Daf Ditty Chagigah 13: God’s Two Chambers

Israel Leah Michaelson Sculpture

God’s tears rain from the heavens as the innocent confess

Others are surrounded by the Devil’s hatred
Blanketing them in villainous greed
A tyranny that little can escape
Demon’s claws ripped and killed their souls

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Men and women’s anguished cries
The truth is concrete
Once kissed by suspicion, destruction followed
Trapped in the burning hell and lost in the sea of sorrows
Is everyone living in lies?
Mothers, fathers, and children die
Blackened, lonely, hatred
Is their no shred of goodness left?
As the innocent become blessed
And the villains fall into the Devil’s grip
No one tear of pity to those signed to lies
Leave the darkness and stop your mourning
And give into God’s embrace1

1
https://powerpoetry.org/poems/gods-tears

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There, in the firmaments, are the ofanim, the seraphim, the holy divine creatures, and the
ministering angels, and the Throne of Glory. The King, God, the living, lofty, exalted One
dwells above them in Aravot, as it is stated:

:‫ ַזְמּרוּ ְשׁמוֹ‬--‫ִהים‬H‫ ֵלא‬,‫ה ִשׁירוּ‬ 5 Sing unto God, sing praises to His name; {N}
‫ְבָּיהּ‬--‫ָבֲּﬠ ָרבוֹת‬ ‫ָלֹרֵכב‬ ,‫ֹסלּוּ‬ extol Him that rideth upon the skies, whose name is the
.‫ְשׁמוֹ; ְוִﬠְלזוּ ְלָפָניו‬ LORD; and exult ye before Him.
Ps 68:5

“Extol Him Who rides upon the skies [Aravot], Whose name is God” And from where do we
derive that Aravot is called “heaven”? This is learned by using a verbal analogy between two
instances of “rides” and “rides”: Here, it is written: “Extol Him Who rides upon the skies
[Aravot],” and there, it is written:

‫ ֹרֵכב ָשַׁמ ִים‬:‫שׁרוּן‬ ֻ ‫ ְי‬,‫כו ֵאין ָכֵּאל‬ 26 There is none like unto God, O Jeshurun, who rideth
.‫ וְּבַגֲאָותוֹ ְשָׁחִקים‬,u‫ְבֶּﬠְז ֶר‬ upon the heaven as thy help, and in His excellency on the
skies.
Deut 33:26

“Who rides upon the heaven as your help”

And darkness and clouds and fog surround Him, as it is stated:

‫ ְסִביבוָֹתיו‬--‫ ִסְתרוֹ‬,|‫שׁ‬ ֶ ‫שׁת ֹח‬ֶ ‫יב ָי‬ 12 He made darkness His hiding-place, His pavilion round
;‫ֻסָכּתוֹ‬ about Him; {N}
.‫ ָﬠֵבי ְשָׁחִקים‬,‫ַמ ִים‬-‫ֶחְשַׁכת‬ darkness of waters, thick clouds of the skies.
Ps 18:12

“He made darkness His hiding place, His pavilion round about Him; darkness of waters, thick
clouds of the skies” The Gemara asks: And is there darkness before Heaven, i.e., before God?
But isn’t it written:

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 ‫ וְּמַסְתּ ָרָתא; ָיַדע‬,‫כב הוּא ָגֵּלא ַﬠִמּיָקָתא‬ 22 He revealeth the deep and secret things; He
‫ ונהירא )וּ ְנהוֹ ָרא( ִﬠֵמּהּ‬,‫ָמה ַבֲחשׁוָֹכא‬ knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light
.‫ְשׁ ֵרא‬ dwelleth with Him.
Dan 2:22

“He reveals deep and secret things, He knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with
Him” demonstrating that only light, not darkness, is found with God? The Gemara answers: This
is not difficult. This verse, which states that only light dwells with Him, is referring

to the inner houses, where there is only light; that source, according to which He is surrounded
by darkness, is referring to the outer houses. And Rav Aḥa bar Ya’akov said: There is one
more firmament above these, which is above the heads of the divine creatures, as it is written:

,‫ ָרִקיַﬠ‬,‫ ָראֵשׁי ַהַחָיּה‬-‫ כב וְּדמוּת ַﬠל‬22 And over the heads of the living creatures there was the
-‫ָנטוּי ַﬠל‬--‫ ַהֶקּ ַרח ַהנּוֹ ָרא‬,‫ ְכֵּﬠין‬likeness of a firmament, like the colour of the terrible ice,
.‫ ִמְלָמְﬠָלה‬,‫ָראֵשׁיֶהם‬ stretched forth over their heads above.
Ezek 1:22

“And over the heads of the divine creatures there was the likeness of a firmament, like the color
of the terrible ice”

RASHI

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The Gemara comments: Until here, you have permission to speak; from this point forward you
do not have permission to speak, as it is written in the book of Ben Sira: Seek not things
concealed from you, nor search those hidden from you. Reflect on that which is permitted to
you; you have no business with secret matters. It is taught in a baraita: Rabban Yoḥanan ben
Zakkai said: What response did the Divine Voice provide to that wicked man,
Nebuchadnezzar, when he said:

,‫ָבֳּמֵתי ָﬠב; ֶאַדֶּמּה‬-‫ ַﬠל‬,‫ יד ֶאֱﬠֶלה‬14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like
.‫ְלֶﬠְליוֹן‬ the Most High.'
Isa 14:14

“I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High” thereby intending
to rise to heaven? A Divine Voice came and said to him: Wicked man, son of a wicked man,
descendant, i.e., follower of the ways, of Nimrod the wicked, who caused the entire world to
rebel against Him during the time of his reign.

RASHI

Summary

Secret Learning: the Divine Chariot, the Angels and the Electrum2

After the esoteric musings of Chagiga 12, we continue to explore verses that discuss the levels of
the firmament and the secrets of Creation.

Without divulging the actual content of these teachings, the rabbis discuss how these materials
should be studied. We learn about the preferred age and the disposition of those who learn. We
are told which special individuals are privileged to have that information. However, there are
limitations on most of us. In fact, even Rabbi Elazar called himself unworthy to learn the secrets
of the Divine Chariot. When Rabbi Yochanan offered to teach him, Rabbi Elazar said that he was
too young to learn; Rabbi Yochanan died before Rabbi Eleazar felt old enough to learn. And when
Rabbi Asi offered to teach him, he stated that had he been meant to learn these secrets, he would
have learned them already.

Magical thinking is described in today's daf. For example, reading Ezikiel could lead to great
danger, which is the result of reading about and understanding the 'electrum'. We are told that

2
http://dafyomibeginner.blogspot.com/2014/09/

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animals that sometimes are on fire and sometimes speak; that lightening and fast-moving creatures
are part of this experience of the mechashmal, the electrum. We are told about the angels seen by
Ezekiel and by Isaiah. The differences in their descriptions are chalked up to where they lived: as
a villager, Ezekiel might have been more impressed and thus more elaborate in his
description. Alternately, a note shares that the Zohar teaches that Ezekiel may have enhanced his
description of the Divine Chariot to bring hope to the people who were at a very low moment. The
Gemara continues to try to reconcile differences in descriptions of faces and of wing-length.

Our daf ends with a discussion about another contradiction regarding the angels. How large were
these troops? Numbers differ. Are they referring to numbers of angels in each troop, or numbers
of troops? Are those troops ministering to G-d or to the river Dinar? And where does this
particular river flow?

I find these dapim on the more ephemeral components of Jewish thought to be both deeply
satisfying and deeply distressing. In yesterday's daf, G-d was described as a thin green line, around
which are layers of firmament. This was profoundly moving for me, as when I pray with my eyes
closed, I see a thin line. I have always felt that that line is G-d. Does this mean that G-d might be
housed in that thin line? Or might it mean that there is a physiological 'vision' of a thin line when
one meditates on G-d? And that I am sharing that experience with the Sages? In either case, how
very exciting!

