Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz
The “Holy Jew” of Pryzucka once said: “First there were the
prophets, but God looked and saw that the situation was deteriorating and that
the prophets no longer were what they used to be. Then prophecy ceased, and the
prophets were replaced by the Mishnaic and Talmudic Sages. After some time,
they too, began to go downhill, so God brought the Geonim, but after a while
that reality also began to worsen. The Geonim were then followed by the great
Rabbis, the Rishonim and the Acharonim, but they deteriorated as well. So God
brought the Chassidic Rebbes. And now,” said the Holy Jew, “I see that this,
too, is about to deteriorate, but I do not know what will come after that.”
This is a statement not only about the changes that take
place in reality, but also about the fact that in every generation and every
period the Jewish people always has leaders. I do not mean political
leadership: there are political leaders with considerable power in their hands,
but eventually even the memories of the greatest dictators fade and they become
exactly like their myriad subjects who were, in their eyes, like the dust of
the earth. What, for instance, is left from Nimrod, the supreme political
leader in the days of our Patriarch Abraham? Perhaps a few legends, maybe not
even that.
In the final analysis, it is not the political leaders who
change the world. Alongside them there are always people who actually mold and
form the inner essence, even when they have no official function.
Unfortunately, the prophets were not political leaders; rather, they were like
bystanders who served as targets for insults. Even the Prophet Isaiah, who was
of obvious nobility – as is reflected in his high style, and confirmed by our
Sages who say (Tractate Megillah 10b) that he was the king’s cousin – attests
(50:6): “I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off
the hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting.” Yet the prophets are
remembered much more than most of the kings, and have also had much greater
influence both in their own generation and in the times to come. In every
generation there are leaders. They may be prophets or philosophers, technicians
or scientists, inventors of new contraptions or mass media figures. They are
the ones who actually set the course of the world.
The most basic question is – who is a real leader? And the
pertinent question for our generation is: are the rabbis, the contemporary
leaders of Jewry, truly the leaders of this generation?
In the past century, the role of the rabbi has undergone a
major transformation. The reasons for this are numerous, some of which are
economic. However, the fact is that today, the rabbi’s position as a consultant
on Halachic matters is not very relevant. How many people actually turn to
rabbis with questions about kashrut? Today rabbis are being asked to solve
totally different problems: husband-wife or parent-child relationships, and
sometimes also faith issues. As such, the rabbi, who is not a trained marriage
counselor, psychologist or philosopher, is forced to answer them. Consequently,
nowadays rabbis are, unfortunately, dealing mainly with issues for which they have
not been properly trained, and rarely are they dealing with those areas for
which they did receive the proper training. How can a typical rabbi who married
at the age of 19 and has been living with the same wife ever since, truly help
someone who is involved in a relationship with his friend’s wife? How many
rabbis have actually delved into issues of faith in sufficient depth as to
enable them to answer questions on this topic?
What, then, is a true Jewish leader? The Torah (Numbers
1:15) calls the leaders “the heads of the thousands of Israel.” This defines
their essence. The Torah is thus telling us that a true leader is like a head.
The head is the part of the body that knows what is happening in all of the
other organs, and feels the pain of each and every one of them. Similarly, the
leader is supposed to sense the problems and feel the pains of everyone.
The Rebbe of Ruzhyn used to say that he could hear the cry
of a woman in labor 400 miles away from him. Regretfully, I ask which rabbi or
rabbinic organization in the State of Israel cares about the young prostitutes
at the Tel Baruch beach? Most of them do not even know what is happening there.
I do not mean to say that rabbis should go visit the place; but whoever is one
of the “heads of the thousands of Israel” should know that something like this
exists, that there is X number of girls there. These young girls – and it does
not really matter what their precise number is – may not be quite like our
Matriarchs Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel and Leah; but they are our girls, blood of our
blood and flesh of our flesh, and if we do not feel their pain – that is a
problem. This head may be a shtreiml, a simple hat, or a stuffed animal skin,
but if it does not feel the pain of the entire body, it is not a head.
Every Jew is an organ in the national body, and every Jew –
even one who is like the little finger on the left hand – wants to know that
s/he is connected by nerves, flesh and blood to its head. S/he wants to know
that s/he is not an amputated finger but rather a part of the body, able to
feel the workings of his/her head: we all are members of the Jewish body,
interconnected and attached, and therefore ought to seek the head, our “head of
the thousands of Israel.” This is a genuine search. I do not intend to
carefully examine any of the rabbis, the famous and popular ones, those not so
popular or this or that baba (miracle maker): they are all pure and holy. I am
not looking for someone who will be given a platform or granted an honor. It is
my head that I seek; please tell me where it is.
