Quarter was very small.

Armed British soldiers patrol the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem during the British Mandate in 1938. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Matson Eric

The Arab Legion attacking the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem in May of 1948.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

We had so few fighters—members of the Haganah, the Irgun, and a few fighters from Lehi. We had 150 fighters protecting the Old City. Our weapons were stashed underground because the British would arrest anyone who carried any kind of ammunition. We knew we were in a rough situation. At the time, there were about 2,000 Jews in the Old City and 32,000 Arabs around us. Seven Arab countries invaded Israel with their armies, tanks and artillery; we relied on help only from Heaven.

My grandmother encouraged us, and my father kept saying, “This is the suffering before the arrival of Mashiach; now Mashiach will come.”

We hoped and prayed—but those were a difficult two weeks of daily bombings, shelling and cannons, and hearing that people were injured or killed. Young men and women sacrificed their lives. There are no words to describe it.

At one point, we heard screams. There were crowds of people outside, but we were afraid to go out and find out what was happening. Then several

women barged in. I particularly remember some young women with babies in their arms, hysterical, unable to tell us what happened; they were screaming and crying along with their babies. Other people came in and yelled at us, “What are you sitting around for? There are Arabs out there with knives. Run for your lives!”

Arab gangs had broken through and destroyed the barrier the British had set up in the streets that connected the Jewish Quarter to the Arab market. A mob of frenzied Arabs in a murderous rage, like the wicked Haman in his time, sought to destroy, kill and annihilate, to massacre the Jews. My father was with us then. He led us outside to a quiet corner and said: “Girls, we don’t know what’s going to happen, but we must be prepared for any disaster that may come, G-d forbid. I want you to recall well what I’m telling you now. When you grow up, remember that your father wanted you to marry a talmid chacham.”

That was the most important thing to him. It was his testament to us. We had already been crying, but once our father

finished speaking, we cried even harder. Suddenly a Haganah fighter came and said, “Quiet! Everyone go home. We managed to push the rioters back to the Arab market.”

Not a single Jew had been hurt by the mob. G-d had performed a miracle for us. But after several days of massive shelling, in which people were killed and injured, the Old City surrendered. At first, on the day the surrender was announced, I was happy. “Now there won’t be any more shooting,” I thought. “We won’t die here, we’ll survive.” But then I went out and saw that people had their heads down. Our Old City had fallen into the hands of the Arabs. We would no longer have access to this holy, precious place.

I was seven years old when we were expelled from the Old City. We were despondent, and as we evacuated the area, it was extremely frightening.

My father wasn’t with us at the time. The surrender agreement with the Jews of the Old City, signed by the commander of the Jordanian Legion, stipulated that the fighters would be taken prisoner. So all the men reported

Like my fellow Jews, I was certain the Jewish people would be able to return to the Old City one day . . . I never dreamed that I would merit to see the Kotel again in my lifetime.

Ruins of the Churva synagogue in the Old City of Jerusalem destroyed by the Arabs. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Milner Moshe

to the square to determine who was a fighter and who wasn’t. I thought my father would come back soon. But they took all 350 men away from the Old City and brought them as prisoners to Transjordan.

Leaving the walls of the Old City was very traumatic. We were led through Rechov HaYehudim, and all we saw was destruction. We walked across rocks and glass of destroyed homes and stores. Jordanian and Iraqi soldiers were in the few remaining Jewish stores. Next to the market, the Legion soldiers stood guarding us from the Shabaab gang members who were shouting, “Attack them! Attack them!”

It was terrifying. (The Legion soldiers protected us because that’s what the surrender agreement stipulated.) We walked between several fires; the Arabs had set fire to much of the Old City.

It was Friday evening when we reached Mount Zion. Military jeeps were waiting down the mountain. I was told to get into the jeep even though it was Shabbat, because it was pikuach nefesh. I was a little girl, and I felt my heart breaking. It was Shabbat!

They took us out through the Zion Gate and led us—mothers, grandmothers, elderly people and children—to Katamon, which had been captured during the War of Independence. We moved into the empty houses.

Ultimately, the War of Independence ended in a great victory for us. But our Old City was in the hands of the Jordanians. We were to be cut off for nineteen years.

For those long years, when we didn’t have access to the Old City, Jews from all corners of the city would go pray every Shabbat at the tomb of King David on Mount Zion, instead of at the Wall. Like my fellow Jews, I was certain the Jewish people would be able to return to the Old City one day. I would think to myself: When is the End of Days? Maybe my great-grandchildren will get to see it. I never dreamed that I would merit to see the Kotel again in my lifetime.

In 1967, the Six-Day War broke out. It was beyond belief. Hakadosh Baruch

Hu…He is the One Who plans all. And He brought us back.

Returning to the Old City for the first time in nearly two decades, I entered through the Jaffa Gate with my husband. On the way, I sang: “Shir Hama’alot b’shuv Hashem et shiyvat Tzion hayinu k’cholmim—A Song of Ascents; when G-d brings about the return to Zion, we shall be like dreamers.”

It was simply a dream. We could go inside the walls! We passed by the Kishle prison where the British had imprisoned our boys, and now the Israeli police were there instead of the British. What a miracle!

We continued on past the Zion Gate, and my husband said, “Wait a moment, you need to recite a blessing.

‘Blessed are You L-rd, our G-d, King of the Universe, Who has performed a miracle for me in this place.’” I had left through here—it was a miracle that we had made it out alive—and now I had merited to return.

I started to run. I wanted to see my childhood home. And then I thought to myself, How heroic my mother had been! How did she manage with five young children during such a difficult and terrible time, while my father was imprisoned for nine months?

Once, I asked her: “Ima, how did you hold on?”

“Puah,” she said, “you forget that those were great days, historic days. After two thousand years, our country was being founded. It was after the Holocaust. We were ready for anything, any sacrifice.”

My mother instilled faith in us constantly, as did my father and the teachers in the school we attended. The feeling in the atmosphere around us was that things would turn out alright. We were ready for the State to be established. And we were willing to sacrifice and to do whatever it took.

Worshippers at the Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem, circa 1910. Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Matson Eric

American Orthodoxy’s Response to the Establishment of the Jewish State

Rabbi Berel Wein

Interview by Toby Klein Greenwald

During the Second World War, American Jewry, at least the Jews in Chicago where I lived, knew that the situation in Europe was bad, but I don’t think any of us knew how bad it was. The Jewish community back then had no real political power and not much wealth. There was a general malaise. American Orthodox Jews felt there was little they could do.

On top of that, the religious structure of the American Jewish community was very weak. The younger generation of Jews in America was basically non-observant. The majority of American Jews had inherited their family traditions, but were not Jewishly educated or observant.

In 1950, Look, a popular magazine in those days, dedicated an issue to the topic of 300 years of Jews in America, 1650-1950. In the article, the author stated that the Conservative movement would become mainstream Judaism— the Orthodox would disappear completely and the Reform would assimilate.

There were dozens of boys on my block on the West Side of Chicago, all of them Jewish. We all went to public school. I was the only one of the group who was shomer Shabbos. Once I got

older, I decided to go to law school even though I had always wanted to be a rabbi; there were no positions in the Orthodox rabbinate.

Soon after World War II, refugees started to drift in. Some of the refugees, especially the rabbinic refugees, were people of immense strength and vision who said, “We’re going to build [Torah Judaism] all over again. We’re not satisfied with [American Jews saying], ‘This is America and this is how we’re going to do it.’” It was unacceptable to them. These were the teachers I had in Beis HaMidrash LaTorah, the Hebrew Theological College in Chicago. They were all European rabbis and great talmidei chachamim, tremendous people, all of whom had had very difficult lives.

It was an all-Yiddish-speaking yeshivah. It was not so much that these rabbanim communicated to us the knowledge of Torah as much as the geshmak of Torah—how pleasant, how wonderful Torah is. The message they conveyed to us was how fortunate we were to be able to be in a place where we could study Torah. How fortunate we were that we could perform mitzvos. They never spoke about what happened to them. They always spoke about what was going to be, and what we were supposed to be, and that it was our task to rebuild the Jewish people. Over time, dozens and dozens of Jewish leaders came from the yeshivah and, in fact, even entire communities in Israel. (The aliyah rate from Chicago was enormous.)

But what really inspired us was the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. The birth of Israel was so unlikely, so unnatural. The years preceding it were so devastating: the British blockade, the Holocaust, the thousands of refugees, the internal strife. But G-d has His ways—which is basically the story of the Jewish people.

I remember the day the State of Israel was declared; it was on a Friday afternoon. I walked to shul with my father, of blessed memory, who was not an especially outwardly emotional person; he had the stoicism of the

Rabbi Berel Wein, founder and director of the Destiny Foundation, is a renowned author, lecturer and historian.

Front page of the Chicago Daily News reporting the establishment of the State of Israel.

Photo: John Frost Newspapers/Alamy Stock Photo

Lithuanian Jews. But as we walked to shul, I saw that he was weeping. It made an enormous impression upon me.

That Sunday night, the Zionist organization in Chicago sponsored a rally on behalf of the State of Israel at Chicago Stadium, where the basketball team played. There were about 20,000 Jews inside the stadium, and another 40,000 to 50,000 Jews in the parking lot. Golda Meir was the guest of honor; she was in America raising funds for purchasing arms on the open market in Europe since the American government wouldn’t sell arms to Israel.

The program began with the raising of the Israeli flag to the stadium rafters. When that happened, 2,000 years of

exile poured out of us. It was a sea of tears. Had I been running the program, I would have said, “That’s it. End it now. Better you’re not going to get!” Indeed, the rest of the program was anticlimactic.

All my teachers from the yeshivah were in attendance, though none of them were Zionists. That made a tremendous impression upon us.

When Ben-Gurion came to Chicago to sell Israel bonds in the early 1950s, there was a meeting at a big hotel. We went out of curiosity—we couldn’t afford to buy a bond, but we wanted to see what Ben-Gurion looked like. Our rebbi, who was not a Zionist, was also there. The next day, during the

shiur, he asked, “What did you see last night?” He would always ask certain kinds of questions to give us a different perspective. “I saw 500 people and somebody speaking” wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“What I saw was that the children of Abraham stood in line to give away money,” he said. “That’s what I saw.” That was the attitude of the time: we must support the Jewish State. The truth is that many Jews felt that Israel wasn’t going to make it. They saw the country’s Communist-Socialist patchwork economy, which has never worked and never will, as doomed to failure. Moreover, Israel was taking in a million refugees and fighting a perpetual war

I remember the day the State of Israel was declared: it was on a Friday afternoon. I walked to shul with my father . . . as we walked . . . I saw that he was weeping.

Jerusalemites celebrate the United Nation’s decision on the partition of Palestine riding on top of armored police car.

Courtesy of the Israel Government Press Office/Pinn Hans

with the Arabs. At the same time, the Soviet Union was saying, “we’re going to destroy you,” and the Western world was apathetic. There were great people, both in the US and in Israel, who said the State wouldn’t last fifteen years. But as I said, G-d has His ways.

Concurrent with the creation of the State of Israel, in America there developed a much more learned, successful and influential Orthodox Jewish community than anyone ever imagined. I believe that without the State of Israel, Lakewood wouldn’t exist in America. Satmar wouldn’t exist in America. There’d be neither the OU nor YU. The State of Israel provided an unexpected, miraculous platform upon which the Jewish people could build themselves. So even though politically, and almost as a matter of doctrine, there are sects of Orthodoxy who say they’re opposed to the State of Israel, in reality they are dependent upon it.

Jewish youth across the board spend a year in Israel post high school. Where do American Jews go for vacation? Where do we go to visit? The lynchpin for the revival of Torah Jewry in the Diaspora is the State of Israel.

There are electric moments in life. The Six-Day War was one of them. At the time, I was in Miami Beach, where I was the rav of a shul. I was driving

and had the radio on, and suddenly a news bulletin announced that the Old City of Jerusalem had fallen into Israeli hands. Then they played Colonel Motta Gur declaring “HaKotel b’yadeinu! Har Habayit b’yadeinu! The Kotel is in our hands! The Har Habayit is in our hands!” and Rabbi Shlomo Goren blowing the shofar. I stopped the car, and got out in the middle of the street, and so did everyone else because Miami Beach was 99 percent Jewish. Complete strangers got out of their cars and hugged each other.

Today, when I reflect upon Israel, I think of the following story: When my oldest grandson was turning three, I wanted to buy him a toy that was educational and innovative and would last for years. After quite a bit of research, I purchased the toy and presented it to him. He spent the next hour playing with the box.

That’s us. We are playing with the box. We don’t appreciate the gift that’s in it. How did Israel end up with seven million Jews? It’s the largest number of Jews ever in the Land of Israel. Look at Yerushalayim today. People complain about the traffic. My father told me that when he was in Palestine in 1925, studying at Mercaz HaRav, there was one traffic light at Rechov Jaffa and King George. How did it happen that a bunch of shoemakers learned to fly an F-16?!

Maybe we play with the box because

if we played with the toy, it would overwhelm us. So we allow ourselves to be distracted by all the static—nonsense and politics. Meanwhile, the country is being built, and the Jewish world is being rebuilt. Mi milel l’Avraham heinikah banim Sarah? [Who would have said to Avraham that Sarah would nurse children?] (Bereishis 21: 7) Who would have ever imagined such a thing?

If you live long enough, you see a lot of things. That’s why the Gemara says, “Im chochmah ein kan, ziknah yeish kan, If there isn’t wisdom, there’s age, i.e., life experience.” I’m fortunate to have witnessed many things no one thought could ever happen.

In Israel today, everything is on the ascent. I’m optimistic about us. I think the future of the Jewish people lies in the State of Israel. The exile is the tail of the dog, not the head. I think the Orthodox will get stronger, even though we face enormous challenges. Although truthfully it’s hard to predict anything about the Jewish people. If history has taught us anything, it’s taught us that our future is always unpredictable. But I think we’re too far along the way for it not to continue. Therefore, I believe even greater things are in store for us.

A BRIDGE of PAPER

By Charlotte Friedland

Motole, Lithuania, 1916:

His blue eyes ablaze with jubilation, six-year-old Shlomo Leib bursts into the kitchen of his family’s cottage. “Bubbie! Do you know what rebbi told us in cheder today?”

Charlotte Friedland served as director of publications/editor of Jewish Action at the OU and later was a book editor at Mesorah Publications Ltd. Currently, she is a freelance editor, writer and editorial consultant. When she and her husband moved to Jerusalem in August 2021, they were delighted that one of their sons and his family made aliyah the same week.

Bubbie Devorah is mixing a pot of soup on the stove and murmurs over her shoulder, “I have no idea.”

“He said that Mashiach will come and there will be bridges for all the Yidden to go to Eretz Yisrael! We will dance to Yerushalayim on a bridge from Motole!”

Bubbie turns around and mirrors her grandson’s gaze with wonderment and exultation in her eyes. “Tell me, how? How could it be?”

“It will be a nes, an amazing nes! Bubbie, listen—the bridge will be made of paper, but it will be so strong we’ll be able to dance on it all the way!”

“A bridge of paper! What splendid news! In that case, Shlomeleh, we must practice singing and dancing right now, so we’ll be ready when Mashiach comes!” Bubbie hitches up her long skirt a bit, takes his hands in hers,

hums a lively niggun, and together they ecstatically whirl round and round the tiny kitchen.