Rav Avrohom Adler writes:3

Rav Acha bar Yaakov said: There is a heaven above the heads of the Chayos as is stated in a verse
in Yechezkel.

The Gemora warns: Until this point one can discuss, but one cannot discuss any further. In the
Book of Ben Sira it is written that one should not expound on matters that are concealed from him,
one should not investigate what is covered from him. One can only contemplate matters of which
he has been granted permission, because one has no dealing with hidden matters.

The Gemora cites a braisa (which will discuss the distance of the seven heavens from earth): When
Nevuchadnezzar king of Babylon declared, “I will ascend over the tops of the clouds; I will liken
myself to the Most High,” a heavenly voice responded: “Wicked one, son of the wicked one,
descendant of Nimrod the wicked one, who in his reign caused the entire world to rebel.

Man’s years are seventy years.

From the earth till the rakiya is a distance of five hundred years.

The thickness of the rakiya is five hundred years.

3
http://dafnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Chagigah_13.pdf

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The distance between each rakiya is five hundred years.

Above all the rakiyos are the holy Chayos.

The feet of the Chayos alone correspond to the measurements mentioned above.

The ankles of the Chayos correspond to all of the above mentioned measurements.

Corresponding to all of those measurements are the thighs of the Chayos.

The thighbone (which is near the thigh) of the Chayos corresponds to all of the above mentioned
Chayos.

The thigh of the Chayos corresponds to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The torsos of the Chayos corresponds to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The neck of the Chayos corresponds to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The head of the Chayos corresponds to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The horns of the Chayos correspond to all of the above mentioned measurements.

Above all of the previously mentioned measurements is the Heavenly Throne.

The feet of the Heavenly Throne correspond to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The Heavenly Throne itself corresponds to all of the above mentioned measurements.

The living and existing G-d is sitting upon the Heavenly Throne, and you dare declare, ‘I will
ascend over the tops of the clouds; I will liken myself to the Most High?’ But to the nether-world
have you been lowered, to the bottom of the pit!”

We learned in the Mishna that we do not expound upon the discussion of the Heavenly Chariot
(Ma’aseh Markavah) to an individual. The Gemora qualifies this ruling by citing a braisa taught
by Rabbi Chiya that the Mishna means that we do give over the main ideas of the Ma’aseh
Markavah discussion.

This ruling is further qualified by Rabbi Zeira to mean that we only give over the main ideas to
the head of the court and to one who takes the matter seriously. Alternatively, we only give over
these matters to the head of a court who takes the matter seriously.

Rabbo Ami said: Secrets of the Torah may not be transmitted to another unless he possesses these
five attributes:
1. Captain of fifty

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2. A person who is respected
3. Adviser
4. Teacher of the wise
5. Understands mysteries

And Rabbi Ami said: Words of Torah may not be transmitted to an idolater, as it is written: He did
not do so for any other nation; such laws – they shall not know them.

Rabbi Yochanan sought to teach Rabbi Elozar regarding the Ma’aseh Markavah. Rabbi
Elozarresponded that he was not old enough. When Rabbi Elozar became old enough, Rabbi
Yochanan died.

Rabbi Assi told Rabbi Elozar that he would teach Rabbi Elozar regarding the Heavenly Chariot.
Rabbi Elozar responded, “Had I merited, I would have learned it from Rabbi Yochanan your
teacher.”

Rav Yosef knew the Ma’aseh Merkavah; the elders of Pumbedisa knew the Ma’aseh Bereishis
(Work of Creation). The latter said to the former: Let the master teach us the Ma’aseh Merkavah.
He replied: Teach me the Ma’aseh Bereishis. After they had taught him, they said to him: Let the
master teach us in the Ma’aseh Merkavah. He replied: We have learned concerning it: Honey and
milk are under your tongue. The things that are sweeter than honey and milk should stay under
your tongue.

Rabbi Avahu said: It is derived from this verse: The lambs [kevasim] will be your clothing. The
things which are the mystery [kivshono] of the world should stay under your clothing. The Gemora
reverts back to the incident: They then said to him: We have already studied Ma’aseh Merkavah
as far as this verse (the last two verses in the first chapter of Yechezkel): And He said to me: Son
of man. He replied: This is the very essence of Ma’aseh Merkavah (and you have learned a great
deal about it).

An objection was raised from a braisa: How far (in Yechezkel) does the portion of the Ma’aseh
Merkavah extend? Rebbe said: As far as the last occurrence of ‘va’eira’ - and I saw (but not
including it). Rabbi Yitzchak said: As far as ‘Chashmal.’ [These are before the last two verses!?]

The Gemora answers: As far as ‘va’eira’ (or the ‘Chashmal’) may be taught (in a regular way);
from there and on, only the heads of chapters may be transmitted. Some, however, say: As far
as‘va’eira,’ the heads of chapters may be transmitted; from there and on, if he is a scholar able to
understand by himself, yes (he may learn it independently); if not, no.

The Gemora asks: But may one expound the secrets of the ‘Chashmal’ at all? For behold there was
once a child who expounded the secrets of the ‘Chashmal’ and a fire went forth and consumed
him!? The Gemora answers: The case of the child is different, for he had not reached the proper
age.

Rav Yehudah said: The memory of Chananya ben Chizkiyah should be extolled. Due to the
seeming contradictions between the Torah and verses in Yechezkel, people wanted to conceal it.

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Chananya went to an upper room with three hundred barrels of oil (so the candle would be long
lasting), and proceeded to resolve all the seeming contradictions, redeeming the book of Yechezkel
from concealment.

The Gemora cites a braisa: There was once a child who was reading at his teacher's house the Book
of Yechezkel, and he understood what ‘Chashmal’ was, whereupon a fire went forth from
‘Chashmal’ and consumed him. So they sought to conceal the Book of Yechezkel, but Chananya
ben Chizkiyah said to them: If he was a prodigy, are they all prodigies!?
The Gemora asks: What does the word ‘Chashmal’ mean? Rav Yehudah said: The angels that are
called Chashmal are thus called because Chashmal is an acrostic for the words Chayos eish
mimalelos, i.e. fire emanates from their speech. A braisa taught: The word Chashmal can be
interpreted to mean that at times they are chashos, i.e. silent, and at times they are mimalelos, i.e.
speaking. When Hashem talks they are silent, and when HaShem is not talking they speak.

The Gemora begins to explain other verses: And the Chayos ran and returned as the appearance of
the bazak. What is the meaning of ‘ran and returned’? Rav Yehudah said: Like the flame that goes
forth from the mouth of a furnace (and immediately retreats). What is the meaning of ‘as the
appearance of the bazak’?

Rabbi Yosi ben Chanina said: Like the flame that goes forth from between the shards (of an
earthenware utensil). It is written: And I looked, and, behold, there was a stormy wind came out
of the north, a great cloud with a fire flashing up, and a brilliance surrounding it; and out of the
midst, like the color of the Chashmal, out of the midst of the fire.

The Gemora explains: To where did it go? Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: It went to subdue
the entire world under the wicked Nevuchadneztar. And why was this necessary? It was so that
the peoples of the world might not say: Into the hand of a low nation the Holy One, Blessed be He,
delivered His children. The Holy One, Blessed be He, said: What caused Me to be a servant to idol
worshippers? The iniquities of Israel, they caused Me. It is written: Now, as I saw the Chayos,
behold, one Ofan was on the earth by the chayos.

Rabbi Elozar said: It refers to a certain angel, who stands on the earth and his head reaches (into
the heavens) up to the Chayos. In a braisa it was taught: His name is Sandalfon; he is taller than
his fellows by a distance of five hundred years’ journey, and he stands behind the Chariot and
weaves crowns for his Maker.