I cannot point to anyone right now, or even suggest a way
for looking for such a person; but I can tell a story. Before his passing, the
Maggid of Mezeritch told his disciples that he was about to die that year, and
that they should seek another rebbe. They asked him: how can we tell whom to
follow, who is a rebbe? And he replied that they should ask him for a way to
fight vain pride. If he gives them advice, then he is worthless; and if he says
“God will help,” then they should follow him for he is a real tzaddik, a
righteous man.
Perhaps we should not go to those who claim to have answers
to all of the questions, but rather to a person who, when asked what the remedy
for the entire Jewish people is, will reply: “I do not know!”
My sandak, Rabbi Avraham Chen, wrote a very emotional book
about his father, Rabbi David Zvi Chen, who was a great man in many ways and
the rabbi of Chernigov, in the Ukraine. In this book he relates how a young man
came to his father to register for marriage. While formally examining his
documents, Rabbi Chen discovered that the young man, who was also a Torah
scholar, was actually a mamzer. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind
that this man was indeed a mamzer. It was not even a question. He held the
papers in his hand, and the young man, who realized that something was amiss,
asked: “Rabbi, what about my match?” and the Rabbi said: “It cannot be.” The
young man said: “I understand that there is a reason why this match cannot
work, so what do you suggest I do?” At that point the rabbi had to reveal to
him that the match could not be, not because the specific bride was unworthy of
him, but because, being a mamzer, he could not marry at all. At this point, the
son discloses that eventually he found the young man sitting in the rabbi’s lap
and both were weeping.
This is the kind of rabbi I am looking for. Rabbi Chen did
not suggest a solution for that young man’s problem, because there was no
solution, nor was he the kind of person who would contrive a solution for a
person born of a forbidden union. But he wept together with him. He wept
because he was a “head”; and he felt the terrible pain of the young man who
would never be able to have a family of his own, just as he would feel a pain
in his own body. For a pain, even in the smallest of fingers, is felt first of
all in the brain.
And one final story: the city of Dvinsk (nowadays:
Daugavpils) in Lithuania had at one point two great chief rabbis who were
appointed, inter alia, in order to counterbalance each other; one was Rabbi
Meir Simcha haCohen, who was the rabbi of the mitnagdim, and the other Rabbi
Yosef Rozin, known as the Rogochover Gaon, who was the rabbi of the Chassidim.
Incidentally, they had an excellent relationship. One day a third person – a
Jewish doctor or lawyer, someone with an official diploma – was also appointed
as the rabbi designated by the authorities. Sometime later a local gentile
encountered a local Jew and told him: “Last night we got together to drink and
play cards all night, and one of the gang was your rabbi.” The Jew asked, “You
mean Rabbi HaCohen?” “Of course not!” said the gentile. “Rabbi Rozin?” the Jew
asked. “Surely not!” replied the Gentile. “So who was it?” asked the Jew. The
gentile named the rabbi designated by the authorities. To this the Jew
responded: “Him? He is your rabbi, not ours!”
Indeed, the question about all kinds of rabbis, designated
or not designated, is: whose rabbi is he? Is he the rabbi of this or that
organization that chose him? Is he perhaps the rabbi of the 1920 Edict for
Electing the Rabbinate, or maybe the outcome of this or that intrigue? If so,
it is no wonder that he is connected with all kinds of acts or rumors that are
not exactly pleasing to God. Who, then, is worthy of being a rabbi, a “head”
for the People of Israel? It is hard to tell, but there are some indications.
The Hebrew letters of the name Israel also form the words li rosh, which mean
“I have a head,” or “a head for me.” The People of Israel is seeking its head.
There may not be a visible head, but it is nevertheless incumbent upon us to
seek a real head and to follow him, regardless of whether or not he has some
public office, is famous or anonymous. We must find a person who is a head, one
who can feel the pains of the public as well as of the individual and uplift
them, one who can cry over the sorrows and tribulations of the Jews both to God
and together with other people, and occasionally also participate in the joys
of his fellow Jews.
No comments:
Post a Comment