Shlomo Leib was my father, and whenever he told that story, a smile would play over his lips and his moist eyes would widen. He could still feel the warmth of Bubbie Devorah’s hands and hear the swish of her skirt as it brushed the floor.

By 1926, Bubbie Devorah was in her grave in Motole, and the family had moved on to New York. Sixteenyear-old Shlomo Leib concluded that someday the paper bridge would have to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

The dream of going to Eretz Yisrael never left him, and he lovingly passed that goal to his children. It was built into our lives quietly, subtly, but it was always there. He was always thankful

Shlomo Leib, the author’s father, standing outside the family cottage in Motole, Lithuania, as the family is about to embark on the journey to America in 1926. His younger sister and parents are seen here as well.

that he was able to visit Israel once in his lifetime to see the many places he knew so well from Tanach.

For more than fifty years, my husband and I nurtured the concept of aliyah, but it was little more than a vague objective. Life happened children, careers, grandchildren. We were caught up in the swirl of daily living, time and again sweeping all practical thought of aliyah out of our minds.

Of course, with modern air travel we visited Israel numerous times over the years. We were riveted to the Old City of Yerushalayim and were enthralled by Tzefat; we scaled the Golan hillsides, bathed in the healing waters of Teveria, absorbed the pulsating air of the Galil. And each time, we turned our footsteps back, back to our family, back to familiar comforts. We had many reasons, good reasons, why aliyah was not for us.

It wasn’t time.

Until it happened. And as much as we’d like to think of it as a sober, careful decision, we have yet to understand the astounding forces that gathered, propelling us to our homeland.

Looking back, there were moments that foreshadowed our rather sudden decision. For several years, we had become pleasantly accustomed to

spending the Yamim Noraim with our daughter’s family in Yerushalayim.

Yet there was one Rosh Hashanah in particular, three years ago, pre-Covid, when we had just returned from a trip to Shilo and Eretz Binyamin. There, we relived the story of Chana, walked where Jews had trekked to the Mishkan, noted the lush vineyards, tasted their magnificent wines and surveyed in astonishment row after row of olive orchards and date palms.

When I heard the first haftarah of Rosh Hashanah about Chana and Elkanah going up to Shilo, I recalled dreamily, “now I know exactly how it looked.” In my mind, I was back in Shilo, inspired by Chana’s poignant prayer.

The haftarah of the second day of Rosh

Hashanah includes the stirring words of the prophet Yirmiyahu: “ . . . You will yet plant vineyards in the mountains of the Shomron . . . I will bring them from the ends of the earth . . . The One Who scattered Israel, He shall gather them in . . . and they shall stream to Hashem’s goodness . . . the grain, . . . the wine and the oil . . . Neum Hashem.”

I was transfixed and read the prophecy over and over. We had just witnessed those very words of the prophet coming to life now, right now! Still reeling, I met my husband outside the shul afterward. “The haftarah,” he said in a choked voice. “Did you notice the haftarah?”

Notice it? “Something moved . . . inside me,” I stammered. “Somehow,

And each time, we turned our footsteps back, back to our family, back to familiar comforts. We had many reasons, good reasons, why aliyah was not for us.

Author Charlotte Friedland soon after she made aliyah.

someday, we must be part of this.”

But we had family, obligations, reasons. Shilo, Binyamin and Yerushalayim moved automatically, discreetly, to the back burner.

Soon after, the One Who scattered Israel hurled Covid into our lives. We were locked into our homes, locked out of our shuls, locked out of Israel. Those children and grandchildren that I thought I could never leave receded from our daily lives as one yom tov after another passed without them crossing our threshold. No more siddur parties, no school plays, no birthday balloons. Nothing, only the barren prospect of aging in solitude.

One day, as I was having a barely audible phone “conversation” with a very young grandchild, I thought bitterly, “For this, I may as well be in Israel. We could talk on the phone from there.” Once again, something inside me moved imperceptibly.

I always wondered how some people in Europe had the foresight, the courage and the individuality to leave before the onset of the Holocaust. They were not prophets, yet they sensed something I always believed was beyond my ken. At heart, I’m a trusting, cowardly person. I am the type that stays put, hoping for better times.

I had long speculated that G-d would nudge American Jews toward our final destiny by having us legislated out of America, extending the sinister process emerging in some “progressive” European countries. First, the government would tamper with the curricula in our yeshivot, then brit milah and shechitah would be declared inhumane and illegal. Undoubtedly, given that untenable scenario, we would take the hint and move on.

But a far grimmer prospect suddenly arose.

I don’t have the wisdom to interpret current events on a cosmic level, yet I was glued to my computer screen on January 6, watching in horror as shrieking, ugly mobs broke into the Capitol building, shattering glass and shattering America’s soul. My sense of history translated into certainty that when there is political upheaval, economic upheaval, or social upheaval

and here we had all three it is never good for the Jews. The consequences of extremism may not play out today. Maybe not tomorrow. But the day after. And something told me it’s time to leave.

Not to run, not to panic, but to calmly wash our hands of this galut and go home. That night, I sent an email to my children: “Maybe we should think about aliyah sooner rather than later.” With strange foreboding, I had been laying the groundwork for this message for a few years. So, they weren’t surprised a week later when I informed them (by telephone, individually) that Abba and I had signed up with Nefesh B’Nefesh: we’re doing it!

From then on, an unseen Hand swept us along. Our house sold in a jiffy; our car changed hands overnight. We gave away books, appliances, furniture; we rid ourselves of everything that would not fit into the apartment in Yerushalayim we had found, a space one third the size of our beautiful, newly-renovated house. Everything that remained was packed up and sealed in a container to brave the oceans, bound for the port of Ashdod.

And there was paperwork, so much paperwork. We discovered that the government of Israel will happily embrace us as citizens, but first we must provide our birth certificates, our marriage certificate, our ancestry, a letter from our rabbi attesting that we are Jewish, health questionnaires, driver’s licenses and records, employment status. We learned the meaning of the French word apostille, (an official seal affirming that a document is authentic), and what it takes to get it on our important papers. Not to mention passports and letters of intention, confirming where we will be living and the identities of our relatives in Israel.

While we waited for approval, my mind made a 180-degree turn. It became clear to me that living in the US as a remnant of Jewish wanderings in galut—through Spain, Poland, Lithuania, and New York we were part of history, the past. In Israel, we will be part of the future, a speck in the massive kibbutz galuyot that is palpably, persistently, taking place. With our aliyah, there will be two more neshamot in our homeland waiting for the Geulah Sheleimah

Then came the tickets, the precious

tickets to take us home. And when our Nefesh B’Nefesh cohort landed in Tel Aviv, we were herded into a special room where we signed yet more papers and were given our temporary citizenship documents.

Yerushalayim:

The container has arrived. We’re unpacking. I take my vintage family photos and tenderly arrange them in our living room. My eyes meet the somber gaze of my grandfathers and grandmothers from Galicia and Lita, my husband’s Brooklyn-born mother, his father and great-grandfather from Warsaw. And here is a fuzzy photo of that cottage in Motole, with my father and his family about to embark on their journey to America.

Our own odyssey has taken not only the recent months of preparation; it took a hundred years. But the “amazing nes” is underway. Recalling the reams of documents and forms, records and affidavits we had conscientiously prepared and submitted, I reflect wryly that we Jews are streaming back to our homeland—truly over a bridge of paper! And though I can’t see them, I have no doubt that somewhere in Gan Eden Shlomo Leib and Bubbie Devorah are dancing.

THE ALLURE

of OWNERSHIP AND ILLUSION

from the pursuit of wealth or even financial security. Another person’s nonconsensual use of even an inexpensive possession of ours offends us, and we feel physically infringed upon by trespass on our property, even when no harm is caused. Whether wealthy or in want, we are protective of our possessions, and we feel personally violated if they are stolen or deliberately damaged.

By Moishe Bane

We are pleased to introduce “On My Mind,” a new column by Jewish Action Contributing Editor Moishe Bane.

It is hard to overstate the attachment most people have to their belongings. One of the first words uttered by a toddler, often in spirited fashion, is “mine.” Many of us recall our first bicycle and, more likely, our first car. Those of us so privileged surely remember the purchase of our home. Our quest for and preoccupation with ownership is quite distinct

Most often we think of ownership in reference to stuff, whether as small as a book or a wristwatch or as expansive as a tract of land or a substantial commercial enterprise. But there are additional spheres of ownership. For example, people occasionally claim, or at least imply, ownership of a not-forprofit institution or communal office. Sometimes this assertion is made by virtue of having been a founder or funder, and other times simply by virtue of incumbency.

Ownership may also extend to relationships, usually with unfortunate results. The suggestion that someone “owns” a politician is quite familiar, and, notwithstanding the Emancipation Proclamation, many a callous proprietor treats employees as owned chattel. Misperceptions of ownership are most tragic, however, when they arise in the words and actions of a parent or spouse. In all these examples, individuals are confusing the responsibility to influence with an entitlement to control.

Perhaps a most illustrative example of the subtle line between possession and ownership is how we view our own body. A fierce contention of ownership is that “it is my body, and I can do with it as I like.” This assertion underlies much public policy debate, including heated discourse regarding abortion and euthanasia.

Perhaps we revere ownership because its permanence imparts a sense of security. Or perhaps ownership augments our sense of personal substance and significance as we incorporate that which we own into an expansion of self.

But are these perceptions genuine or illusory? After all, the permanence of ownership is as fleeting as our mortality. And bolstering our selfesteem through acquisitions seems rather lame, if not pitiful. We may feel bigger when we see ourselves as owning things or institutions or people. But in moments of honest introspection, we are forced to concede that embracing such ownership merely obscures, rather than bolsters, our true measure.

The illusion of ownership is further illustrated by the vulnerability of all categories of ownership to the power of the state. Zoning laws restrict how our homes or real property can be built or developed, and the laws of eminent domain and taxes allow any of our possessions to be taken by the state—legally.

Even our bodies are subject to state control. State dominance of our

Moishe Bane, president emeritus of the OU, serves as a contributing editor of Jewish Action.

physical selves may arise in the context of public health and safety concerns, the Covid contagion being just one recent example. And an even more dramatic reflection of state dominance is its ability to conscript individuals into the armed forces and then deploy them to the front lines of heated combat.

And yet, ownership feels real and is often consequential. At a minimum, it provides provisional control of both access and decision-making, and certain types of ownership may effectively garner others’ deference and admiration—or at least their attention.

Thus, it is worthwhile to consider whether Torah values would have us cherish and guard our belongings or understand clinging to ownership as mere human foible. Are we entitled to indulge in the immense enjoyment our possessions can generate, or are we bound to moderation and constraint even after being strikingly philanthropic?

Rather than focus on what is permissible, perhaps we need to identify our paradigm. Should we vigorously accumulate and then preserve our possessions, or should we instead idealize and aspire to the practice of the exalted tzaddikim in the legends of our youth who selflessly and indiscriminately gifted away all that passed through their hands?

THE TORAH’S RESPECT FOR OWNED PROPERTY

Traditionally a youngster’s study of the Talmud begins with the second chapter of tractate Bava Metzia. The text addresses someone who discovers a seemingly abandoned object on public grounds, and explores when that person

is permitted to take the object and when efforts must be made to identify its owner.

Due to the educational contours of the text’s Talmudic debate, it is pedagogically appropriate for these passages of Bava Metzia to be chosen as introductory study material. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, zt”l, however, reportedly explained the choice differently.

Rav Moshe observed that a novice first encountering Talmudic texts will necessarily be compelled to review and repeatedly vocalize the passages. Tradition seeks to take advantage of this inevitable student repetition to inculcate an ethical principle into the moral fabric of a young mind. By beginning the Talmudic journey with the second chapter of Bava Metzia, the student will be repeating over and over the responsibility and respect one must have regarding others’ private property.

That Torah values advance a deep respect for private ownership is perhaps most expressly illustrated in the expansive focus that private property rights enjoy throughout the corpus of Jewish law. In halachah, ownership enjoys extraordinary prominence and deference.

DEROGATION OF OWNERSHIP

Notwithstanding the Torah’s express recognition of private ownership, the deference is far from absolute. The halachic obligations of giving bikkurim (first fruit), petter chamor (redemption of a firstborn donkey) and various terumos and ma’aseros (tithes) are examples of halachah reminding us that property ownership is conditional. The laws of shemittah (Sabbatical year) and yovel (Jubilee year) are even more so.

Most dramatically compromising the idea of absolute ownership, however, are the expansive halachic powers of eminent domain granted not only to a melech Yisrael (Jewish monarchy) but to beis din (rabbinical court). Hefker beis din hefker (“that which is declared by a court ownerless property is forthwith accounted ownerless property”) is a term familiar to even a relative newcomer to Talmudic and halachic studies.

In addition, we are not licensed to ignore the myriad ethical challenges introduced by private property disparities within society. Economists may assert that the deprivation suffered by the unfortunate is not linked to the abundance enjoyed by the prosperous. But contemporary social behavior has not fully shed parallels to the historical exploitation by landed gentry and industrialists of the serfs and the proletariat. Possessions and control continue to be used to evoke jealousy and impose intimidation. Empathy for those without tends to diminish with the accumulation of significant belongings. The pursuit and retention of wealth and property too often brings out the lesser angels within us.

This susceptibility to ugliness is manifest in commercial behavior that may be less than stellar, and in the emergence of unsightly character traits such as callousness and narcissism. These behavioral tendencies raise serious questions regarding the propriety of our embrace of ownership and whether or not holding assets should be a laudatory aspiration.

Another consideration is whether the accumulation of possessions necessarily distracts us from the pursuit of religious growth. Consequently, the derogation of belongings is a view and practice adopted by certain schools within the Torah community. This attitude is conveyed in an oft-repeated story regarding Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan, zt”l (1838-1933), the famed Chafetz Chaim, viewed by many as the leading saintly Torah giant of early twentiethcentury Jewry.

It is told that the Chafetz Chaim welcomed into his small and meager home a wealthy visitor from afar. The guest, upon observing the sparse

Rather than being owners, we are actually stewards, entrusted by Hashem with the transient role of using our assets as He would expect of us.

furnishings, asked the Chafetz Chaim why the house was bereft of furniture. In response the Chafetz Chaim asked the traveler why he himself was not accompanied by furniture, to which the guest answered that surely one does not bring furniture along on a journey. The Chafetz Chaim replied that he too is on a journey since the world in which we live is merely a way station to Olam Haba, the World to Come.

But other Torah lessons emphasize a different and more venerated outlook regarding possessions.

THE RIGHTEOUS VALUE THEIR POSSESSIONS ABOVE ALL ELSE

One of the most powerful Talmudic teachings regarding the value of personal belongings is conveyed in describing the actions of Yaakov Avinu immediately prior to his reencounter with his brother Eisav (Bereishis 32:25). The Talmud (Chullin 91a) teaches that Yaakov returned unaccompanied to his family’s earlier camping ground to retrieve small, apparently inexpensive vessels that had been forgetfully left behind.

The Talmud derives from Yaakov’s decision to undertake this arduous journey that the righteous care for their belongings more than for their physical bodies. The motivation for this heightened care, explains the Talmud, is “lefi she’ein poshtin yedeihen b’gezel, because they (the righteous) do not extend their hands to partake in stolen items.”

This teaching seems rather bizarre in two regards. First, how does a premium placed by tzaddikim, the righteous, on mere objects accord with our expectations of the pious? And even more obscure is the Talmud’s second point. What possibly could be the connection between thievery and this prioritization of personal belongings?