The Gemora asks: But is it so? Behold it is written: Blessed be the glory of Hashem from His
place; accordingly, no one knows His place!? The Gemora answers: He pronounces the Name over
the crown, and it goes (by itself) and rests on His head.

Rava said: Everything that Yechezkel saw was also seen by Yeshaya. Yechezkel was akin to a
villager who saw the king whereas Yeshaya was akin to one who lives in the city and sees the king.

Rish Lakish said: What is the meaning of that which is written: I shall sing to Hashem for He is
exalted above the exalted? I shall sing a song to he who exalts Himself over the exalted ones. For
the master said: The king of the wild animals is the lion, the king of the animals is the ox and the

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king of the birds is the eagle. Man is exalted above all those, and the Holy One, Blessed be He is
exalted above all of them and above the entire world.

The Gemora asks: It is written: As for the likeness of their faces, they had the face of a human;
and the face of a lion on the right side for the four of them; and the face of an ox on the left side
for the four of them (and the face of an eagle for the four of them).

And elsewhere it is written: And each one had four faces; the first face was the face of the Keruv,
and the second face was the face of a human, and the third the face of a lion, and the fourth the
face of an eagle; but the ox is not mentioned!

Rish Lakish explains: The reason for this discrepancy is because Yechezkel prayed to HaShem
that the ox should be transformed to a cherub. Yechezkel posited, “Master of the world! Should
the prosecutor, i.e. the ox who was worshipped by the Jewish People when they fashioned the
Golden Calf in the Wilderness, become a defense attorney?”

The Gemora asks: What is the meaning of Keruv? Rabbi Avahu said: Like a child, for so in
Babylonia a child is called ‘ravya.’ Rav Pappa said to Abaye: But according to this, what is the
meaning of the verse: the first face was the face of the Keruv, and the second face was the face of
a human, and the third the face of a lion, and the fourth the face of an eagle? Aren’t the face of the
Keruv and the face of a human the same? The Gemora answers: One is a big face, and the other is
a small face (of a child).

The Gemora asks: One verse (in Yeshaya) says: Each one had six wings; and another verse (in
Yechezkel) says: And each one had four faces, and each one of them had four wings!? The Gemora
answers: This is not difficult, for Yeshaya lived in the time when the Bais HaMikdash was
standing, so he saw the angels with six wings, whereas Yechezkel lived immediately prior to the
destruction of the Bais HaMikdash, so he only saw the angels with four wings. The Gemora asks:
Which of the wings were reduced? Rav Chananel said in the name of Rav that the wings with
which the angels sing HaShem’s praises were diminished, whereas the Chachamim maintain that
the wings that cover the angels’ feet were diminished.

The Gemora asks: One verse says: A thousand thousands ministered to Him, and a myriad myriads
stood before Him; and another verse says: Is there any number of His legions? The Gemora asks:
There is no contradiction: One refers to a time when the Temple was standing, and the other refers
to a time when the Temple was no longer standing; as it were, the members of the Heavenly Court
was diminished. It is taught in a braisa (to answer the question): Rebbe said in the name of Abba
Yosi ben Dosai: A thousand thousands ministered to Him; this is the number of one legion; but of
His legions there is no number.

Rabbi Yirmiyah bar Abba said: A thousand thousands ministered to Him — at the fiery stream,
for it is written: A fiery stream issued and came forth from before Him; a thousand thousands
ministered to Him, and a myriad myriads stood before Him. The Gemora asks: From where does
it come forth? The Gemora answers: From the sweat of the Chayos.

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The Gemora asks: And from where does it pour forth? Rav Zutra bar Toviyah said in the name of
Rav: Upon the head of the wicked in Gehinnom, for it is said: Behold, a storm of Hashem is gone
forth in fury; a whirling storm shall rest upon the head of the wicked. But Rav Acha bar Yaakov
said: Upon those who were ordained, for it is said: Who were ordained before their time, whose
foundation was swept away by a river.

TEACHING TORAH TO AN IDOLATER

Rabbi Ami said: One is forbidden from teaching Torah to a non-Jew. This is derived from the
verse [Tehillim 147: 19 – 20]: He declared His word unto Yaakov, His statutes and ordinances
unto Israel. He has not done so with any nation; and as for His ordinances, they have not known
them. Tosfos asks: The Gemora in Sanhedrin (59a) states explicitly that a non-Jew who studies
Torah is liable for death; accordingly, one should be forbidden to teach him Torah because he is
transgressing the prohibition against placing a stumbling block in front of a blind man? The
idolater cannot study Torah, so the Jew should not be able to teach him Torah, why is this new
verse necessary?

Tosfos states: The gentile is permitted to study the seven Noahide laws as the Gemora Sanhedrin
(ibid) states: Rabbi Meir said: A gentile who engages in the study of Torah is like a Kohen Gadol
and the Gemora explains that this is referring to the seven laws which are incumbent upon him to
adhere to. A Jew has an obligation to teach him these halachos. Tosfos answers: Our Gemora is
referring to a case where the idolater has another idolater who is willing to teach him Torah and
therefore there would be no prohibition (based on the Gemora in Sanhedrin) of teaching him Torah;
our Gemora teaches us that nevertheless, a Jew is forbidden from teaching a nonJew Torah.

The Meor Veshemesh (Parshas Chukas) writes that it is permitted to teach the Written Law to an
idolater as we find that Moshe wrote the Torah in seventy languages. The prohibition of teaching
Torah to a gentile applies only to the Oral Law. The Divrei Chaim (Chanukah) rules similarly: The
Torah was written on the stones and the nations of the world copied it over. The Medrash states
that the Holy One, Blessed is He did not protest and allowed them to study the Written Law. It is
forbidden to teach them even one word of the Oral Law.

There are many commentators who disagree with this vehemently and they maintain that it is
evident from many sources that it is even forbidden to teach the Written Law to a non-Jew. In the
sefer, Beis Pinchas (I P. 169) from Rabbi Pinchas HaLevi Horowitz, he writes that all are in
agreement that it is forbidden to teach even the Written Law to a non-Jew; the aforementioned
commentators are merely stating that we are not obligated to protest and prevent a non-Jew from
studying the Written Law. This is derived from the Medrash which stated that Hashem allowed
the idolaters to copy over the Written Law. It is incumbent on us, however, to ensure that the
gentiles do not study the Oral Law.

This explanation is seemingly inconsistent with a ruling issued by Reb Moshe Feinstein in Igros
Moshe (Y”D II: 132): He states that it is forbidden to directly teach Torah to a gentile; however,
if he happens to be in the room when one is teaching Torah to other Jews, the teacher is permitted

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to continue teaching Torah since it is not his intention to teach the gentile. If there is an obligation
to ensure that the gentile does not study the Oral Law, it should follow that one would be compelled
to cease his discourse and wait for the non-Jew to leave before continuing with the teaching of
Torah.

Reveal the Glory of Your Kingdom

The Gemora says: What is the reason that Yeshaya wrote that the angels had six wings, and
Yechezkel wrote that they had four wings each? The Gemora answers that with Yeshaya, when
there were six wings - that was when the Beis HaMikdash was still standing. There, with
Yechezkel, where it says four wings - that when the Beis HaMikdash was no longer standing. From
this we see that today when the Beis HaMikdash has been destroyed they are missing two wings
and there are now only four wings to the angels. It is brought in the name of the Vilna Gaon (and
in the writings of the Arizal as well) that these six words: Baruch sheim kevod malchuso l’olam
va’ed - Blessed is the Name of His glorious Kingdom for all eternity correspond to the six wings
of the angels.

Therefore, since now, the angels lack two wings, there are two words from these six words that
are lacking. The Rebbe, Reb Elimeilech of Lizensk, said that the two words that are missing are:
kevod malchuso - His glorious kingdom. And for this reason, we are asking and praying to HaShem
in the Mussaf prayer of Yom Tov: galei kevod malchuscha aleinu - Reveal the glory of Your
kingdom upon us.