The Torah leader and scholar Rabbi Moshe Schreiber (1762-1839), famously known as the Chasam Sofer, explores these cryptic passages. His explanation resolves the two curiosities while also providing sagacious guidance regarding how to properly view our relationship with ownership.

Tzaddikim, explains the Chasam Sofer, appreciate that each personal possession is lovingly designed, crafted and bequeathed specifically to us by Hashem, as it were. But we receive each gift conditionally, with the expectation that we will use the possession for its rightful purpose. This profound appreciation compels two reactions. First, just as we cherish and safeguard a gift personally conceived and handcrafted for us by a beloved, we similarly treasure each of our belongings as a bespoke gift from Hashem. And second, we scrupulously avoid squandering or neglecting our possessions because to do so would be violative of the condition of their receipt. Being reckless or indulgent and failing to use our possessions appropriately would deem us to be guilty of having stolen from G-d.

The tzaddik’s appreciation of the preciousness of his possessions is thus interwoven with being meticulous in avoiding thievery, stealing from Hashem.

STEWARDSHIP RATHER THAN OWNERSHIP

The Chasam Sofer’s understanding of the Gemara’s explanation of Yaakov Avinu’s mindset resolves the tension between our appreciation for ownership and our simultaneous concern that an emphasis on ownership feels self-centered and superficial. Rather than being owners, we are actually stewards, entrusted by Hashem with the transient role of using our assets as He would expect of us. And the same is true of our personal relationships and our communal roles.

We respect, cherish and feel deeply

attached to our possessions, but whether thoughtfully or instinctually, this feeling of connection reflects the appreciation that everything we have is a gift from Hashem. We may mistake our deep attachments as a profound sense of ownership. But in the heart of every G-d-fearing Jew is the understanding that belongings are precious and treasured because they are gifts from Above.

Perhaps the ethic that novice students are hopefully inculcating when endlessly repeating the lessons of the second chapter of Bava Metzia is the appreciation that possessions are to be protected and secured, and not be misplaced or lost. After all, if someone fails to embrace being a steward of Hashem’s gifts, the holy stewardship of these gifts may well be lost.

In the heart of every G-d fearing Jew is the understanding that belongings are precious and treasured because they are gifts from Above.

What’s So Great about Being a Jewish Educator?

By Rabbi Rick Schindelheim

Irecently came across a number of articles in which Jewish educators lamented the challenges of being a teacher in a Modern Orthodox day school. While I was saddened by the pain the authors expressed, I was disappointed by their failure to articulate any of the factors that can make Jewish education a wonderful profession. In order to bring some balance to this communal conversation, I would like to outline some of those aspects. I hope other educators who share my positive experiences and feelings will add their own perspectives to this vital conversation.

Figuring Out the Finances

The most obvious challenge cited by teachers in Jewish day schools is the limited compensation. Truthfully, teacher salaries vary widely from school to school and even among teachers within the same school without any transparency, and I can’t argue that this is not a serious challenge. Nevertheless, I would like to note a few relevant details. First, teachers generally go into work around 180 to 190 days a year. As my graduate school supervising professor liked to say, “The three best things about this field are June, July and August.” When a young person is considering Jewish education as a potential career, it would be misleading to compare educator salaries with those of professionals who work 240 days a year or more. Of course, any teacher who takes his or her job seriously will spend plenty of time working

on school-related responsibilities at night as well as during weekends and summers. However, the fact remains that after subtracting 104 days for weekends—most professionals have those days off anyway—we teachers still have around 70 days a year on which we officially do not have work. That time allows for a lot of flexibility, which can be used for more family time (unavailable in many other professions), learning and personal development, or supplemental employment. Indeed, teachers interested in increasing their income often find additional employment opportunities during the summer.

It is somewhat problematic to simultaneously bemoan the oft-cited “tuition crisis” on the one hand, and on the other hand place the onus of raising teacher salaries solely on the schools. The numbers don’t seem to work out. (Of course, schools should certainly provide teachers with the best financial package they can afford.) When we think creatively, we can identify numerous reasonable opportunities interested teachers can pursue to earn some extra income, depending on their skill set, proclivities and the time they’re willing and able to invest. These need not be permanent commitments either; a

All photos are Courtesy of Yeshiva University Archives

Rabbi Rick Schindelheim dances with his students from Fuchs Mizrachi School during a Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration.

Photo: Cindy Ashwal

teacher who has fewer responsibilities at school may take on an additional role in shul or tutor until advancement opportunities at school present themselves. In any event, many of us are familiar with doctors and lawyers who work excessive hours in order to maintain their professional standing and earn the incomes they do. If we need to hustle a little to support our families while also having the privilege to teach Torah to Jewish children, is that not worth it?

Secondly, those of us who teach in Jewish schools never have to worry about the consequences of missing work for chagim, nor do we need to explain why we can’t come in or even answer an email for yet another day in September or October. Most of us typically have off on erev yom tov as well, avoiding the stress experienced by our less fortunate friends who need to be in the hospital or the office while we are able to prepare for the holiday. This also means that for those of us with children, we are not scrambling to figure out childcare on the days when our children have off but most other parents have to be at work. But it’s not only Shabbat and yom tov. Most teachers (unless they live very far from their school) are able to be home for dinner, bath time and bedtime almost every night of the week (if not every night). Again, the same cannot be said for many of our friends in fields such as law, medicine and corporate accounting.

Thirdly, those of us who have children and receive a tuition discount (I understand that the percentages vary based on school policy and other factors), experience a significant financial benefit. Teachers and potential teachers should keep in mind that this can easily amount to far more than the income of an additional part-time job, and since a

“professional discount” is not income, it is not taxed (so a penny saved is more than a penny earned). For some teachers, this benefit entirely closes the gap between their current income and the hypothetical income they would be earning had they gone to law school like their parents wanted them to (except if they went to law school, they’d have a lot more debt).

Social at Work

Most of us take for granted that which we have grown accustomed to. I, too, often take for granted the incredible social situation I enjoy at work. In my experience, teachers in general, Jewish or not, are kind and pleasant to be around. Working with such colleagues tends to create a warm and positive work environment, where people care for each other and enjoy spending time together. Of course, this varies to some degree depending on where one works, but I know many Jewish educators in various cities and I’d be more than happy to count myself as one of their colleagues. At the same time, I know plenty of non-educators who experience their work as a lonely place. They are cordial with their colleagues and may even be fortunate enough to work in a place with strong camaraderie. However, few people they work with really understand them. Surely, that may create opportunities for a certain kind of kiddush Hashem, but in many ways, we are seen as exotic and strange. It’s isolating to feel like the “other” every day. For me, most of my closest friends are the people I work with at school.

Beyond that, though, when you work in a day school or a yeshivah high school, you are surrounded by people who have chosen, as you have, to dedicate their careers (and likely more than that) to the Torah education and spiritual growth of Jewish children. What are the conversations that take place daily in the teachers room and when we “talk shop”? Yes, we’re people—we talk about what we’re making for Shabbat, what happened in last night’s game and what we’re doing for winter break (yeah, teachers get

winter break). But we’re also engaged in a constant dialogue about the most effective ways to inspire Jewish children, which of our holy texts will be the most meaningful to teach, and how we can strike the proper balance between Torah learning skills and Torah literacy. That’s our water cooler talk. That’s our “scuttlebutt.” “Ashreinu mah tov chelkeinu! How good is our portion! How pleasant is our lot!” Choose another profession. I doubt you’ll have a chance to fulfill “nasiach b’chukecha. . . uvahem nehegeh yomam valaylah, we will discuss Your statutes. . . on them we meditate day and night.”

Obviously, a major part of a teacher’s social experience at school is defined by his or her relationships and interactions with students. For me, that means spending a lot of time with adolescents. Exchanges with teenagers can be exhausting, frustrating and even aggravating. But interacting with students is also rewarding, exhilarating and often hilarious.

There are heartwarming experiences that only fellow teachers can identify with. There is that moment when a guest speaker mentions something you taught and fifteen heads turn and look around the room to give you that nod and smile that says, “You taught us this! I guess it is a real thing!” There is the one-of-a-kind feeling when a student who struggled academically or behaviorally is wearing his cap and gown and holding his diploma with a gigantic smile on his face. Whether or not he says anything (and they often do), you and your colleagues know what you did to get him there and can say with a full heart and eyes tearing up, “Baruch shehecheyanu v’kiymanu v’higianu lazman hazeh! Blessed are You Who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.”

You don’t get that in many other careers. Every few months, I get a WhatsApp from alumni, now in yeshivah, seminary or college. They ask for recommendations of sefarim to learn, for citations I taught them, for answers to important questions, and on rare occasions—sometimes when I’ve needed it most—they express hakarat hatov, gratitude, for the time

Rabbi Rick Schindelheim has taught Gemara, Tanach and Jewish history at Fuchs Mizrachi School in Cleveland since 2013. He works at Camp Stone in the summers.

and Torah I shared with them over the years. Do these experiences make it worth putting up with the challenges? For many of us, they certainly do.

Finding Fulfillment

If you are an individual who, like most Jewish educators I know, places particular value on personal growth and finding meaning and purpose in your life, I challenge you to find a career better suited to meet those needs than chinuch. I had a rebbi in yeshivah who used to say, “If you want to learn, don’t go into chinuch.” In my experience, there is some truth to that. Some of the people I know who spend the most time learning and learn on the highest level are in professions other than chinuch. They are free to spend non-working hours learning whatever they choose and are not burdened with preparing content and lessons that are geared toward children. However, in my estimation, even those of us whose learning is primarily focused on preparing for our classes are actually spending more time learning than most “balabatim.” I can’t speak for others, but I can say with confidence that I learn significantly more Torah because I am in chinuch than I would if I had chosen another career path. Along these lines, like some other professionals, I, too, think about work when I should be having kavanah during davening. However, for us mechanchim, thinking about work doesn’t mean analyzing stock prices or rehearsing closing arguments. It means trying to figure out how to get

kids to internalize Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik’s approach to the spiritual message of the Akeidah or how to help them understand a Tosafot in Arvei Pesachim. As far as yetzer haras go, I’ll take mine.

However, my own personal learning is almost beside the point. A school or yeshivah is a place where personal growth is in the very air we breathe. It is the purpose of its existence. Of course, I experience self-doubt. I question whether I am really making a difference, whether my work is having an impact. But never do I wonder if what I’m trying to accomplish makes a difference. As mechanchim we are attempting to strengthen the future of Am Yisrael. We are working to secure the mesorah of Torat Moshe Our mandate is to ignite Jewish souls. Personally, I’d rather struggle my way up this hill than sit comfortably atop another. There is dignity in many professions, and certainly in providing for one’s family. But I have never awoken in the morning and asked myself: “Does it matter if I show up to school today?” It matters every day. And that is both an awesome responsibility and an incredible privilege. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks used to say, “If you want to save the Jewish future, you have to build Jewish day schools.” What can be more personally fulfilling than a career dedicated to building those schools and bringing them to life every day?

It is true that making a difference in our students’ lives does result in some inconveniences—as does everything that is truly worthwhile. Over the years—and in recent months—I have

heard and read Jewish educators decry the notion that we should be expected to make certain sacrifices in the name of our mission. Of course, communities and administrators should never take advantage of their teachers or burden them with unreasonable expectations, and they should show them proper respect and appreciation. However, if participating in a tisch, oneg or Shabbaton or seeing your students in shul feels so onerous to you, then you are probably in the wrong profession. There is nothing wrong with not enjoying these things—some of my best friends chose not to be in chinuch. But to those who have raised these objections, I implore you—please don’t complain as if your hands were forced and you were bamboozled into spending time with your students outside of school. From my perspective, going to a tisch or learning with students on Shabbat afternoon—even without being paid specifically for it—is indeed extra work and is not necessarily how I would always choose to spend my time. But that is what I signed up for. Expecting this from teachers (within reason, of course) is not taking advantage, and we should not pretend that it is.

I have argued that choosing a career in Jewish education has several benefits both materially and spiritually, and that being a Jewish educator does not demand as much sacrifice as one may have assumed. However, I won’t pretend that you will make as much money or receive as much appreciation or honor as you could in any other field. It’s true: being a mechanech does involve some sacrifice. In summarizing the essential message of the Akeidah, Rabbi Soloveitchik wrote, “Of course, the idea of sacrifice is a cornerstone of Judaism . . . G-d demands that man bring the supreme sacrifice, but the fashion in which the challenge is met is for man to determine . . . G-d wills man to choose the altar and the sacrifice.” As Jews, avoiding sacrifice is not an option. I’ll take an altar that involves teaching Torah and investing in the Jewish future every day. What altar do you choose?

If we need to hustle a little to support our families while also having the privilege to teach Torah to Jewish children, is that not worth it?

Unscrambling the Kashrut of Eggs

With the drastic fluctuation of egg prices over the past year, it’s time for an overview of a basic but important staple.

Are eggs other than chicken eggs

kosher?

Eggs are kosher if laid by kosher fowl, and non-kosher if laid by nonkosher fowl. The Shulchan Aruch (YD 86:1) writes that there is no definitive way to determine that an egg is kosher simply by checking its appearance, but there are signs that indicate that an egg is non-kosher. An egg is non-kosher if it is completely round (like a ball) or completely oval (like a football), or if the yolk is not surrounded by the albumen (egg white). A kosher egg will be round like a ball on one side and elongated like an oval on the other, and the albumen will surround the yolk. However, even if an egg has both signs, it is still possible that the egg is not kosher and was laid by a non-kosher bird.

When purchasing eggs from the supermarket, one can be confident that they are chicken eggs because that is what is typically produced in a commercial henhouse. Some people are allergic to chicken eggs and eat duck eggs instead. Duck eggs require kosher certification since one cannot tell from looking at an egg what kind of duck egg it is. Even if the package indicates a particular species of duck, Ashkenazim need to be cautious and only buy duck eggs with kosher certification since Ashkenazic custom is to only eat birds for which they have a direct tradition (mesorah) that they are kosher.

What about buying eggs from a local farmer? Need one be concerned that they may have been laid by a non-kosher bird or from a bird that has no clear mesorah of kashrut?

American Egg Board

Q Q Q

When purchasing from a farmer, the Shulchan Aruch (YD 86:2) states that the custom is to purchase eggs without questioning the source or inspecting the shape of the eggs, since typically only kosher varieties of birds are raised for their eggs. The Rema, however, adds that this applies only to eggs that have the appearance of regular chicken eggs; if they look different than regular eggs, they should not be bought, even if the farmer insists they are chicken eggs. In recent years, guinea fowl eggs are sometimes sold on roadside stands. Most Ashkenazim do not accept this bird as kosher.

I cracked an egg and saw two yolks inside. May I eat the egg? What if there is no yolk?

A A A A

Rabbi Chezkiah da Silva (1656–1698) addresses both questions in his monumental work Pri Chadash (86:5). Regarding an egg with two yolks, he writes that this phenomenon is common with kosher eggs and does not present a kashrut problem. With respect to an egg with no yolk, he cites a dispute between rabbinic authorities. One authority (the Maharikash) maintains that an egg with no yolk is not kosher, because the Gemara (Chullin 64a) states that one of the signs of a kosher egg is a yolk surrounded by albumen. If an egg has no yolk, one must therefore assume that it is not kosher. On the other hand, the other authority (the Sha’ar

Hashamayim) quotes from a treatise written by Aristotle that when a hen stops laying eggs, the last egg will have no yolk. Therefore, the absence of a yolk is not a kashrut concern. Technically, the Pri Chadash sides with the latter authority, but nonetheless recommends being strict unless the yolk-less egg was already mixed with other eggs.