THE QUALITIES REQUIRED IN ORDER TO CONQUER THE JEWS

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:4

Our Daf relates that Hash-m enabled Nevuchadnetzar to conquer the world so that the nations
would not mock the Jewish people and say that Hash-m gave His people over to a lowly nation. A
similar statement appears in Gitin (56b): "Whoever oppresses Yisrael becomes the head [of a
nation]."

The Gemara here seems to contradict the Gemara in Kesuvos (66b), which teaches that when Hash-
m deems it necessary to punish the Jewish people, He delivers them into the hands of a lowly
nation. The Gemara relates that when Rebbi Yochanan ben Zakai saw the daughter of Nakdimon
ben Gurion picking barley kernels from the dung of a Yishmaelite's beast, he said, "Happy is
Yisrael, that when they are doing the will of Hash-m, no nation or foreigner can overtake them,
and when they are not doing the will of Hash-m, He gives them over into the hands of the lowliest
of the nations...."

4
https://www.dafyomi.co.il/chagigah/insites/cg-dt-013.htm

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The Gemara in Kesuvos means that Hash-m makes the Jewish people subject to a nation which
is morally low. The nation may be the greatest in power, but its constituents are uncivilized and
all of the other nations look down upon them. Hash-m does not want the Jewish people to adapt
the corrupt ways of the nation which conquers them, and therefore He makes a morally low nation
conquer them. The Jewish people will be disgusted by the ways of that nation and not learn from
them.

Nevuchadnetzar was the ruler of the nation of Kasdim when he conquered Yisrael.

The MAHARSHA points out that the people of Kasdim were uncivilized and scorned by the other
nations, as described by the verse (Yeshayah 23:13, see Rashi there) and the Gemara (Sukah 52b,
which says the same of the Yishmaelim). Moreover, the Gemara (Yoma 66b) says that any people
who acted in an uncouth manner were referred to as "Bavliyim."

When Hash-m deems it necessary to cause a national conquest (and not merely the humbling of
individual Jews, as was the case with the daughter of Nakdimon), He does not deliver the Jewish
people into the hands of a militarily weak nation, lest the other nations mock the Jewish people.
Hash-m gives them over to a nation of great military might, but which is morally corrupt. (See also
Insights to Moed Katan 18:1 and Kesuvos 66:1.)

THE FOUR FACES OF THE ANGELS

The Gemara discusses the four "faces" of the "chariot-bearing" angels. Originally, the angels had
the faces of a man, lion, ox, and eagle (as described in Yechezkel 1). Yechezkel prayed for mercy
on behalf of the Jewish people so that the face of the ox not incriminate them for the sin of the
Golden Calf, and as a result it was changed to the face of a Keruv (cherub).

These four faces of the angels are represented in another context. When the Jewish people
sojourned in the desert, they encamped in formation according to their tribes. Their encampment
formed a great square around the Mishkan. On each of the four sides of the square were three
tribes. One tribe on each side was designated as the flag-bearer of the group. It was assigned a
banner under which the three tribes encamped. The four flag-bearing tribes were: Yehudah to the
east, Reuven to the south, Efraim to the west, and Dan to the north.

Although the Torah does not explicitly mention the significance of this formation or what appeared
on the flags, the IBN EZRA provides some fascinating information on the subject. The Ibn Ezra
(Bamidbar 2:2) writes:

14
"There were figures depicted on each of the flags. Our sages teach (Bamidbar Rabah 2:10) that on
the flag of Reuven was the figure of a person. This figure recalls the incident in which Reuven
brought Duda'im -- the blossoms of which resemble the figure of a person -- from the field to his
mother (Bereishis 30:14)." (The word "Duda'im" is spelled with the same Hebrew letters as
"Adam," or "person." Moreover, the precious stone which represents Reuven on the Kohen Gadol's
breastplate is "Odem," which is spelled exactly like "Adam" in Hebrew.)

"On the flag of Yehudah was the figure of a lion. Yehudah is compared to the lion in the blessings
of Yakov Avinu (Bereishis 49:9). On the flag of Efraim was the image of an ox, based on the verse
which compares Yosef, Efraim's father, to an ox (Devarim 33:17; see also Bereishis 49:6)." (The
association of Yehudah with the lion, as well as the association of Efraim with the ox, appears to
be the Ibn Ezra's addition to the Midrash.)

"Dan's flag pictured an eagle." (The Ibn Ezra offers no explanation for the connection between
Dan and an eagle. See Rashi to Shemos 19:4, DH Al, and Rashi to Bamidbar 10:25, DH Me'asef.)
"Thus, the four flags resembled the heavenly servants of Hash-m which were seen by Yechezkel
in his vision, and which featured the images of a man, lion, ox, and eagle."

The Ibn Ezra teaches that the four flags of the Jewish encampment in the desert bore the same four
symbols as the celestial beings who carry the Divine Chariot. Why, though, did they share the
same symbols?

The RAMBAN (ibid.) cites a Midrashic source for the words of the Ibn Ezra: "Just as Hash-m
created the four points of the compass, so He surrounded His throne with the likenesses of four
celestial beings, and so He commanded Moshe to organize the camp of the Jewish people into four
flag formations" (Bamidbar Rabah 2:10).

Another Midrash supports the words of the Ibn Ezra: "When Hash-m appeared at Sinai, He
descended with 22,000 angels, as it says (Tehilim 68:18), 'The chariot of Hash-m was tens of
thousands and thousands of angels... at Sinai.' These angels were divided into camps which carried
flags, as it says (Shir ha'Shirim 5:10), 'He is... beflagged with the ten thousands' -- 'Dagul
me'Revavah.' When the Jewish people saw this formation, they desired such flags for themselves.
They said, 'How we wish that we could be divided into flag-bearing camps also!' ... Thereupon
Hash-m said to Moshe, 'Go divide them into flag-bearing formations, as they desire.'"

The "chariot" of 22,000 angels which the Jewish people saw at Sinai may be identified with the
Divine Chariot which Yechezkel saw in his vision. The formation of the angels into "camps" may

15
be a reference to the four "faces" of the Chariot. When Hash-m saw that the Jewish people desired
a similar formation for their own camp, He instituted a system which corresponded exactly to the
Chariot's arrangement, using the same images of a man, lion, ox, and eagle.

THE ANGELS' WINGS THAT WERE TAKEN AWAY

The Gemara relates that when the Beis ha'Mikdash was destroyed, the number of wings on the
angels of the Divine Chariot ("Merkavah") decreased. Before the Churban of the Beis ha'Mikdash,
the angels had six wings. After the Churban, they had only four. According to one opinion, the
wings they lost were the ones with which they sang Shirah (the middle set of wings). According
to another opinion, the wings they lost were the ones which covered their legs (the lower set).
(a) The VILNA GA'ON (end of SHENOS ELIYAHU to Zera'im, and DIVREI ELIYAHU, end
of section on Tefilah) explains that this Gemara is the basis for the prayer recited in the festival
Musaf Shemoneh Esreh, "Galeh Kevod Malchuscha Aleinu" -- "reveal the glory of Your kingship
upon us."

When the people in the Beis ha'Mikdash would hear a blessing recited with the Holy Name, instead
of "Amen" they would respond, "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuso l'Olam va'Ed" -- "Blessed is the
Name of the glory of His kingdom forever" (Ta'anis 16b). These six words correspond to the six
wings of the angels. When the Beis ha'Mikdash was destroyed and two of the wings were taken
away, the corresponding words of the phrase "Baruch Shem" (which was no longer recited after
every blessing) were also taken away.