What do I do if I find a blood spot in an egg I purchased from the supermarket?

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, zt”l (Iggerot Moshe, YD I:36) maintains that the common custom is to throw away the entire egg if one finds a blood spot in a store-bought egg. Rav Moshe’s opinion, which is the accepted and normative position, is to check every egg for blood spots. The OU requires OU-certified restaurants and caterers to check every egg. However, if an egg with a blood spot was already mixed with other eggs or food and finding the particular egg would be difficult, then one can simply scoop out the blood spot. If the blood spot itself is already mixed in and cannot be removed, it is batel (nullified) and the food may be eaten. This only applies to unfertilized eggs; most commerically sold eggs are unfertilized.

On average, each laying hen produces 296 eggs per year.

United Egg Producers

The US has more than 300 million egg-laying chickens.

How does a kashrut agency certify liquid eggs? Is there a mashgiach checking every egg to make sure there are no blood spots?

AThere is no mashgiach checking eggs at factories; however, companies do have candling systems in place for their own purposes to ensure that eggs with blood spots or other abnormalities are not sold to the public. Most eggs with blood spots are detected by electronic sensors during washing and packaging and never reach the market.

Tosafot (Chullin 64a) write that one may purchase bread kneaded with eggs from a non-Jewish baker who is known to use kosher ingredients. We are not concerned that the eggs may have had blood spots, because holchin achar harov, we follow the majority, and the presence of blood spots in eggs is an uncommon occurrence. Tosafot prove this point from the fact that we eat hard-boiled eggs without checking them for blood spots. Thus, it would seem that when it’s not feasible to check eggs, we rely on the majority.

The Aruch Hashulchan (YD 86:21) asks: if we follow the majority when eating hard-boiled eggs, why is it common practice to check cracked eggs for blood spots? He answers that “following the majority” is not an absolute verification, but only an assumption. We do not rely on assumptions when it is possible to perform an independent verification. However, if one cannot check (such as hard-boiled eggs, or eggs used by a non-Jewish baker), or if one forgot to check, we presume the eggs are kosher.

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If a blood spot is noticed after one has cracked several eggs into a container, the eggs without the spots may be used after the egg with the blood spot is removed.

If the eggs are beaten prior to removal of the spot: If the spot is visible within the mixture, it should be removed. If not, there is no problem with going ahead and cooking the batch.

If the blood spot is noticed after cooking, the individual egg with the spot should not be eaten. However, there is no problem with the utensils or with other eggs cooked in the pan.

When separating egg whites and yolks, if one notices a spot after the white was separated and mixed with others, there is no problem with the whites. The yolk with the spot, however, should be discarded.

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Checking for Blood Spots

The accepted practice is to check each individual egg prior to use.

l If checking is overly difficult, such as, for example, on a camping trip at night where there is no available good light, one may eat eggs without checking.

l There is no problem with eating eggs cooked in the shell (boiled or roasted), even though these cannot be checked.

If one is in doubt whether the eggs have been checked, it is permitted to eat the food.

Secondly, when eggs are cracked deliberately in a factory-type setting, there is no reason to suspect that the eggs are coming from an unreliable source.

The OU position is that liquid eggs require kosher certification.

Why do some have the custom to boil at least three eggs in a pot at one time?

Are fertilized eggs kosher?

A fertilized egg is kosher provided it does not have a blood spot. While in the past, a blood spot might have signified the beginning of an early-stage chicken embryo (safek sheretz ha’of), today’s commercial methods virtually ensure that this is not the case.

In order for an egg to be fertilized, a rooster must be present. The chicken eggs that we purchase at the supermarket are typically from hens that are raised not for incubation but for human consumption, without a rooster being present. Thus, blood spots in commercially sold eggs are not a sign of a fertilized egg. Instead, they are caused by the rupture of a blood vessel while the egg is forming.

Damaged eggs can come from a kosher chicken or from a chicken that is a treifah (mortally wounded), whch may not be eaten. The Gemara (Chullin 64a) states that one may not sell a whole egg from a treif bird to a non-Jew, because he might sell it to an unsuspecting Jew who will not realize it is non-kosher. What can a Jewish farmer do with eggs that are treif? Must all such eggs be discarded even if the farmer will suffer financial hardship?

There is a simple solution to this problem, based on a long-established custom that Jews do not purchase beaten or cracked eggs from a non-Jew (see Shach, YD 66:9). A Jewish chicken farmer may therefore crack non-kosher eggs and sell them to a non-Jew since there is no concern that a Jew will purchase the cracked eggs.

Q Q

I’ve seen fertilized eggs sold in stores. How can that be?

While most commercially sold eggs are not fertilized, some fertilized eggs are on the market and tend to be labeled as such. They may be found in supermarkets, and some are even certified by kosher agencies. As mentioned above, a fertilized egg is kosher provided it does not have a blood spot. In fact, the Gemara (Beitzah 7a) writes that fertilized eggs are superior in quality to regular eggs. If a fertilized egg has developed to the point that a blood spot apears on the yolk, the entire egg becomes forbidden and should be discarded. The OU does not certify fertilized chicken eggs.

A A A

A local farmer sells his damaged (cracked) eggs in the form of liquid egg at a reduced price. Am I permitted to buy the liquid eggs from him?

Despite the fact that almost all broken eggs sold by farmers cracked on their own and are not treif, the custom is that a Jew may not purchase cracked eggs so as not to undermine the system that allows selling treif cracked eggs to nonJews. The Aruch Hashulchan (YD 86:23) writes that this custom of not buying beaten eggs is universal and applies even in communities where Jewish chicken farmers discard non-kosher eggs, since there is always a remote possibility that someone cracked the egg because it was not kosher.

Why are we then allowed to purchase liquid eggs at a supermarket?

Firstly, we are permitted to do so because one should purchase liquid eggs with a hechsher, kosher certification, which ensures that the eggs are from a reliable source.

Q Q Q

When boiling eggs in the shell, there is no way to tell ahead of time if the eggs contain a blood spot. Therefore, there is a custom to boil a minimum of three eggs together so that even if one of the eggs contains a blood spot, that egg would be batel or nullified among the other eggs and the pot would not require kashering.

I have noticed that brown eggs often have brown spots. Are these the same as blood spots?

A A

Approximately 20 percent of brown eggs have protein spots, which are found only in the albumen and give the shell its brown color. These brown spots are not a problem; blood spots in this article refer to spots that are blood red. Some of the pigment excreted by the chicken to color the shell leaks into the egg white and collects in clumps. These colored clumps are at times quite large and have a reddish-brown color. In other cases, the protein spots are just specks that look as if someone sprinkled red glitter into the egg. Rabbi Yisroel Belsky, zt”l, former OU Kosher halachic consultant, ruled that protein spots do not pose a halachic problem.

This article has been adapted from OU Kosher’s Halacha Yomis, a halachah email sent out each weekday and dedicated in the memory of Rabbi Yisroel Belsky, zt”l, former OU Kosher halachic consultant. Special thanks to OU Kosher rabbinic coordinators Rabbi Chaim Loike, Rabbi Eli Gersten and Rabbi Yitzchok Gutterman for their assistance in preparing this article.

Readers can send kashrut questions to be featured in this column to ja@ou.org. Sign up to receive Halacha Yomis in your inbox here: https://oukosher.org/halacha-yomis-email/.

THE CHEF’S TABLE

COOL IT

By Naomi Ross

By the time summer rolls around (and I’m grumpy from the heat), I have two goals surrounding any food I prepare: either my kitchen has to stay cool or the food I eat has to cool me off. If it doesn’t fit those criteria . . . well, there is a good chance I just won’t be making it. The heat of summer brings a natural craving for something light and refreshing enough to satisfy and revitalize. My go-to is to let the season’s beautiful summer produce lead the way in my cooking. Farmers’ markets, farm stands and “u-pick” fruit picking are all local sources for ripe seasonal fruit and vegetables. At the height of the season, you need not fuss that much to achieve excellent results.

Despite the changing seasons, we often fail to adapt in the kitchen as it is hard to get creative or change up our ingrained menu routines. Stuck in a rut (or a hot kitchen)? Chilled soups (no cooking required!) are welcome appetizers on hot Shabbat days (or nights). Frozen treats like sorbet or ices require no oven and can be made days or even a week in advance. Consider taking your cooking outside and prepare your entrée on the grill – grilled meat salads are filling but don’t make you feel lethargic. Follow these great summer recipes to help keep your cool!

Minted Cantaloupe

Yields 6-8 servings

Soup

Melons are a great mild base for fruit soup. I enjoy using honeydew for a slightly different but equally delicious flavor.

1 ripe cantaloupe, peeled, seeded and cut into chunks

½ cup orange juice

¼ cup fresh lemon juice (from about 2 lemons)

¼ cup fresh lime juice (from about 2 limes)

20 fresh mint leaves (from about 3-4 sprigs)

2-3 teaspoons chopped fresh ginger root

2-3 tablespoons honey, or more to taste

¼ cup white wine

Yogurt or heavy cream, for drizzling (optional)

Combine all ingredients (except yogurt) in a blender or food processor. Process until smooth. Chill well and serve garnished with a swirl of yogurt or cream (optional) and fresh mint.

Chef’s Note: Stir before serving. The ingredients separate a bit as they sit.

Grilled Steak and Portobello Salad with Honey-Pesto Dressing

Yields 6 servings

Marinating the steak and mushrooms in a simple balsamic vinaigrette infuses tons of flavor.

Grilled Steak Salad

1⁄3 cup balsamic vinegar

½ teaspoon thyme

½ teaspoon kosher salt

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

½ cup olive oil

1 pound New York strip or fillet

split steak

2-3 large portobello mushrooms (caps only)

1 (8-ounce) package baby arugula, for plating

1 pint grape tomatoes, for garnish

Honey-Pesto Dressing

1 bunch fresh basil (2 cups packed leaves)

1⁄3 cup pine nuts, toasted

3 tablespoons honey

Juice of ½ a lemon

2 garlic cloves, peeled

½ cup olive oil

½ teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Whisk balsamic vinegar, thyme, kosher salt and pepper together in a large mixing bowl until blended. Drizzle olive oil into mixture while continuously whisking until all of the olive oil is incorporated. Add steak and mushrooms to the mixture, and turn to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. Marinate for at least 2 hours.

Preheat grill to high. Carefully oil grates to prevent sticking (an oil-soaked paper towel with tongs works great for this job). Remove steak and mushrooms from the marinade (discarding marinade), and place on the grill directly over the heat. Grill steak on each side for about 5 minutes and the mushrooms on each side for about 3-4 minutes, turning once. Transfer to a plate or cutting board; rest for 5-10 minutes before slicing.

While the meat rests, prepare the dressing. Place basil leaves, pine nuts,

Continued on page 89

Naomi Ross is a cooking instructor and food writer based in Woodmere, New York. She teaches classes throughout the country and writes articles connecting delicious cooking and Jewish inspiration. Her first cookbook, The Giving Table, was recently released.

Minted Cantaloupe Soup

Photos: Baila Gluck

Watermelon-Lime Sorbet

Watermelon-Lime Sorbet

Yields 1 quart

A perfectly refreshing end to any summer meal.

¾ cup sugar

½ cup water

5 cups seedless watermelon, chopped

1 tablespoon lime zest

1/3 cup fresh lime juice (from 2 limes)

Special equipment: Ice cream/sorbet maker

Place sugar and water into a small saucepan. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil, whisking until sugar is completely dissolved. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

Place watermelon, lime zest and lime juice in a food processor or blender. Process until mixture is completely smooth and blended. Add cooled sugar syrup and mix to blend. Chill for at least half an hour.

Process mixture in ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions for 20-25 minutes. Transfer finished sorbet to a tightly sealed storage container and freeze until serving time.

Chef’s Note: No ice cream maker? Use the same recipe to make great ices in popsicle molds.

Continued from page 86

honey, lemon juice and garlic in a food processor bowl. Pulse in food processor until ingredients are pulverized. Then, with the motor running, slowly drizzle olive oil in a continuous stream until emulsified. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Arrange arugula on a large serving platter in an even layer. Thinly slice steak against the grain and transfer to the center of the greens. Slice mushroom caps and arrange on either side of the steak. Garnish with grape tomatoes and dress with spoonfuls of Honey-Pesto dressing. Serve immediately.

Chef’s Notes:

Steak can be marinated a day ahead of grilling. Pesto can be made in advance, and keeps for weeks in the refrigerator. Perfect for dressing up salads or sandwiches anytime.

Mock-Crab & Peach Salad in Radicchio Cups

Yields 4-6 servings

A bold, no-cook salad that comes together quickly for a perfect cold appetizer or light lunch.

Salad

1 package frozen mock-crab, thawed and diced

2 peaches, diced

1 avocado, diced

1-2 scallions, sliced

Handful of mint, chopped

1 head radicchio, leaves separated

Toasted cashews, chopped, for garnish

Lime Dressing

½ teaspoon lime zest

¼ cup lime juice (from 2 limes)

¼ teaspoon cumin

1 tablespoon honey

¼ cup packed cilantro

½ jalapeno pepper (optional)

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/3 cup mayonnaise

½ teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Combine all dressing ingredients in food processor and process until completely blended and emulsified. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Combine mock-crab, peaches, avocado, scallions and mint in a large bowl. Toss with about half the dressing or more as needed to coat the salad (the remainder of the dressing can be used for another time).

Separate radicchio leaves to create cups. Fill radicchio cups with mock-crab salad and sprinkle with toasted cashews.

Mon-Thurs:

WHAT’S THE TRUTH ABOUT...

THE KOTEL BEING JUDAISM’S HOLIEST SITE?

By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

Hamikdash [of Herod] has not seen a splendid building in his life.”

FACT : The location of the Kodesh Hakodashim (the “Holy of Holies” section of the Beit Hamikdash) on the Temple Mount is Judaism’s holiest site. In recent centuries, when Jews were barred from the Temple Mount and the closest accessible site was a piece of the western retaining wall of the Temple Mount, that “Western Wall,” the “Kotel,” took on added significance and Jews prayed there. This, coupled with midrashic references about the unique status of a “western wall,” have bestowed a mystical aspect to the Kotel, which has since been hallowed by torrents of Jewish tears through history. This has led some people to mistakenly believe that the Kotel is Judaism’s holiest site.

Background:

The Kotel is by far the most visited “tourist site” in Israel. Jews and nonJews, religious and non-religious, Israelis and foreign tourists all make their way to the ancient stone wall to pour out their hearts, stuff prayers into its cracks, be awed by the sense of holiness and history, and rejoice at the throngs of worshippers.2

On the purely physical dimension, it is an engineering wonder of the ancient world. The wall is constructed of large limestone blocks with narrow borders around the edges and smooth and slightly raised bosses in the center. There is no mortar or cement, with the

stones simply stacked one row on top of the next, with each subsequent row slightly recessed from the one below it. The stones are massive, each about 15 feet deep and ranging in height from 3.6 to 4.3 feet. But in length they vary considerably, from two feet to an aweinspiring 44 feet. The original height of the Western Wall is estimated to have been about 200 feet; looking up today, one sees a height of about a third of that, 60 feet.

Herod the Great, a ruler of Judea during the late Second Temple period, was a megalomaniac known for his colossal building projects, including Herodian, Masada and the building of Me’arat Hamachpelah. What can no longer be seen is his total renovation of the second Beit Hamikdash, about which Chazal said (Sukkah 51b; Bava Batra 4a): “Whoever has not seen the Beit

As part of his reconstruction of the Beit Hamikdash, Herod (and his descendants) greatly expanded the surface area of the mountaintop by constructing four massive retaining walls, the “Kotel” being part of the western one, to support a large artificial platform. That wall, still standing today, is about 1,600 feet long. The area of wall at which people pray today is a small section, approximately 187 feet long, and consists of 45 layers of stone—17 subterranean and 28 above ground. Of these, about half are from the original Second Temple period, most of the rest are from various Muslim periods, and the very top row is an Israeli addition. At the time the western retaining wall was built, the area of today’s prayer plaza was a large street and market. For most of history, the prayer area was much smaller, with the current plaza constructed immediately following the miraculous liberation from Jordan of the eastern part of Jerusalem in the 1967 Six-Day War.

The Kotel plaza, in addition to serving as an open-air synagogue, is used for national and religious ceremonies, e.g., swearing in of IDF soldiers, mass recitations of Selichot/Tehillim, communal Birkat Kohanim and the Hakhel gathering (see Yabia Omer 10:YD:22).

Most of the rest of the Western Wall remains hidden behind buildings abutting the wall. However, there are two other exposed sections. To the south where the wall is exposed

MISCONCEPTION : The “Kotel”1—the Western or Wailing Wall—is Judaism’s holiest site.

Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky is a professor of neuroscience at Bar-Ilan University in Israel.

all the way to its southern corner is the amazing Davidson Center-The Jerusalem Archaeological Park. In the other direction is a small exposed area known as the Kotel HaKatan, the Small (Western) Wall. It is considered by many to be the point on the wall closest to the Kodesh Hakodashim, and although no Torah scrolls are housed at the site, it is also regularly used for prayer services.

The Kotel’s Special Status

Some of the earliest rabbinic sources that attribute a special status to the “Western Wall” are in the Midrash Rabbah Eichah Rabbah (1:31), in relating the story of the Churban Bayit Sheini by the Romans (cf. Gittin 55-58), adds that after conquering Jerusalem, Vespasian assigned to each of his four generals a different quarter of the city to destroy. The general who was supposed to destroy the western side did not do so, and when questioned by Vespasian, he explained that he left it as a witness to what a powerful city Vespasian had conquered. The Midrash explains that in Heaven it had been decreed that the Western Wall never be destroyed because the Shechinah was on the western side of the Temple, i.e., the Holy of Holies was in the western part of the Temple. Thus, this midrash attributes the significance of the Western Wall to its proximity to the source of holiness, a holiness that is permanent despite the destruction of the Temple (Rambam, Hilchot Beit Habechirah 6:1415). Bamidbar Rabbah (11:2) similarly says that because of its proximity to the holiest location, the Western Wall will never be destroyed but adds a crucial phrase—it calls it the “Western Wall ‘of the Temple.’” Neither of those midrashim assert that the Shechinah remained connected to the Western Wall itself. Actually, the next two sections

in Eichah Rabbah (1:32-33) assert that when the Jewish children were exiled, the Shechinah went with them.3 Shemot Rabbah (2:2) debates whether the Shechinah ascended to Heaven, remained on the Temple Mount, or, as Rav Acha asserts based on Shir Hashirim (2:9), remained, and will remain, on the Western Wall.4 On that verse in Shir Hashirim, Shir Hashirim Rabbah (2:22) does not mention the Shechinah, but says that G-d promised the Western Wall of the Temple that it would never be destroyed.

Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik observes (The L-rd is Righteous in All His Ways [Toras HoRav Foundation, 2006], pp. 204-7) that in the alphabetical acrostic kinah “Zekhor Asher Asah” by Elazar HaKalir (pp. 228-232, ArtScroll Kinot [1991]), the line for tzadi states, “al tzad ma’aravi,” on the western side, referencing the midrash in Eichah Rabbah about the Western Wall. The Rav highlights the fact that the Shechinah never left the western side of the Temple Mount, whose holiness is permanent,5 and thus the Western Wall was indestructible. The Rav also notes that neither the Bavli nor the Yerushalmi mention the Kotel, and thus he views this kinah6 as one of the earliest references to it. Furthermore, he says, Rishonim did not pay much attention to the Kotel. For example, the Rav points out, the famous letter written by the Rambam when he arrived in Jerusalem mentions where he prayed and makes no mention of the Western Wall.

The midrashim that include the phrase “of the Temple” present a challenge. If the midrash was being precise, that implies that the Kotel is not the retaining wall of the Herodian platform, but a wall of the Temple itself, in which case the area immediately to its west

(today’s plaza) is part of the Temple Mount and it thus might be problematic to approach the wall or to touch it since everyone today is tamei, ritually impure.7 Rabbi Avraham Danzig (d. 1820; author of Chayei Adam) opined as such.8 Nonetheless, the custom has always been to approach the Kotel, and thus most authorities assume that the midrash was not being precise and that the western wall of which it spoke is in fact the wall standing today, which all archaeological evidence indicates is a retaining wall.9 Even if it is “merely” the retaining wall of the Har Habayit, Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch (Mo’adim U’zmanim 5:350), in a minority opinion, rules that nonetheless the Kotel has the sanctity of the Temple Mount and therefore one should refrain from putting his fingers into the cracks or benefiting from the wall, such as by leaning on it.

Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, OC 2:113) says that because Jews have been davening there for generations, there must be a reliable tradition that it is permissible to approach it and that it is not a wall of the Temple itself, and thus there is no room for disagreement; he expresses amazement about any such discussion. So too, Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef (Yabia Omer 5:YD:27), after surveying the earlier literature, concludes that there is no question whatsoever that the Kotel is the retaining wall and not the wall of the azarah of the Beit Hamikdash. He says that the data bears this out,10 as does the custom, and anyone who acts stringently and does not approach the Kotel because of this doubt is acting inexplicably.

Over the years, various legends about the Kotel have developed. Rabbi Yoel Sirkis (d. 1640; Poland; Bach, OC 561) records that he saw in “Likutim” (presumably the not-yet-organized

The Midrash explains that in Heaven it had been decreed that the Western Wall never be destroyed because the Shechinah was on the western side of the Temple...

writings of the Arizal, d. 1572) that “when one sees the Sha’arei Rachamim (Gates of Mercy) that are in the Western Wall, the wall that King David built,”11 he recites certain verses.12 He commented that there is no such Talmudic statement for this and he does not know the source.

Jerusalem-born Rabbi Moshe Hagiz (d. 1750) describes (Eileh Mas’ei, pp. 12b-14a in 1884 ed.; pp. 18-20 in 1959 ed.) the “rediscovery” of the Kotel following the 1516 Ottoman conquest of Jerusalem. He says that he heard from historians that when the Ottomans captured Jerusalem, Kaiser Selim, father of the more famous Suleiman the Magnificent,13 saw a very old non-Jewish woman dumping a basket of garbage close to his palace on top of a huge garbage heap. In anger, the kaiser summoned her to inquire where she was from and why she dumped the garbage close to his palace. She replied that she was a descendant of the Romans, lived a two-day journey from the palace, and was quite tired from hauling the trash so far, but that she was perpetuating what the Romans had been doing for generations. Their rationale, she explained, was that when the Romans were unable to completely destroy the Jewish Temple, they instituted that its site should forever be buried in garbage so that it should be forgotten, and this was the location. The kaiser investigated and confirmed that this was the local tradition. Choosing to be kind to the Jews, he scattered coins daily in this massive trash heap to encourage the poor to come and dig for the coins, thus removing the trash. After thirty days, with 10,000 people digging, the Western Wall and its foundations were exposed for all to see. There is a popular legend, found in many twentieth-century works, which, alas, has no source. It asserts that when the first Beit Hamikdash was built, King Solomon divided the work among different sectors of the population and the building of the Western Wall was tasked to the poor, who, unable to hire others, built it with the sweat of their own brow. Because of this, at the time of the destruction, Divine Providence protected that wall.

The Western Wall was not always the primary prayer and tourist site that it is today, and in fact, the southern and eastern walls of the Temple Mount are also still standing.14 For many centuries, first the southern wall and then the eastern, which is near both the Shaarei Rachamim and the Mount of Olives, were popular locations to pray. With the completion of the still-extant Jerusalem Old City wall in 1540, that all changed. With Jews still barred from ascending the Temple Mount by the ruling Muslims, they searched for a close location, and since the Western Wall was now located safely inside these new walls, it became the preferred site.

The twelfth-century explorer Benjamin of Tudela wrote: “. . . in front of this place is the Western Wall, which is one of the walls of the Holy of Holies. This is called the Gate of Mercy, and thither come all the Jews to pray before the wall of the court of the Temple [sic!].”15 But another twelfth-century traveler, Rabbi Petachia of Ratisbon, in describing the Mount of Olives, says: “prayers are offered up there” (Adler, p. 90), and makes no mention of the Western Wall. Similarly, the thirteenth-century Rabbi Jacob, the messenger of Rabbi Yechiel of Paris, describes ascending the Mount of Olives and writes: “Thence we see the Temple Mount and all the buildings upon it, and we pray in the direction of the Temple” (ibid., p. 117), with again no mention of the Western Wall. The fourteenth-century Ishtori Haparchi (d. 1355) in his Kaftor vaFerach makes no mention of the Western Wall (Meir Ben-Dov, The Western Wall, 1986, p. 68). In 1488, Rabbi Obadiah Da Bertinoro mentions that the Western Wall is partially standing (Adler, p. 240), but mentions nothing about praying there. He mentions regular prayers in a synagogue (ibid., pp. 2356) and in the Kidron Valley (near the eastern wall) on fast days (ibid., p. 241). However, Isaac ben Joseph Ibn Chelo in 1334 does say the Jews prayed at the Western Wall (ibid., p. 131).

Despite the clear fact that the Kotel is not Judaism’s holiest site, this obvious and potentially damaging error is oft-repeated by politicians

as well as in articles and books. In Judaism, Hashem is accessible in all places and at all times. Regarding this, King David declared (Psalms 24:1) “The earth is the L-rd’s, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” Nonetheless, there is a concept of kedushah, holiness, which defines certain places, times or people as separated and distinct due to restrictions, obligations or privileges that apply to them. It helps to give people islands of time and space in which to focus attention on the spiritual.

The ten levels of holy space are listed in the Mishnah (Keilim 1:6-9). The first step up, according to the Mishnah, is that the Land of Israel is holier than all other lands. This is followed by walled cities, the city of Jerusalem and the Har Habayit (Temple Mount). Within the Har Habayit, there are concentric regions of holiness, culminating in the Kodesh Hakodashim, which was centered around the Even Shetiyah, the Foundation Stone, which, according to most opinions, is today the stone in the center of the Dome of the Rock.

While the Kotel is today an important prayer site, it is “merely” the outer wall of the Temple Mount. Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda Waldenberg (d. 2006) quotes the Radvaz that if someone was on the Temple Mount (on the other side of the Kotel), he should pray in the direction of where the Temple had stood, with his back to the Kotel (Tzitz Eliezer 10:1:80). The site of the Temple is more holy than the Kotel.

The answer to the question “what is Judaism’s holiest site?” is clear. Jews have always directed prayers toward the Temple Mount, and the Temple Mount is the only area on Earth where, according to Jewish law, certain sections may not be entered in a state of ritual impurity.16 Probably one of the greatest mistakes in modern Jewish history was Moshe Dayan’s handing control of our holiest site to the Waqf as the Six-Day War was still raging and the world was still in shock and awe. This is not to minimize the significance of the Wailing Wall, which has been saturated by Jewish tears and yearning for centuries and thereby consecrated as

a special place of connection to Hashem and to Jewish community and history. Today, the Jewish tears of yearning comingle with tears of joy. Rabbi Ovadia Hedaya (d. 1969; Yaskil Avdi 8:43:2) was asked in 1967 whether one should say the Shehecheyanu blessing upon seeing the Kotel for the first time, reflecting the overwhelming sense of jubilation that its liberation by an independent Jewish country elicited among the Jewish people, who for 1,900 years had only been tearing keriyah at the walls of the Temple Mount. Rabbi Hayim David HaLevi (d. 1998; Aseh Lecha Rav 1:14, 1976) says that in the past, a Jew coming to the “Kotel Hademaot” (“the Wailing Wall”) would instinctively burst into tears over the exile of the Shechinah. But, he says, today, even on Tishah B’Av, one cannot help but feel some internal joy in seeing the masses of Jews filling the “courtyard of the Temple,” and it seems that the Shechinah is also no longer “cloaked in mourning” as it confronts a unified Jerusalem under Jewish sovereignty. May this sense of the “Shechinah no longer [being] cloaked in mourning” be the first step, seventy-five years after the founding of the Jewish State, and fifty-six years after the liberation of the Temple Mount, toward the complete Redemption and the building of the Beit Hamikdash.

Notes

1. The Hebrew word for wall, “kotel,” is almost never used in the Bible, but is more common in rabbinic Hebrew. In Biblical Hebrew, “chomah” or “kir” are more

common. “Kotel” appears only once (Shir Hashirim 2:9), and its Aramaic cognate, ktal, twice (Daniel 5:5; Ezra 5:8).

2. Historically, the Kotel has been a unifying symbol for the Jewish people, and any struggle was against foreign powers who were restricting Jewish access. Unfortunately, today there is internecine fighting surrounding the Kotel, leading to tension over a formerly consensus issue.

3. Based on Devarim 30:3, the Talmud (Megillah 29a; quoted by Rashi on the verse) says that the Shechinah follows the Jews in their various places of exile. See Tzitz Eliezer 10:1:81 regarding different uses of the term “Shechinah” in these assorted contexts.

4. Rabbi Hayim David Halevi (Aseh Lecha Rav 6:83) uses this midrash as part of his explanation in ruling that a kallah should not use the Kotel as a backdrop for photos.

5. The Rav notes the ramifications—if we had the opportunity, we could build an altar and bring sacrifices because the kedushah is still there.

6. He assumes that Elazar HaKalir lived in the Land of Israel in the tenth century (ibid., p. 138).

7. See “What’s the Truth About … Har HaBayit?,” Jewish Action (summer 2009) regarding a tamei person ascending the Temple Mount; https://jewishaction.com/ religion/jewish-thought/whats_the_truth_ abouthar_habayit/.

8. In 1812, while a dayan in Vilna, he published Sha’arei Zedek detailing the halachot of the Land. In the introduction, he included three prayers that he composed, the first said upon entering Israel, the second upon arriving in Jerusalem, and the third to be said as one stood at the Kotel. In the section Mishpetei Ha’aretz 11:8, he states that the Kotel is a wall of the Beit Hamikdash.

9. See Orchot Rabbeinu, p. 322, in which the Steipler cited the archaeological evidence.

10. For a discussion and eight proofs, see Ir

Hakodesh V’Hamikdash, vol. 4, chap. 2, sec. gimmel (pp. 20-22).