The Gemara explains that the middle wings, which correspond to the words "Kevod Malchuso"
(the middle words of the phrase "Baruch Shem"), were taken away at the time of the Churban.
"Galeh Kevod Malchuscha Aleinu" is a prayer for the restoration of the Beis ha'Mikdash and the
return of the wings to the angels. In this prayer, one asks Hash-m to "reveal the wings upon which
the words 'Kevod Malchuso' are inscribed."

(According to the opinion that the lower wings were lost, perhaps the words "Kevod Malchuso"
were inscribed on the lower wings and not the middle ones. The words of the verse "Baruch Shem"
may have been inscribed on the wings in the order in which the wings are listed in the verse:
"Baruch Shem" on the upper two, "Kevod Malchuso" on the bottom two, and "l'Olam va'Ed" on
the middle two. Hence, the two wings which were lost represent the Kevod Malchuso which was
lost.)

The BEN YEHOYADA, who cites the words of the Vilna Ga'on, adds that an allusion to this
explanation may be found in the verse. "Kevod Malchusecha Yomeru, u'Gevurasecha Yedaberu"

16
(Tehilim 145:13) -- "The people of the world will speak [once again] of the 'Kevod Malchus' of
Hash-m when they tell of His might" (i.e. when He displays His might by rebuilding the Beis
ha'Mikdash).

(b) The SIFSEI CHACHAMIM (Berachos 3a) develops this idea further in his explanation of a
dispute between TOSFOS (Berachos 3a, DH v'Onin) and the MACHZOR VITRI (cited by
Tosfos, ibid.). The Machzor Vitri explains that the declaration in Kadish, "Yehei Shemei Raba
Mevorach l'Olam...," actually includes two prayers: "May His Name become great and complete"
("Yehei Shemei Raba" -- "May the Holy Name comprised of 'Yud' and 'Heh' be completed by
being joined with the letters 'Vav' and 'Heh'"), and, "May His Name be blessed forever ("Mevorach
l'Olam..."). Tosfos argues and says that it is one prayer: "May His great Name ("Yehei Shemei
Raba") be blessed forever." (This dispute has Halachic ramifications; see REMA OC 56:1.)

The Sifsei Chachamim suggests that according to the opinion that the middle wings of the angels
(the ones with which they sing praise) were taken away, the words "Kevod Malchuso" -- the middle
words in the phrase "Baruch Shem" -- were taken away, symbolizing that the glory of His kingship
was taken away when the Jews were exiled (as implied in Bereishis 46:4, see Ramban and Targum
there). According to the opinion that the lower set of wings were taken away, the words "l'Olam
va'Ed" -- the last two words of the phrase "Baruch Shem" -- were taken away. This symbolizes
that the glory of Hash-m's kingship still exists in the world (see Yoma 69b), but the ultimate,
eternal honor of Hash-m's kingship (that is, the "l'Olam va'Ed" element) is lacking as long as the
Beis ha'Mikdash is not rebuilt. (During the exile, His glory is revealed by His preservation of His
nation in exile, and not by His grandeur in the Beis ha'Mikdash.)

This is the basis for the dispute between Tosfos and the Machzor Vitri. The Machzor Vitri
maintains that the middle wings were taken away along with the "Kevod Malchuso," and thus we
pray that the glory of Hash-m's kingship (the "Kevod Malchuso") be restored. The Machzor Vitri
interprets "Yehei Shemei Raba Mevorach..." to be a prayer that the Name of the glory of His
kingdom ("Kevod Malchuso") be restored to its complete glory.

Tosfos, on the other hand, maintains that the third set of wings were taken away, and that the glory
of His kingship still exists in the world. Thus, we pray only that "His great Name be blessed forever
and ever," and that the Beis ha'Mikdash be rebuilt so that the element of "l'Olam va'Ed" be restored.

17
Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:5

The discussion of ma’aseh bereshit – the secrets of creation – continues with a description of the
heavens. The Gemara records that Rabbi Yehuda recognizes two heavens, while Reish
Lakish enumerates seven heavens.

(It should be noted that Rabbi Yechezkel Landau explains in his Tziyon le-Nefesh Chayah that the
heavens referred to here are spiritual ones, rather than physical ones. Rav Aha bar Yaakov argues,
based on the passage in Yechezkel 1:22, that there is another heaven that stands above these.)

Nevertheless, this highest heaven cannot be discussed, because of the saying that appears in Sefer
Ben-Sira: “Do not discuss things that are beyond your understanding, nor investigate that which is
hidden from you; contemplate that which is permitted, and deal not in secret things.”

Sefer Ben-Sira is one of the earliest books composed after the closing of the Biblical canon. It was
authored by Shimon ben Yehoshua ben Sira, a native of Jerusalem, who was a younger
contemporary of Shimon ha-Tzaddik, prior to the Hasmonean era. The book of Ben-Sira was held
in great esteem, and after its translation into Greek by the author’s grandson (in the year 132 BCE
in Alexandria) it because widely known even among those who were not familiar with the Hebrew
language.

Sefer Ben-Sira is included as a canonical work in the Septuagint (and therefore is considered such
in many other translations of the Bible), and although the Sages chose to view it as one of
the sefarim chitzoni’im – books outside of the canon – they quote it in a respectful manner
throughout the Talmud, sometimes even referring to it as Ketuvim.

Still, because of confusion between this work and another one that was known as Alfa-Beta d’Ben-
Sira, which was a popular – and problematic – work, we find statements in the Gemara forbidding
the study of Sefer Ben-Sira.

The quote from Sefer Ben-Sira that appears in our Gemara can be found (with minor changes)
in chapter 3, passages 21-22.

Sefer cites the ‫( ט ”ז‬O.C. 77:#1) who says that the main mitzvah of toiling in Torah is
when one delves into clarifying and understanding the intricacies and the details of its laws.6

This explanation of ‫ ט ”ז‬can help resolve a question posed by Tosafos on our daf

5
https://www.ou.org/life/torah/masechet_hagigah_1319/
6
https://www.dafdigest.org/masechtos/Chagiga%20013.pdf

18
Tosafos wonders why our Gemara brings the verse from Tehillim to inform us that we may not
teach Torah to an idolator, when this would be prohibited based upon the dictim of

It is prohibited for an idolator to study Torah, and if he does so, he is (see Sanhedrin
59a). A Jew is not allowed to teach him Torah, so as not to be the vehicle by which the idolator
sins. What, then, is being added to this ruling in our Gemara from the verse in Tehillim?

According to we can say that the study of Torah which is prohibited for a idolator is the in-
depth and careful study of its profundities.

This includes the intricate aspects of Torah taught by Moshe to the Jewish people. However, the
study of a simple listing of guidelines of Jewish law and general halachos would not cause a gentile
to be liable for death. A Jew is, therefore, not in violation of for exposing an idolator to
such information.

Our daf teaches that this is still prohibited, nevertheless, based upon the verse in Tehillim.

rules that the prohibition of teaching Torah to an idolator is when we instruct him
about the way to resolve discrepancies and contrasts between different sugyos in the Gemara.

Harav Moshe Feinstein, zt”l, explains (Igros Moshe Y.D. 4:#41) that there is no problem with
instructing Torah to people whose Jewish status is uncertain. In such a case, it is necessary to teach
them about Judaism to educate them about the laws that may apply to them.

We must be careful, however, not to lie or mislead them by telling them that they are definitely
Jewish. We should simply inform them that they might be Jewish, and that we are willing to teach
them about the Torah of Hashem and its mitzvos.

The Gemara Berachos1 rules that when reciting Shemoneh Esrei one must stand with feet together
to emulate the way the angels stand.

The Yerushalmi (2), though, cites a dispute concerning the reason one stands with feet together
for Shemone Esrei. One opinion maintains that the practice is an attempt to emulate the angels,
but the second opinion bases the practice on the way the kohanim walked up the ramp of the altar,
i.e. feet next to one another.

Rabbeinu Yonah (3) writes that our Gemara follows the first opinion in the Yerushalmi; therefore,
one should stand with feet together so that they resemble the one foot of the angels. The Beis Yosef
(4) offers two explanations for the rationale behind this practice. The first suggestion is that when
standing before the Divine Presence one must banish any thoughts of the body and stand in a

19
ministering position like the angels. A second rationale is that standing with feet together is a
symbolic statement that one is incapable of obtaining one’s needs without Hashem’s assistance;
therefore, we stand with our feet together incapable of running to fend for ourselves. One could
suggest that there is a practical difference between these two explanations.

The Terumas Hadeshen (5) writes that it is appropriate to stand with one’s feet together during the
recitation of kedusha. The rationale is that since we declare, “We will sanctify Your name in the
world just as it is sanctified in the heavens” and we know in the heavens the angels stand with their
feet together, it is only logical that we should stand with our feet together to emulate the practice
of the angels.

The Terumas Hadeshen’s application of this halacha to kedusha fits well with the first explanation
cited by Beis Yosef that we stand with feet together in Shemoneh Esrei to emulate the angels.
However, according to the second reason cited, when making a request of Hashem we want to
stand in a position that symbolically shows submission to Hashem’s strength, there is no reason to
stand in this position for kedusha when we do not make any requests at that time.

On our daf, Rav Ami says that one may not transmit Torah to a idolator.

About 350 years ago, someone asked Rav Avraham Amigo, zt”l, an interesting question. “A notzri
who is connected to the authorities has been buying our books in an effort to complete a library of
all the basic Torah texts. He has also offered to pay a certain Jew to teach him Torah. It is not clear
whether this is preparatory to conversion or because he is seeking a way to undermine the Jewish
community. Is it permissible to teach him or sell him seforim?”

The Gadol responded, “It is prohibited to teach him, as we find in the Gemara in Chagiga 13a.
However, if there is a potential threat to Jewish life involved, it is definitely permitted to teach
him, as we learn from the Gemara in Bava Kama 38b. If it does not appear that there is an element
of danger in this case, I forbid teaching him or selling him books.

Whether he truly intends to convert is difficult to ascertain because he could endanger himself by
showing an interest in Judaism as the citizen of a Catholic country. In any case, the Gemara in
Gittin 85a states that conversion is not likely, and we also find many references in Shas that prove
that heretics often try to capitalize on whatever little learning they do have to defame the sages and
undermine the Jewish community.”

20
The Rav continued, “In any event, we must guard against the possibility that he will travel where
he is unknown and get the confidence of a Jew on the road. The Jew will trust him because he is
learned. Once he wins his confidence he may very well kill him.

This is the logic of the Gemara in Menachos 43a regarding the prohibition to sell a nonJew
techeiles. If he was wearing techeiles, he could easily fool a Jew on the road and kill him for his
possessions!”

Rachel Scheinerman writes:7

As we read down the page today, we move up through the heavens. Following a discussion about
the design of the firmament — layers upon layers of sky that make me think the rabbis saw us
living in a giant, airy onion (though without that particular smell) — and the enormous creatures
that stomp around in the heavens, the rabbis finally ascend to a discussion about that strictly
guarded topic that has been alluded to throughout this chapter: the divine chariot.

The mishnah that opened this chapter warned against the study of the merkavah, that fiery,
whirling, animal-bedecked throne that transports God through the heavens, and sometimes down
to earth. But though it is strictly forbidden to teach about the merkavah to more than one person,
and that person must have the wisdom to safely handle it (more on this below), the rabbis spill
plenty of ink talking about the fact that one should not talk about it. And indeed, they also reveal
exactly what “it” is that we may not discuss.

God’s awesome throne is actually described in the first chapter of the Book of Ezekiel: “I looked,
and lo, a stormy wind came sweeping out of the north — a huge cloud and flashing fire,
surrounded by a radiance; and in the center of it, in the center of the fire, a gleam as of
electrum.” (1:4)

What is electrum (chashmal) you ask? Possibly a glowing mixed metal — no one is quite sure. In
modern Hebrew, the word means electricity. Ezekiel goes on to describe the merkavah ensconced
in this electrum as a chariot surrounded by four figures, each facing one of the cardinal directions
and possessing four faces (human, eagle, lion and ox — or perhaps cherub) and four wings: two
outstretched to touch one another, and two more covering their bodies. These figures have human
hands and their legs are fused together to give the appearance of only one leg (the reason that it is
customary to stand with feet together while reciting the Kedushah, during which we imitate the
angels). And there is a fiery torch light dancing around, and some complicated combination wheels
that can move in any direction without turning, and … well, actually, it’s very exciting but more
than a little confusing.

If the merkavah is described openly in the biblical text, why did the rabbis think it should be a
secret? To truly understand the merkavah, the rabbis understood, it is not enough to just read

7
Myjewishlearning.com

21
Ezekiel — you must be wise enough to unlock the full meaning of those verses for yourself, or
you must have a teacher who can help. But to do so is dangerous, as we’ll see in a moment.

Today’s page offers stories of rabbis who sought to learn these secrets, those who feared learning
them, those who taught them anyway (sometimes recklessly), and those who refused to. We even
learn that some wished to suppress the Book of Ezekiel entirely because its futuristic descriptions
of the third Temple contradict other biblical laws about the Temple. But we’re going to jump to
the bottom of the first side of the page because that’s where we learn what happens when the secret
finds its way into the wrong hands.

An incident occurred involving a youth who was reading the book of Ezekiel in the house of his
teacher, and he was able to comprehend the electrum, and fire came out of the electrum and
burned him. And they sought to suppress the book of Ezekiel due to the danger it posed.
Hananya ben Hizkiya said to them: If this youth happened to be wise, are all people wise enough
to understand this book?

In this story, a young scholar who is apparently studying all on his own (though he is in the home
of his teacher) figures out what the first chapter of Ezekiel really means and he is burned —
literally. At this point, the sages once again consider suppressing Ezekiel. This time, not because
of a concern for its incorrect halakhot, but because it contains dangerous secrets that can be
unleashed by anyone who takes the time to figure them out. Hananya ben Hizkiya expresses their
greatest anxiety: Are all people wise enough to understand this book?

Rabbi Johnny Solomon writes:8

Reflecting on how God uses the name “I am El Shaddai” (Bereishit 35:11), our daf (Chagigah
12a) records the opinion of Reish Lakish who explains that this name refers to God as being, “the
One Who told the world Enough!”. The question, of course, is what does this actually mean?

Rabbi Baruch Halevi Epstein addresses this text and offers a majestic answer to this question (in
his ‘Torah Temimah’ commentary to Bereishit 17:1) where he writes: ‘the intention of God in
creating the world was to encourage and empower humanity to strive to engage with, and bring
order to, the creation…And had God not said to the word ‘Enough!’, the creation would have been
completed and it would have achieved its perfected state… But since God said, ‘Enough!’, God
left some work to be done by humanity to perfect the work of creation.’

What this suggests is that humanity was tasked at the beginning of creation to make the world a
better place and this is a calling that continues to speak to each and every one of us; and looking
at the news, and the state of our planet, it is clear that there is still much more work to be done.
Given this, whenever we leave our home and pass by our mezuzah which carries this Name of
God, we should remember that we have been charged with a mission to do what we can ‘to perfect
the work of creation’.

8
www.rasbbijohnnysolomon.com

22
At the same time, it is also important to remember this same thought when we enter our home and
we pass by our mezuzah carrying this Name of God, because, to quote Rabbi Sacks, ‘Families are
the crucible of our humanity. They are the miniature world in which we learn how to face the wider
world’, or phrased differently, ‘it is in our home where we learn how to care about and improve
the lives of others and the environment where we live, which is a skill that we should then apply
when facing greater challenges in the wider world.’