11. Rabbi Yechiel Michel Tukachinsky, Ir Hakodesh V’Hamikdash (4:2:4, pp. 22-23) similarly accepts that King David laid the foundation of the Western Wall, and says that explains why it was never destroyed. What is known as the Shaarei Rachamim today are sealed gates in the eastern wall of the Old City/Har Habayit. And there is no evidence that any of the walls date to the period of King David. Similarly, British Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz erroneously asserted regarding the Western Wall that “it goes back 3,000 years. Originally it formed part of the Temple of Solomon …” (speech as part of a fast day, circa 1928, declared to protest the British capitulation to Arab threats leading to persecution and harassment of Jews at the Western Wall).

12. Quoted also in Mishpetei Ha’aretz 11:7.

13. There is a parallel version of this story recorded by Rabbi Eliezer Nachman Poa [or Foa] (d. 1659; Italian kabbalist known by the acronym of his name, Arnan) in his Midrash BeChiddush commentary on the Haggadah. Commenting on the pasuk in Hallel (pp. 146-7 in 1967 ed.) “He raises up the needy from the earth; He lifts up the poor from the garbage heap” (Psalms 113:7), he quotes a similar story as that told by Rabbi Hagiz, but featuring Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. 14. These are well worth visiting. A section of the southern wall and the excavations at its base are part of the Davidson Center, while the more eastern part is included in other tours. The eastern wall, with its Hasmonean stones and the wall’s noticeable “seam,” is impressive.

15. Elkan Nathan Adler, Jewish Travellers in the Middle Ages: 19 Firsthand Accounts (Dover reprint, 1987), 371.

16. With the exception of a metzora who is barred from walled cities because of the unique status the Torah accords to walled cities, not because of a particular location.

Perpetuating the Masorah

Halakhic, Ethical, and Experiential Dimensions

Essays in Memory of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik

RABBI PROFESSOR YITZHAK (ISADORE) TWERSKY (1930–1997) was Littauer Professor of Hebrew Literature and Jewish Philosophy at Harvard University and founder and head of its Center of Jewish Studies. Following in his father’s footsteps, Rabbi Twersky served as the Talner Rebbe in the Talner Beit Midrash in Boston, where he prayed and taught Torah. He was the son-in-law and student of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, the preeminent halakhic and spiritual leader of Modern Orthodoxy in America. Rabbi Prof. Twersky was a unique figure in the academic and rabbinic world. He was widely acclaimed as one of the leading scholars of his time in Judaic studies, with particular emphasis on medieval Jewish culture and intellectual history, and on the relationship between law and spirituality in Judaism. Some of his published works include an intellectual portrait of Rabad of Posquières and the monumental Introduction to the Code of Maimonides (Mishneh Torah), a literary-historical

the teaching of Torah and its goals, becoming a Torah scholar, the prerogatives of Torah scholars and their responsibilities and obligations, the qualities of teachers and students of Torah, and the uniqueness of Jewish tradition. Commitment to the masorah the passion and love of Torah, the excitement of understanding penimiyut hatorah – the inner spirituality of Torah – all flow from the words and between the lines of these essays.

by Rabbi Professor Yitzhak (Isadore) Twersky, The Talner Rebbe

A leading scholar of academic Jewish studies and professor at Harvard University who also served as the Talner Rebbe, Rabbi Dr. Yitzhak (Isadore) Twersky was a uniquely multifaceted Torah scholar and devoted son-in-law and disciple of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. Perpetuating the Masorah is a collection of essays on aggadic, halakhic, ethical, and spiritual themes dedicated to the memory of his father-in-law. This volume adds an additional dimension to the legacy of this great teacher who so harmoniously integrated intellectual sophistication with religious sensitivity and experiential intensity.

Masters of the Word

Traditional Jewish Bible Commentary from the Twelfth Through Fourteenth Centuries, Volume III

by Rabbi Yonatan Kolatch

Rabbi Yonatan Kolatch has been involved in Jewish education for more than four decades in the US and Israel, in varying capacities, including educational administrator, mashgiach ruchani, teacher, and rebbe. Ordained by Rabbi Joseph B So oveitchik Rabbi Kolatch also holds master’s degrees in social work and Jewish education from Yeshiva University. Before coming on Aliyah in 1993, Rabbi

Kolatch worked as a clinical social worker in addition to his ongoing work in

The scholar, the teacher… reveals his inner spiritual life to his students. He imparts spiritual insights, and touches his students with his faith and enthusiasm, with his religious experiences and yearnings. If

with the religious sensitivity and the experiential intensity. (From chapter 3, “The Sages and Their Students”)

Masters of the Word is an in-depth exploration of the rich world traditional Jewish Bible commentary. analyzes the unique method and style each commentator against the backdrop of his time and place. Using the parashat hashavua as a discrete unit, it devotes each weekly Torah portion to the exclusive commentary of an individual great scholar, thus familiarizing the reader with a significant, but manageable, selection the commentator’s work. Not just another “parashah book,” pioneering work addresses such questions How did the era and its spirit affect commentator, and how did he influence times? How did he approach the Oral and rabbinic tradition? What were his goals? What kinds of textual problems did he with? These issues are addressed clearly comprehensively. The author’s comments fully footnoted. The first two volumes covered Bereishit, and included twelve commentators chronological order from the first through thirteenth centuries, beginning with Chazal and Targumim, through Rashi Rashbam, and ending with Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni, and the Ba’alei Tosafot. This volume, on the first half of Shemot, continues into the fourteenth century, with an emphasis on five central commentators emanating from Spain and Provence: Rambam, Radak, Ramban, Rabbenu Bachya, and Ralbag.

study is a guidebook that gives the reader essential tools for a deeper understanding of biblical commentaries. Masters of the Word makes studying biblical commentary a marvelous experience.”

Dr. Oded Yisraeli Senior lecturer in Kabbalah Goldstein-Goren Dept. of Jewish Thought Ben-Gurion University of the Negev

Rabbi Yonatan Kolatch surveys the history, works and ideas of Judaism’s greatest Biblical commentators—including, in this exceptional volume, Rambam, Radak, Ramban, R. Bachya ben Asher, and Ralbag. Each commentator’s biography, outlook and methodology are examined in depth, followed by illustrative examples of each author’s comments on a particular parashah. A must-read for anyone interested in Biblical commentary, the history of Jewish ideas, or just looking for an unconventional but highly informative parashah companion.

Rabbi Yitzhak Twersky

The scholar, the teacher… reveals his inner spiritual life to his students. He imparts spiritual insights, and touches his students with his faith and enthusiasm, with his religious experiences and yearnings. If we are sensitive, we see not only the workings of his mind, we glimpse not only the processes of his reasoning – the objective discursive exposition of the Torah shebe’al peh – but we are given the opportunity to see and share his subjective perceptions....

The ĥakham reveals much that is otherwise hidden: his ethical behavior; his spiritual yearning; the emotional, experiential components of his religious commitment. All of this – and at times this is difficult for the rebbe – is done in order that the talmid will be the beneficiary. The intellectual sophistication is harmoniously integrated with the religious sensitivity and the experiential intensity.

(From chapter 3, “The Sages and Their Students”)

Masters of the Word is an in-depth exploration of the rich world of traditional Jewish Bible commentary. It analyzes the unique method and style of each commentator against the backdrop of his time and place. Using the parashat hashavua as a discrete unit, it devotes each weekly Torah portion to the exclusive commentary of an individual great scholar, thus familiarizing the reader with a significant, but manageable, selection of the commentator’s work.

Not just another “parashah book,” this pioneering work addresses such questions as: How did the era and its spirit affect the commentator, and how did he influence his times? How did he approach the Oral Law and rabbinic tradition? What were his goals?

What kinds of textual problems did he deal with? These issues are addressed clearly and comprehensively. The author’s comments are fully footnoted.

The first two volumes covered Bereishit, and included twelve commentators in chronological order from the first through thirteenth centuries, beginning with Chazal and Targumim, through Rashi and Rashbam, and ending with Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni and the Ba’alei Tosafot. This volume, on the first half of Shemot, continues into the fourteenth century, with an emphasis on five central commentators emanating from Spain and Provence: Rambam, Radak, Ramban, Rabbenu Bachya, and Ralbag. Forthcoming volumes of Masters of the Word will be devoted to the other books of the Torah, charting the history and development of Bible commentary up to the present day. By viewing the Bible through the varying lenses of its commentators, one can begin to truly understand the depth and diversity of its “seventy facets.”

INSIDE OUthe

PROGRAMS OF THE ORTHODOX UNION

We Belong

By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

“Lo tov heyot ha’adam levado It is not good for man to be alone” (Bereishit 2:18).

If you stop a religious person on the street and ask him to list the components of his religious life, he is likely to name two: faith and practice. Douglas Marshall, however, in his 2002 article “Behavior, Belonging, and Belief: A Theory of Ritual Practice,” not only introduces an alliterative model that outlines our engagement with religion, but adds a third component that is not always considered: belonging and community.

According to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, zt”l, “[much] of Judaism is about the shape and structure of our togetherness. . . . Ours is a religion of community.” Rabbi Sacks notes that tefillah, prayer, ideally manifests with a minyan: “When we pray, we do so as a community.”

He notes that while Martin Buber framed our relationship with G-d as I and Thou, “Judaism is less about the I-and-Thou than about the weand-Thou.”

In Bowling Alone (2000), Harvard Professor Robert Putnam

described an America losing its “social capital” amid a growing individualism. His research found that a growing number of people were spending time by themselves, even in a potentially social milieu like a bowling alley—where more people were going bowling, but less were joining clubs and leagues. Just ten years later, however, and based on comprehensive surveys on religion in America, he and coauthor David Campbell noted that social capital still existed in houses of worship, like synagogues and churches.

Does it surprise us that regular shul-goers are more likely to give tzedakah, volunteer for chesed opportunities, help another person in emotional distress or find him a job and even donate blood? Putnam and Campbell even demonstrated that an atheist who is part of a religious community is more likely to do any of these activities than a believer who prays by himself. As Rabbi Sacks notes, regular attendance at a house of worship is the most accurate predictor of altruism, more so than any other factor, including gender, education,

income, race, region, marital status, ideology and age.

As has been discussed and demonstrated on many occasions, one of the major costs of the recent pandemic was the loss of community. A sense of community is perhaps one of the major benefits of the work we do at the OU and the culture we stress both within and without our walls: that of communication, coordination and collaboration. This sense of community is palpable at Minchah in our beit midrash with seventyfive of our professionals; at the employee appreciation Cookie Day with hundreds of takers (and even more cookies!); at meetings with local and Israeli politicians; on IT’s professional development days; when hosting the United Synagogue delegation from the UK and much more. And that’s just at our headquarters.

By Sara Goldberg and Batsheva Moskowitz

Disability Inclusion in Shuls

In honor of Jewish Disability Awareness and Inclusion Month (JDAIM) this past February, the OU Department of Synagogue Initiatives and Yachad co-hosted an empowering community conversation about disability inclusion in shuls. The event, hosted at the Young Israel of Woodmere in New York and moderated by OU Executive Vice President and Chief Operating Officer Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph, addressed the struggles of families and individuals with disabilities and emphasized the importance of establishing empathy and inclusive and accessible systems in shuls. Rabbi Shay Schachter, Rosh Beit Midrash of the Young Israel of Woodmere and Yachad Posek, delivered words of

Continued from page 95

Out in “the field,” we see OU-JLIC creating community for hundreds, even thousands, of students on twenty-seven campuses throughout North America and Israel; NCSY and its innovative events, such as a JSU club, Latte & Learning, or a 4G Shabbaton; and Yachad’s consistent messaging about inclusion of those with developmental disabilities and more “because everyone belongs.” Our messages, both

chizuk and shared the Torah perspective on why including everyone in shul life is important. This was followed by a panel discussion featuring three Yachad parents on the challenges and joys of being a Yachad parent. In addition to the eighty in-person attendees, over 1,500 people accessed the event via livestream. “ There were so many people, specifically those who have a family member with a disability, who were so thirsty for this conversation,” said Yachad New York Director Rebecca Schrag Mayer.

To access the program, visit ou.org/shul-inclusion.

internal and external, underline this understanding: we accomplish religious and personal engagement when we engender a sense of belonging.

Lo tov heyot ha’adam levado. It is not good for us to be alone; rather, we should seek each other out and connect with community—so that we connect with the Divine. It is not enough just to have faith and

practice; ultimately, to best engage with life, we need belonging. Rabbi Sacks concludes: “This may well be one of the most important functions of religion in a secular age, namely, keeping community alive.” May Hashem help us to continue our efforts to do just that.

Rabbi

Dr.

Josh Joseph

is

OU Executive Vice President/Chief Operating Officer.

OU Hosts Delegates from Europe’s Largest Orthodox Synagogue Movement

In March, the OU hosted a delegation of thirteen executives and lay leaders from the United Synagogue, including newly appointed United Synagogue leaders CEO Jo Grose and COO David Collins, at OU Headquarters in New York. Based in London, United Synagogue is the largest synagogue movement in Europe, supporting sixty Orthodox Jewish communities.

Following opening remarks by OU President Mitchel R. Aeder, the group held several roundtable discussions on topics such as the importance of developing Torah values, cultivating women in leadership, and growing the pipeline of Jewish leaders. Over the next two days, the delegation

traveled to yeshivot and shuls in Manhattan, Brooklyn and New Jersey, met with lay leaders in the home of philanthropists Avi and Becky Katz in Teaneck, New Jersey and visited the OU’s satellite office in New Jersey.

“It was a pleasure to introduce Jo Grose and David Collins, as well as the entire delegation, to the important work that the OU is doing, as well as show them Orthodox synagogues and schools in the area,” OU Community Projects and Partnerships National Director Rabbi Simon Taylor said. “The visit was a watershed moment for them that has the potential to change the future of the United Synagogue.”

OU Leadership Meets with Israeli President

OU Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer; Israeli President Isaac Herzog; OU Israel President Stuart Hershkowitz; and OU Israel Executive Director Rabbi Avi Berman at the meeting in President Herzog’s official Jerusalem residence.

This past January, OU Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer, OU Israel Executive Director Rabbi Avi Berman and OU Israel President Stuart Hershkowitz met with Israeli President Isaac Herzog to discuss the need for increased unity between the State of Israel and American Jewry. At the meeting, held at President Herzog’s official residence in Jerusalem, Rabbi Hauer affirmed President Herzog’s potential to increase unity amid rising tensions between Israel and some American Jews. He noted the need for more dialogue and inclusion to combat misinformation about the State of Israel and the Israeli government. President Herzog praised the OU for its contributions to education and its help in building Jewish identity. He also presented Rabbi Hauer with a copy of the newly printed sefer Heichal Yitzchak, written by the president’s grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Halevi Herzog, and inscribed it with a personal note.

From left: OU Community Projects and Partnerships National Director Rabbi Simon Taylor; OU Executive Vice President and Chief Operating Officer Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph; United Synagogue President Michael Goldstein; OU President Mitchel R. Aeder; OU Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer; United Synagogue COO David Collins; United Synagogue Trustee Saul Taylor; and United Synagogue CEO Jo Grose.

Supporting Ukrainian Orphans

In March, sixteen students from Torah Academy of Bergen County and The Marsha Stern Talmudical Academy Yeshiva University High School for Boys traveled with NCSY Relief Missions to Romania to help the Tikva Odessa orphanage relocate from Neptun to Bucharest. During the ten-day trip, the group helped with packing and moving, and provided fun activities—including soccer competitions and a carnival—for the orphanage’s children, who fled war-torn Odessa, Ukraine in 2022. This is NCSY Relief Missions’ fifth trip to the region.