SOURCES9

--‫ ֹכּל ֶקֶרן ִיְשָׂרֵאל‬,‫ַאף‬-‫ג ָגַּדע ָבֳּח ִרי‬
‫ ִמְפֵּני אוֵֹיב; ַו ִיְּבַﬠר‬,‫ֵהִשׁיב ָאחוֹר ְיִמינוֹ‬
{‫ }ס‬.‫ ָאְכָלה ָסִביב‬,‫ְבַּיֲﬠֹקב ְכֵּאשׁ ֶלָהָבה‬
3 He hath cut off in fierce anger all the horn of Israel; He
hath drawn back His right hand from before the enemy; and
He hath burned in Jacob like a flaming fire, which
devoureth round about.
Lam 2:3

-‫ ְבִּמְסָתּ ִרים ִתְּבֶכּה‬,‫יז ְוִאם ל ֹא ִתְשָׁמעוָּה‬ 17 But if ye will not hear it, my soul shall weep in secret
,‫ַנְפִשׁי ִמְפֵּני ֵגָוה; ְוָדֹמַﬠ ִתְּדַמע ְוֵתַרד ֵﬠי ִני‬ for your pride; and mine eyes shall weep sore, and run
{‫ }ס‬.‫ ֵﬠֶדר ְיהָוה‬,‫ ִכּי ִנְשָׁבּה‬,‫ִדְּמָﬠה‬ down with tears, because the LORD'S flock is carried
away captive.

9
See also Daf Ditty Chagigah 5 for more sources

23
 Jer 13:17

Eichah Rabba Petichta 24

24
25
26
27
The verse states: “But if you will not hear it, my soul shall weep in secret [bemistarim] for your
pride” (Jeremiah 13:17). Rav Shmuel bar Inya said in the name of Rav: The Holy One,
Blessed be He, has a place where He cries, and its name is Mistarim. What is the meaning of
“for your pride”? Rav Shmuel bar Yitzḥak said: God cries due to the pride of the Jewish
people, which was taken from them and given to the gentile nations. Rav Shmuel bar
Naḥmani said: He cries due to the pride of the kingdom of Heaven, which was removed from
the world.

The Gemara asks: But is there crying before the Holy One, Blessed be He? Didn’t Rav Pappa
say: There is no sadness before the Holy One, Blessed be He, as it is stated: “Honor and
majesty are before Him; strength and gladness are in His place” (I Chronicles 16:27)? The
Gemara responds: This is not difficult. This statement, that God cries, is referring to the
innermost chambers, where He can cry in secret, whereas this statement, that He does not cry, is
referring to the outer chambers.

The Gemara asks: And doesn’t God cry in the outer chambers? Isn’t it written: “And on that
day the Lord, the God of hosts, called to weeping, and to mourning, and to baldness, and to
girding with sackcloth” (Isaiah 22:12)? The Gemara responds: The destruction of the Temple
is different, as even the angels of peace cried, as it is stated: “Behold, their valiant ones cry
without; the angels of peace weep bitterly” (Isaiah 33:7).

28
 Photo by David Bar-Cohn

Where Are God’s Tears in Lamentations?

Tears abound in Lamentations: the poet cries, the people cry, even the city cries, but God does

not. In contrast, the gods and goddesses of ancient Near Eastern city laments, cry along with

their people. Midrash Eichah Rabbah, seemingly uncomfortable with such a callous depiction

of God, rereads Lamentations to include God weeping.

Prof. Edward L. Greenstein writes:10

Lament is a widespread literary form of expression—from ancient to modern times, from East to
West, chanted and declaimed.[1] Gershom Scholem (1897–1982), the great scholar of Jewish

10
https://www.thetorah.com/article/where-are-gods-tears-in-lamentations

29
mysticism, characterizes lament as tragic discourse that finds expression not in language but in
silence:

[L]ament is precisely the stage at which each language suffers death in a truly tragic sense, in that
this language expresses nothing, absolutely nothing positive… Language in the state of lament
destroys itself, and the language of lament is itself, for that very reason, the language of
destruction.[2]

Lament abounds in language; lament destroys language. This seeming paradox can be sustained,
if not resolved, when we take into consideration the function of lament to exhibit grief,[3] that can
take the non-verbal form of weeping, and is expressed in tears.[4]

Crying for Jerusalem

In the opening of Eikha or Lamentations, composed sometime in the decades following the
destruction of Jerusalem by Babylonia in 586 B.C.E.,[5] an anonymous observer[6] describes a
desolate Jerusalem, personified as a woman:

These tears are given more vivid expression when they are conveyed in a personified Jerusalem’s
own words:

The city grieves over the ravages it has endured. It mourns for itself.

Tears of an Observer

30
An observer with a harsher tone, focusing more on the depredations wrought by the Deity in the
period leading up to the destruction, tells of his own tears at the sight of Jerusalem’s children,
dying of hunger in the streets:

Calling on Jerusalem to Cry

This speaker is so distraught, watching children starve to death (see further Lam. 2:19-20), that he
bids even the stone-cold walls of the city to weep:

The poetic conceit of appealing to the city wall to shed tears recalls the earliest laments over the
destruction of cities and temples.

Early Mesopotamian Laments

At the end of the third millennium B.C.E., the dominant regime of southern Mesopotamia, the
third dynasty of Ur, crumbled under the pressure of foreign aggressors and under the weight of its
internal problems.[8] During the following century (the 20th B.C.E.), Babylonian lamentation
priests composed at least five lengthy laments in which they interpreted the catastrophes as the
venting of the high gods’ anger, but also cited the foreign elements that perpetrated the
disasters.[9] The purpose of the laments is to assuage the gods’ anger, to enable the rebuilding of
the temples, and to restore the gods to them. In the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, not
only are the cities and their gods in grief, but the brickwork of the cities grieves as well:

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These Sumerian laments share several themes and motifs with the book of Eikha, although a direct
influence of the former on the latter is implausible.[11]

YHWH Does not Cry

Nowhere in Lamentations does God show any compassion. Just the opposite—the phrase ‫ְול ֹא ָחַמל‬
“had no compassion” recurs as a refrain throughout chapters 2 and 3 (2:2, 17, 21; 3:43), and
compare ‫ַאָתּה ל ֹא ָסָלְחָתּ‬, “you were unforgiving” in 3:42. It goes without saying that the God of
Lamentations sheds no tears over the destruction he has wrought.

The biblical book of Lamentations makes it abundantly clear that the God of Israel, YHWH, had
doomed Jerusalem for destruction. For example:

32
The next verse mentions an apparently human agent of havoc,[13] nevertheless, the only “enemy”
that counts and is named is the one to whom all these merciless acts of destruction are ascribed—
the Deity himself.

God has determined that Judah should be devastated, and God executes the devastation in anger.
This is in strong contrast to the Mesopotamian laments mentioned above where the human actors
are cited by name.

The Gods and Goddesses of Sumer Cry

In the Sumerian laments, the gods, and particularly the goddesses, of the devastated cities cry over
the desolation of the sites and the people.[18] For example, after mentioning some of the foreign
elements that wrecked the city and its temples, the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur
continues:

33
The Goddess Tries to Save Her City

The goddess is frustrated because when she had first learned that the high gods had determined to
destroy the city, she did her best to intercede, using her tears as a weapon:

As a monotheistic work, Lamentations has no other divine personality, male or female, who could
weep over the travesty. Moreover, unlike with the city gods of Mesopotamia, Lamentations has no
balance between God perpetrating the calamity and God showing empathy toward the people, who
grieve over the suffering that ensues.

The impression is created in Lamentations that the biblical Deity is unfeeling and cruel. He is
unmoved by the profound human suffering he causes. But the classical sages (chazal) would not
let that impression stand.