“Our goal is to show these children that they’re not alone, that there are people who care about them and want to help them,” said NCSY Relief Missions Director Rabbi Ethan Katz.

MTA student Ari Frankel (right) making balloon animals with one of the children from Tikvah Odessa orphanage at a carnival organized by the high-schoolers for the orphans.

To help sponsor additional missions and to learn more about the program, contact Roz Beberman at bebermanr@ou.org.

New Line of GE Fridges to Be OU Kosher Certified

In February, GE Appliances (GEA) announced the production of a new line of fortyfive OU Kosher/CRC Hisachdus–certified top-freezer refrigerators with manually operated, built-in Enhanced Shabbos Mode (ESM). ESM deactivates door switches, auto defrost sensors, touch screens, ice makers and water dispensers, and controls interior lights. These new appliances will allow users to easily turn ESM on and off as needed without an external device. The OU Kosher symbol on the product will confirm certification. The new line of certified refrigerators is estimated to be available to the public in June.

OU Kosher, through its partnership with ZMAN Technologies, continues to work with GEA to increase the availability of kosher-certified, halachically compliant ESM appliances, including ovens, while making them more user friendly.

“Improving access to kosher-certified appliances is in keeping with our mandate to support kosher observance. We’re pleased to be part of this important collaboration that offers consumers another option to maintain kashrus in their homes,” said OU Kosher CEO Rabbi Menachem Genack. For additional information, visit zmantechnologies.com.

“This development [of a new refrigerator line] shows yet another way we’re evolving with the needs of kosher consumers and expanding in the realm of technology.”

—OU Kosher COO Rabbi Moshe Elefant

.

PROMOTIONS AND ACHIEVEMENTS

Welcome to...

.

.

. . Amir Braun,

Media

Placement

Manager, Marketing

and Communications. In this new position, Amir is responsible for streamlining and managing ad placement across the organization, including coordinating publishing schedules, negotiating ad buys and collaborating with the public relations team on the placement of earned media. Amir holds a bachelor’s in marketing with a minor in management from Yeshiva University.

. . Avigail Goldberg, Donor Communications Manager, Institutional Advancement.

Avigail will be working with the OU’s Director of Donor Communications to manage ongoing communications and optimization for donor engagement. She joins the OU with over five years of experience in administration, creative development and communications. Avigail holds a bachelor’s in English with a minor in digital multimedia design from Touro University and a master’s in creative writing from The New School.

. . .

Batsheva Moskowitz, Associate Editor, Jewish Action. Batsheva

is responsible for proofing, editing and fact checking content for Jewish Action’s print magazine, performing photo research for print and digital articles and managing Jewish Action’s monthly newsletter, social media accounts and website. She joins the OU with experience as Copy Editor and Graphic Designer for a graphic book and for OU-JLIC and previously served as Editor of a Brandeis University newsletter. Batsheva holds a bachelor’s in creative writing with minors in business and theater from Brandeis University.

. . Rabbi Yair Menchel, Program Manager, Community Projects & Partnerships.

Rabbi Menchel’s primary focus is on GenAleph, the OU’s new parenting initiative. In addition to managing the program, Rabbi Menchel is the host of GenAleph’s new podcast, “The Jews Next Dor.” Prior to joining the OU, Rabbi Menchel founded the JEDucation podcast, and continues to serve in several roles at Rae Kushner Yeshiva High School in New Jersey. He obtained semichah from Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, holds a master’s in education and leadership from YU’s Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration and gained a certificate in school management and leadership from Harvard’s Graduate School of Education.

.

PROMOTIONS AND ACHIEVEMENTS

. . . Paul Kaplan,

Senior Development Officer, Institutional

Advancement. Paul will be engaging current and prospective donors to the OU with the goal of increasing membership in the Benefactor Circle. He will also be spearheading the OU’s efforts to engage donors in legacy gifts. He has dedicated over twenty years of his professional career to helping others, including over a decade in nonprofit fundraising. Paul holds a bachelor’s in business administration and marketing from East Carolina University and a master’s in education from Penn State University.

Assistant Director

of

Talent Development, Human Resources. As a member of the HR team, Shai will manage the strategy and execution of employee professional development across the organization. Employee trainings, coaching managers and implementing best practices are some of what Shai loves about his new role. Before joining the OU, he worked as the Talent Strategy and eLearning Manager at UJAFederation of New York. Two of Shai’s proudest achievements are his master’s in industrialorganizational psychology and being featured in this issue of Jewish Action

What did you give for your 70½ birthday?

If you are over 70½ you are entitled to transfer up to $100 , 000 each year from your IRA directly to a qualiied charity like the OU. By rolling over your IRA distribution to the OU, you avoid having to include the distribution as taxable income.

. . Shai Kopitnikoff,

Rabbi Yitzhak Twersky

Perpetuating the Masorah: Halakhic, Ethical, and Experiential Dimensions

By Rabbi Yitzhak Twersky; edited by Carmi Horowitz and David Shapiro

The following description of Rabbi Twersky and this volume is drawn from the editors’ insightful introduction.

Rabbi Dr. Yitzhak (Isadore) Twersky (1930–1997) was a uniquely multifaceted Torah scholar. One of the leading scholars of academic Jewish studies, Rabbi Twersky was the Nathan Littauer Professor of Hebrew Literature and Philosophy at Harvard University and founded and headed the university’s Center for Jewish Studies. He was one of the outstanding Maimonidean scholars of his time and a master of medieval Jewish intellectual history with a specialty in the relationship between halachah and Jewish spirituality. His books and his articles became classics in his lifetime, and they continue to be studied and quoted. Simultaneous with his career at Harvard University, Rabbi Twersky succeeded his father, Rabbi Meshulem Zusha Twersky, as the Chassidic head of Beit Hamidrash Beit David in Brookline, and served there as the Talner Rebbe. Rabbi Twersky was deeply committed to his role as the Rebbe and, as an heir to one of the great Chassidic dynasties, he saw himself as a link in the chain of Chassidic tradition. He was as punctilious in preserving Chassidic customs as he was in his halachic observance and was a compassionate leader who cared for and took close interest in his congregants. In addition, he was the devoted sonin-law and disciple of the great representative of the Lithuanian Talmudic tradition, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, “the Rav.”

The essays in Perpetuating the Masorah reveal the profound impact that the Rav had upon him. This volume consists of a collection of essays on aggadic, halachic, ethical, and spiritual themes dedicated to the memory of his father-in-law. The first four of the essays in the volume were originally delivered orally by Rabbi Twersky and published based on a careful transcription of his lectures and examination of his notes, while the last essay of the book, an intellectual profile of the Rav, was written by Rabbi Twersky and newly edited for this volume. The chapters in this volume were shiurim by Rabbi Twersky in tribute to the Rav; they were not intended to be a hesped However, the “presence” of the Rav is felt in all of them, either explicitly or implicitly. The themes that are developed were important to both of them, and

in Perpetuating the Masorah Rabbi Twersky is also perpetuating the legacy of the Rav. The chapters of this volume offer insight into the Rav’s influence on him, notwithstanding his own independent and original thinking and writing.

Some of the issues addressed are: the teaching of Torah and its goals, becoming a Torah scholar, the prerogatives of Torah scholars and their responsibilities and obligations, the qualities of teachers and students of Torah, and the uniqueness of Jewish tradition. Commitment to the mesorah, the passion and love of Torah, the excitement of understanding penimiyut haTorah—the inner spirituality of Torah—all flow from the words and between the lines of these essays. The mesorah emphasizes the centrality of law, which included its observance as well as the heavy intellectual demands of its study, while simultaneously giving a place of preeminence to religious spirituality and to moral and ethical living. This fusion of law and spirituality was a central focus in Rabbi Twersky’s scholarly writings, but for him the topic was not solely academic. It lay at the very heart of his own religious consciousness, his own spiritual commitment to a life of kedushah, holiness. It was a cherished and honored feature of the spiritual legacies he had inherited: the Chassidic tradition he received from his father, and the intellectual-spiritual heritage he received from his father-in-law.

One citation from the book, which describes the ideal of a Torah teacher, encapsulates much about Rabbi Twersky himself and his teachings: “The hakham reveals much that is otherwise hidden: his ethical behavior; his spiritual yearning; the emotional, experiential components of his religious commitment. All of this—and at times this is difficult for the rebbe—is done in order that the talmid will be the beneficiary. The intellectual sophistication is harmoniously integrated with the religious sensitivity and the experiential intensity.” Perpetuating the Masorah adds one more dimension to the legacy of this great teacher who so harmoniously integrated intellectual sophistication with religious sensitivity and experiential intensity.

OU Press and Maggid Books

PHILANTHROPY

NEW GRANT BOLSTERS OU PROGRAM PROVIDING FINANCIAL COUNSELING

Back in 2020, the Metropolitan Chicago Jewish Population Study found that 21 percent of Chicago’s Jewish community’s households were “struggling financially.” Eager to assist the more than 30,000 economically stressed Jewish households in the city, the Walder Charitable Fund began working with Living Smarter Jewish (LSJ) to address the challenge.

LSJ, an OU initiative launched in the summer of 2021, is dedicated to helping Orthodox Jewish individuals and families throughout the United States achieve financial freedom by providing access to educational resources and guidance. With its recent $54,000 gift to LSJ, the Chicagobased Walder Charitable Fund joins the OU in changing the story on the ground in the Windy City.

“The Walder Charitable Fund investment has enormous potential to meaningfully impact the local Orthodox population,” notes Rabbi Simon Taylor, National Director of the OU Department of Community Projects and Partnerships and the Co-Founder of LSJ. “We are honored to partner with them. It’s a natural fit for us to work together.”

“LSJ engages in the long overdue, difficult conversations about money that are critical to our community’s financial sustainability,” explains Baltimore businessman Zevy Wolman, an OU Board Member and the Co-Founder and Chair of LSJ.

“LSJ is not a quick solution to the affordability challenge

facing frum couples,” says OU Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer. “It is, however, part of an educational process. Being fiscally responsible is not just a prudent way to live, it’s a core Torah value.”

LSJ’s more than fifty volunteer coaches are the heart of its program, a number the organization hopes will increase to meet growing demand. A full-time LSJ coordinator works with families across the country to match families with financial coaches at no charge. Clients come from across the Orthodox spectrum and run the gamut of financial circumstances. “While their specific needs range from getting out of debt to figuring out how to pay for a wedding, budgeting is the number-one issue they seek help with,” says Rabbi Taylor.

Thanks to the Walder Charitable Fund, LSJ was able to hire a local program coordinator who is tasked with focusing on the Chicago Jewish community, matching families to coaches as well as organizing in-person community wide programming on financial literacy. Additionally, LSJ identified, trained and onboarded ten Chicago-based coaches. “The beauty of the Walder Charitable Fund’s grant is that it will enable us to provide resources that reflect a deep understanding of that community’s unique nuances, institutions, and social pressures,” explains Stacey Zrihen, a New York-based LSJ Coach.

“The price tag of a frum lifestyle and the pressure to

A panel discussion on financial management for frum families was recently held in New York’s Five Towns. Seen here: from left, Eli Langer, former CNBC Producer and Kosher Money Host, in discussion with Isaac Goldsmith, an Investing Specialist; Mitchell Eisenberger, a Negotiation Expert and Simi Mandelbaum, a Certified Financial Therapist.

keep up with the Jewish Joneses are harsh realities,” says Rabbi Taylor. “LSJ is making a difference by helping individuals and families face them head-on.”

LSJ coaches hail from diverse professional backgrounds, but all receive training as certified financial planners and share a commitment to making financial literacy the norm among frum Jews. A national program, LSJ provides free coaching where coaches meet with clients in-person locally or on Zoom. Additionally, LSJ trained thirty coaches to work with young couples with a specific “shanah rishonah” curriculum, helping newlyweds adjust to the financial realities of married life.

To date, more than 1,100 clients have been coached by LSJ, including Michael and Dina*, a Chicago-based couple who work in Jewish communal service, and who came to LSJ in search of “a real-life budget to manage the financial demands of raising a growing family on a moderate salary.” With game-changing tools from their coach, “we now know what we have and what we don’t, and what we can and cannot afford to spend,” says Michael. “There’s no more guessing.”

LSJ’s goal is not only to help families resolve their financial difficulties, but to preempt them through

Yoni and Sarah* from Lakewood, New Jersey, saw a blurb about LSJ in a newspaper ad. They figured it was too good to be true. “Someone was offering to teach us how to budget for free? Impossible,” says Yoni.

The couple, who both work but still cannot make ends meet, saw this as “a chance to do our hishtadlus.” With guidance from their coach, they are now tracking income and expenses to figure out how to avoid credit card debt. And they are including their kids in the process “so they will know how to manage money when the time comes. It’s so much harder to unlearn bad financial habits,” says Sarah.

Chaya* turned to LSJ for help after separating from her husband. Not being money savvy, she says, “My coach took the worry out of it, reassuring me that whatever my financial struggles, they aren’t forever. That clarity gave me the confidence to take control of my situation.”

education. The idea is to teach what Wolman calls “the alef-beis of money” –saving, investing, responsible spending, and budgeting.

The organization’s website teems with valuable, userfriendly material. Additionally, LSJ produces a podcast with the OU called Kosher Money, designed to educate the Orthodox Jewish community about being financially healthy and responsible. Created in conjunction with Yaakov Langer of the Living L’Chaim Network and former CNBC Producer Eli Langer, Kosher Money’s more than forty episodes cover various money-related topics, including budgeting, investing real estate and more. The full episodes currently boast more than six million views across all streaming and podcast platforms with Kosher Money clips and shorts garnering another 15 million views. The weekly Mishpacha publication, in partnership with Kosher Money and LSJ, features a related Money Talks column that explores the Kosher Money podcast topics in a more in-depth way.

Aiming at educating the younger generation, LSJ also focuses on teaching financial literacy in schools. Financial Educator Rivka Resnik worked with LSJ to disseminate her money management curriculum to schools throughout the country. More than thirty schools currently use LSJ’s curricula, reaching more than 1,000 students. “Due to our relationship with the Walder Charitable Fund, we partnered with Hanna Sacks Bais Yaakov High School, which is using our in-school high school curriculum,” says Rabbi Taylor.

In addition to its other initiatives, LJS runs in-person events such as the one held in New York’s Five Towns this past February, in partnership with Kosher Money, which drew more than 200 individuals and couples eager to learn about money management. The event, which featured Wealth Advisor Rabbi Naftali Horowitz as well as a panel discussion moderated by Podcast Host Eli Langer, included various experts on budgeting, negotiations and investing. LSJ plans to replicate the program in Chicago in the coming months.

Ultimately, LSJ wants to shift the needle so the Orthodox community will think differently about money. “That knowledge will foster the self-confidence to live within our means,” says Wolman. “It’s really about financial responsibility as a Torah value.”

*Not their real names.

LSJ’s goal is not only to help families resolve their financial difficulties, but to preempt them through education. The idea is to teach what Wolman calls “the alefbeis of money” –saving, investing, responsible spending, and budgeting.

Members of the OU Benefactor Circle lead through their philanthropy. Each has donated in support of the OU and its many impactful programs in the 2022 or 2023 calendar years*. We applaud them all—those whose names appear as well as those choosing to remain anonymous—for their commitment. We invite you to join them in making a difference.

T To learn more about the OU Benefactor Circle or to become a member, please call Shira Krinsky at 212-613-8339 or email krinskys@ou org

*Donors are recognized based on date of donation payment

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Gratitude with Grace: An

Inspirational and Practical Approach to Living Life as a Gift

Gratitude with Grace: An Inspirational and Practical Approach to Living Life as a Gift

By Sarah S. Berkovits Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel Mosaica Press, 2022

Reviewed by Alexandra Fleksher

In the world of self-help and pop psychology, keeping a gratitude journal is often touted as the panacea of all ills. We’ve heard it so many times before that the suggestion can elicit an eyeroll. Unless you’ve in fact done the work and kept a gratitude journal. Then you’d know its transformative effects.

In her book, Gratitude with Grace: An

Inspirational and Practical Approach to Living Life as a Gift, Sarah S. Berkovits does more than suggest keeping a gratitude journal (which she does by example in her chapter “Glimpses into My Journal”). It comprehensively explores the power of gratitude via real-life stories, the latest research in the science of happiness, and guided imagery exercises. Berkovits moves beyond the gratitude cliches we’ve all heard, and provides insight, knowledge and practices that can only come from someone who has herself been transformed by the deeper understandings of gratitude. In the author’s words, “Consider it your companion on a journey that will deepen your capacity for love, joy and happiness, and strengthen your connection to G-d.”

The author approaches the topic of gratitude from a very personal perspective. Berkovits was always interested in gratitude. As a psychologist for the New York City Department of Education and as a teacher in schools in England, Israel and America, she’d often ask her students what they’re grateful for. The chapter titled “Raising Grateful Children” documents the beautiful responses students shared—after she

pushed them to go deeper—both in writing and via drawings. There is something so sincere about the drawings of young children, and seeing their gratitude for their parents, their siblings and their material blessings expressed in this medium was heartening and thought-provoking.

Gratitude began to play an even more profound role in Berkovits’s life after two back-to-back accidents: first, a fall on the ice resulting in a broken hip and wrist and then, ten months later, being struck by an SUV while walking home after a Friday night meal. Here is her reflection:

Later, I was informed that such an event had happened to a gentleman who was struck down on a nearby street; he was killed not by the first car that hit him, but the second. While deeply sorry for his misfortune, I felt so much gratitude that this had not happened to me. I kept asking myself, Why did G-d give me extra years? What am I supposed to do with them? And then one day the answer came: You need to write a book on gratitude, to share your experiences, your thoughts, and your research findings with your community as a way of expressing your hakaras hatov to Hashem (gratitude to G-d) and to all the people who were there for you.

Alexandra Fleksher is an educator, speaker, writer, co-host of the Deep Meaningful Conversations podcast, and creative director of the Faces of Orthodoxy social media account. She and her family live in University Heights, Ohio.

While we were not religious at the time, and the bedtime Shema did not accompany my personal prayer, my mother understood how important it is to raise her daughter with a relationship to her Creator and an attitude of gratitude.

Berkovits clearly aimed to write this book with various approaches in mind: personal, spiritual and psychological. She weaves them all together in each chapter, supporting her goal to inform and inspire. The uniqueness of Gratitude with Grace is its diverse offerings of secular and Jewish wisdom. Berkovits generously quotes secular authors, therapists and philosophers alongside musar teachers and Talmudic scholars, partnering academic sources with her insights, observations, stories and experiences. Topics— ranging from the what and why of gratitude to gratitude in adversity—are addressed with breadth and skill, providing a thorough and satisfying read.

The end of each chapter concludes with gratitude practices that inspire the reader to ponder how significantly life could be improved if he or she would implement just one or two. For example, pick one person each week or month and write a letter expressing your gratitude for his or her help. Create a collage with magazine clippings of things you are grateful for and keep it in a prominent place where you will see it regularly. Try to really focus on the words of Modeh Ani each morning. Keep a small stone or crystal in your pocket, and when touching it, think of someone you’ve benefited from.

One of Berkovits’s gratitude practices, which she models in the second appendix, is a personal prayer of thanksgiving to be incorporated as a daily ritual. Her prayer develops the following statements: Thank You for always being with me. Thank You for my periodic difficulties. Thank You for the wonderful life You have given me. Thank You for always listening to my prayers.

While the book is chock full of tips, tools and new ideas, I found this prayer of gratitude at the conclusion of the book to be most personally meaningful. As a child, my mother taught me a personal prayer to say to G-d every night before bed. While we were not religious at the time, and the bedtime Shema did not accompany my personal prayer, my mother understood how important it is to raise her daughter with a relationship to her Creator and an attitude of gratitude. My prayer was composed of an acknowledgement of G-d, a list of things I was grateful to Him for giving me, and a request for the things I wanted. Indeed, the very components of prayer. I continued to say this little prayer into teenagerhood. More than anything, it molded my identity as a recipient of the goodness of my Creator.

Reading someone else’s personal, heartfelt prayer to her Creator reminded me of the power and transformative impact of personal prayer coupled with gratitude. I was surprised to read this line, which I remember saying in some similar iteration as a child: “Thank You Hashem for all the things that I do have, and thank You Hashem even for the things I don’t have.”

Gratitude with Grace will benefit anyone who is interested in discovering a deeper, Torah-based approach to gratitude. And it will change the reader who is serious about putting even a few of the myriad recommendations and exercises into practice.

Summer with Yachad.

Alexa was unconditionally included and she finally made sincere, meaningful friendships.

Sam wishes he could stay all year long. He feels an invaluable sense of normalcy and independence.

Huvi became more flexible and learned to get along with others.

A magical space where individuals develop social skills, overcome fears, make real relationships – and feel more similar than different.

ACROSS THE EXPANSE OF JEWISH THOUGHT: FROM THE HOLOCAUST TO HALAKHAH AND BEYOND

By Hillel Goldberg Ktav Publishing New York, 2022

320 pages

Reviewed by Ben Rothke

Unfortunately, as is often noted, attention spans have greatly diminished over recent generations. This is most obvious when contemplating the LincolnDouglas debates of 1858, each of which spanned three hours. One candidate spoke for an hour, followed by a ninety-minute response, with a final thirty-minute counterresponse by the first candidate. In 2023, the world is a very different place. The two most recent sets of presidential debates were essentially two brief monologues with short quips and jabs. To a degree, a shortened attention span is the antithesis of Judaism, which is built on deep, meaningful ideas that require time to explain and develop. Nowadays, however, rather than take the time to work on understanding these ideas, many people look for shortcuts to get to the conclusion without considering all the steps along the way.

For those looking to continue the profound dialogues of yesteryear, the writings of Rabbi Dr. Hillel Goldberg are like a healing balm to a dry soul. His most recent book, Across the Expanse of Jewish Thought: From the Holocaust to Halakhah and Beyond, includes fourteen essays covering six topics. A brilliant thinker and gifted writer, Rabbi Goldberg takes the reader on an exciting journey across a broad spectrum of topics, ranging from theology to halachah to musar, from the essentials of Jewish prayer to the challenges of free will to textual interpretations and much more. From the mathematics of the Vilna Gaon to personality insights of Rabbis Avraham

Yitzchak HaKohen Kook and Isadore Twersky, Rabbi Goldberg takes readers into the inner corridors of Jewish thought, where surprising insights can be found.

The author’s style is not fire and brimstone but closer to what Eliyahu HaNavi heard, as detailed in I Kings 19:12, that the word of G-d was “a still, soft voice.” He attempts to convince and inspire, rather than criticize and berate.

While many books are encyclopedic in their breadth, they can be relatively easy to write as the process entails collecting and collating a range of sources, with little analysis. Not that Rabbi Goldberg doesn’t harness a vast amount of diverse sources. But with that, knowing that the topics at hand require more than a cursory drive-by reading, he brings an equally profound breakdown of the issues. Be it an analysis of the apocalyptic theology of Professor Emil Fackenheim to the blackbody radiation theory of Max Planck and how it relates to a mikvah, Rabbi Goldberg challenges the reader to think deeply.

Rabbi Goldberg introduces the book by explaining that his methodology

draws on philosopher Isaiah Berlin’s famous 1953 essay The Hedgehog and the Fox. The essay’s title references the Greek poet Archilochus, who observed that “a fox knows many things, but a hedgehog knows one big thing.”

Berlin used it to separate two classes of thinkers: hedgehogs who view the world through the lens of a single defining idea, and foxes who draw on a wide variety of experiences and see the world with depth and complexity.

Rabbi Goldberg uses Berlin’s analogy to describe his fox-like methodology in writing this book. And while he wasn’t using the fox in the analogy to refer to himself in particular, it certainly holds true. However, Rabbi Goldberg represents a unique case where the hedgehog and fox find themselves in the same person. He is a serious Talmudic scholar who is also well educated in secular studies, and he is able to integrate the big picture with the myriad nuances of the minutiae.  Across the Expanse of Jewish Thought starts with a topic that has questions only and no answers—namely, Holocaust theology. Elie Wiesel astutely noted that one must realize that when it comes to the Holocaust, silence is more important than words. Yet there is a danger to that approach in that it surrenders the narrative to whoever chooses to speak about the subject. When the experts are silent, non-experts dominate the conversation. The conventional narrative portrays the Holocaust as millions of Jews going like sheep to the slaughter. However, Rabbi Goldberg notes, there are many instances in which Jews put up significant resistance. This is often overlooked because the Nazis attempted to destroy all evidence of Jewish resistance. That has led to significant underestimation of the

Ben Rothke lives in New Jersey and works in the information security field. He reviews books on religion, technology and science.

degree of physical resistance by the Jews against the Nazis. Rabbi Goldberg attempts to rectify this historical distortion through stories of courage and resistance, demonstrating that there were many different kinds of Holocaust experiences.

In a very different intersection of Jewish thought and history, Rabbi Goldberg explores his longstanding

fascination with Rabbi Yisrael Salanter. His chapter “An Early Psychologist of the Unconscious” looks at Rabbi Salanter’s understanding of the unconscious, in which he held a lifelong interest, and the complex sources of his view. In developing his musar methodology, Rabbi Salanter sought information from all sources, including books on logic, law and

medicine; he was also well versed in the writings of German philosopher Immanuel Kant. In Rabbi Goldberg’s view, Rabbi Salanter was a man of many influences, who brought them all together in the pursuit of ethical and religious excellence.

In addition to biography, Rabbi Goldberg also discusses Jewish practice. For example, he highlights the complexities within the laws of mikvah. Ultimately, the laws devolve into a structure of mutual exclusivity. Often, the attempt to make a mikvah more acceptable according to one halachic opinion makes it unacceptable to another. About this, Rabbi Mendel Kargau writes in Giddulei Taharah that “it is impossible for a mikvah, no matter its configuration, to be kosher according to all opinions.”

For the reader looking to engage in the intellectual depth and breadth of Jewish thought, this is a superb book from a unique thinker. Give yourself the time to read it slowly and carefully. You’ll be a much better person for it.

Elie Wiesel astutely noted that one must realize that when it comes to the Holocaust, silence is more important than words. Yet there is a danger to that approach in that it surrenders the narrative to whoever chooses to speak about the subject.

Our Tenth Aliyaversary

By David Olivestone

Earlier this year, my wife Ceil and I celebrated the tenth anniversary of our aliyah to Israel, and we were able to look back on a very happy and successful move.

Some of those who have a hard time with the aliyah process blame “the bureaucracy” as the problem. True, aliyah is not a simple undertaking, and I still hold onto the bulging accordion file with the boatload of documents we had to assemble. But as was the case with most of our friends here, our experience overall was very positive. Perhaps the one fly in the ointment for us was a certain pakid in the Absorption Ministry whose goal in life seemed to be to confirm that the all-too-familiar stereotype of an obnoxious Israeli bureaucrat really exists.

Although we tried mightily to avoid dealing with him, we were, on occasion, subjected to the idiosyncrasies of his imperious and pettifogging mind. Warned by others never to interrupt him, we once failed to follow this advice and were punished appropriately.

Even today, this image of the exasperating and unfeeling Israeli official, who seems to be happiest when seriously complicating other people’s lives, is ingrained in the minds of some new olim. But the fact is that customer service—both in the government sector and in stores and offices—has vastly improved over the past decade.

Recently, a friend needed to renew his passport and made an appointment online. He showed up on time, took a number and settled himself comfortably in a corner of the large waiting area with his iPad, coffee, sandwich and a newspaper. But his number was called even before he could find his pencil to begin work on the crossword puzzle and he was done within ten minutes.

“You ruined my day,” he told the receptionist on his way out.

Of course, there are times when the regulations seem absurd or when a storekeeper is not so friendly, but that can happen anywhere in the world. The fiendish automated phone systems used by Israeli banks and other companies are no more or less frustrating than they are in America. Outside of the large cities, Israel’s mostly excellent national health system can be less extensive and supportive, but that’s true in other countries too. The cost of living is too high, real estate prices have skyrocketed, traffic is getting worse and worse, and we can’t seem to keep a government together for very long. But Israel is not alone in the world in experiencing such problems. So when something that should be simple goes ridiculously wrong, it’s with tongue in cheek that we say “Only in Israel!”

Yet there are so many wonderful “Only in Israel” moments, that the negatives are washed away in the overwhelming realization that we are living as Jews in our own country.

One erev yom tov, as I paid for my challot and rugelach at the bakery counter, the assistant—a man without a kippah—wished me chag same’ach and said he looked forward to seeing me back during chol hamo’ed. “No,” I replied, “I have all I need for the whole chag as we won’t be having any guests.” “Perhaps,” he suggested, “Eliyahu Hanavi will come?”

Another time, I had to have an MRI in a Jerusalem hospital and the technician asked me what kind of music I’d like to listen to during the test. I hesitatingly mumbled something about being a fan of chazzanut, and against the background of the thumps and groans of the machine I was treated

to twenty-five minutes of the best of Yossele Rosenblatt.

Even after living in Yerushalayim for more than ten years now, I still experience a sense of wonderment when I turn off the street named for Ramban to the street named for Ibn Ezra and when the seasonal decorations on the lampposts are for my festival, not someone else’s. I still experience a sense of gratification when I can daven Minchah in the little shul behind the bread aisle in the supermarket, and when the radio tells me today’s date in the Jewish calendar. I still experience a sense of belonging when one of the most popular TV sitcoms centers around a secular family’s weekly Friday night dinner, and when local merchants display low stools for Tishah B’Av or the arba’ah minim at the front of their stores, as the season calls for.

And I still experience a sense of the reality of our history here in this land when I take my grandchildren to the tayelet (promenade) near our home which has a view of the Har Habayit and explain to them that in all probability this is the spot where Avraham Avinu stood with Yitzchak on their way to the akeidah, when “he saw the place from afar.”

Those who are still seeing Israel from afar, because their circumstances do not allow them to make aliyah, are sadly missing out on all this. Those of us who are here—despite any difficulties, despite the constant existential threats and despite the scary raucousness of the public debate—are thankful every day that we are so privileged.

David Olivestone, a member of Jewish Action’s Editorial Committee and a frequent contributor to the magazine, retired as the OU’s director of communications in 2013.

a Non-alcoholic Sparkling Moscato

Grape Juice with hints of Apple, Peach, Pear, and a gentle Spritz of Italian pizzazz.

Heart.Works

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Styled by Nitza Loketch

Gaucher Disease is an inherited, progressive condition that affects approximately 1 in 850 members of the Ashkenazi community. While carriers have no symptoms, they can unknowingly pass the condition on to their children.