Rabbinic Midrash: Attributing Merciful Impulses to God

For the sages, as for many other texts in the Bible, the Divine is both just and punitive—and
sensitive and merciful. God maneuvers between the principle of compassion (middat ha-raḥamim)
and the principle of justice (middat ha-din). Accordingly, whereas the God of Eikha sheds no tears
over the destruction He has wrought, the God of Midrash Eikha Rabba not only cries—he shows
himself to be a virtuoso of grieving.[21]

34
For example, in one excerpt, the Deity wails over his temple using rhetoric that recalls the plaint
of Ningal—“Alas, my city! Alas, my house!”—in the Sumerian lamentation quoted above:

Teaching the Angels How to Mourn

The angels want to participate in mourning the destruction, but they are unschooled in this practice.
God insists on teaching them how to mourn.[23] In a passage that begins with a quote from Isaiah
(22:12), God seems to adopt a female role and gesture (Eikha Rabba, Petiḥta 24):

35
Each breast being beaten here correlates with one of the destroyed Temples.

God Weeps

Another text from Eicha Rabbah fills out the biblical text of Lamentations with ancillary episodes,
seeking to show the sympathetic side of the punishing Deity, and insinuates the weeping Deity
into the biblical source through an intertextual association, reading one text in light of another.[24]

Lamentations 1, as we saw above, presents the personified Jerusalem weeping. These verses recall
to the rabbinic mind a verse from Jeremiah, in which Jeremiah employs some of the very same
vocabulary in order to evoke his own tears over the national catastrophe:

Although it seems obvious that this wish is being expressed by Jeremiah, the sages make use of
their characteristic interpretative devices in order to attribute it to the Deity (Eikha Rabba, Parasha
1):

36
In such a tightly reasoned reading, only God could have spoken the verse. God brings himself to
weep over the devastation that he causes.

God Is Overwhelmed by Weeping

According to the same midrashic work, the Deity so wearies himself with weeping that he must
get help. This too is based on a close reading of a passage in Jeremiah (9:16-17). YHWH tells the
prophet (Eikha Rabba, Petiḥta 2):

The midrashist discerns that the Deity here speaks in the first person plural. Let the keeners wail
for us; let our eyes flow with tears. God includes himself as a benefactor of the women mourners’
services.
The Deity, infers the midrash, had so tired himself with mourning over the destruction of the
northern kingdom and other disasters that he felt compelled to wreak on the people of Israel and
Judah, that he would need assistance in properly grieving over the destruction of Jerusalem.

The image of a callous God that is represented in Eikha is rounded out by a far more empathetic
God in Midrash Eikha.[25]

37
Footnotes

1. See, e.g., Nancy C. Lee, Lyrics of Lament: From Tragedy to Transformation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2010).

2. Gershom Scholem, “On Lament and Lamentation,” trans. from German Lina Barouch and Paula Schwebel, Jewish

Studies Quarterly 21 (2014): 4–12 [p.7].

3. See Paul Joyce, “Lamentations and the Grief Process: A Psychological Reading,” Biblical Interpretation 1 (1993), pp.

304-20. Joyce references and applies the well-known theories of Yorick Spiegel and Elisabeth Kübler-Ross concerning

the stages of mourning and dying.

4. Mourning can entail anger as well. See ibid.; also F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, Lamentations (Interpretation; Louisville: John

Knox Press, 1989), pp. 36-41. We should not be surprised to find grief, a process beyond language, and anger, taking

the form of accusation, intermixed in a work of lamentation. In fact, the larger part of the biblical book of Lamentations

is grievance and complaint, wagging a finger of indictment against the God who would so mercilessly, so

disproportionately, rain his wrath down on his people. See Edward L. Greenstein, “The Wrath at God in the Book of

Lamentations,” in The Problem of Evil and Its Symbols in Jewish and Christian Tradition, ed. Henning G. Reventlow

and Yair Hoffman (London-New York: T & T Clark International/Continuum, 2004), pp. 29-42.

5. See Edward L. Greenstein, “The Book of Lamentations: Response to Destruction or Ritual of Rebuilding?” in Religious

Responses to Political Crisis, ed. Henning G. Reventlow and Yair Hoffman (London-New York: T & T Clark

International, 2008), pp. 52-71.

6. Several different voices of lamentation can be found in Eikha, These voices may even seem to be in dialogue or debate.

See my “Voices in Lamentations: Dialogues in Trauma,” TheTorah.com (2015). Although tradition identifies the

author of Lamentations as the more or less contemporaneous prophet Jeremiah, there are many reasons to disavow this

tradition, not least of which is the poet’s negative views of the prophets (see 2:9; 4:13). Almost any modern

commentary will enumerate the reasons. Even the traditionalist commentary of Yael Ziegler (Lamentations: Faith in a

Turbulent World [Jerusalem: Maggid, 2021], pp. 3-7), takes an ambivalent position. However, the speakers in the book

are not the author—there are several speakers, including some females.

7. Translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

8. See, e.g., Piotr Michalowski, The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns,

1989), pp. 1-3.

9. The five laments are over Ur, Sumer and Ur, Nippur, Uruk, and Eridu. They are all available in English editions. For a

survey, see Willam W. Hallo, “Lamentations and Prayers in Sumer and Akkad,” in Civilizations of the Ancient Near

38
 East, ed. Jack M. Sasson (4 vols.; New York: Scribner’s, 1995), vol.3, pp. 1871-1881. For more detail, see Nili

Samet, The Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), pp. 1-13. For an overview

of the city lament genre in the ancient Near East and in the Bible, see Edward L. Greenstein, “Lamentation and Lament

in the Hebrew Bible,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Elegy, ed. Karen Weisman (Oxford-New York: Oxford

University Press, 2010), pp. 67-84.

10. Samet, The Lamentation, p. 57. Cf. from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur, line 380: “Laments

sounded all along its city wall”; Michalowski, The Lamentation, p. 61.

11. For analysis of the parallels, without concluding that there is a direct relationship, see F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, Weep, O

Daughter of Zion: A Study of the City-Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1993).

Editor’s note: See also, Nili Samet, “The Sumerian City Laments and the Book of Lamentations,” TheTorah (2015).

For the argument that Lamentations is more like a cultic lament than a city lament, see Uri Gabbay, “The Genre of

Lamentations,” TheTorah (2017).

12. The holy city and its temple (see, e.g., Isa. 66:1).

13. It is striking that, in contrast to the Mesopotamian laments, Eikha never mentions the agency of Babylonia. The

mention of Edom in Lam. 4:21-22 alludes to an apparent scavenging role in the wake of the destruction; but to examine

this requires a lengthy and detailed discussion.

14. The people is likened to a horned animal, like a gazelle, whose pride and beauty are dashed with the removal of its

horns.

15. By holding back his saving power, he allowed the enemy to do as it pleased.

16. Literally, “stepped” on the bow, holding it steady as he pulled back the string.

17. The Temple.

18. See the classic essay by Samuel Noah Kramer, “The Weeping Goddess: Sumerian Prototypes of the Mater

Dolorosa,” Biblical Archaeologist 46 (1983), pp. 69-80. For women as keeners in the Bible and in other cultures, see,

e.g., Nancy C. Lee, The Singers of Lamentations: Cities under Siege, from Jerusalem to Sarajevo (Leiden: Brill,

2002)—and see further below.

19. Samet, The Lamentation, p. 67.

20. Ibid., p. 63.

21. See further Alan Mintz, Ḥurban: Responses to Catastrophe in Hebrew Literature (New York: Columbia University

Press, 1984), pp. 49-83. For the translation and discussion of many of the pertinent passages, see David Stern, Parables

in Midrash: Narrative and Exegesis in Rabbinic Literature (Cambridge, MA-London: Harvard University Press, 1991),

pp. 24-34. For translations of several lengthy passages from Midrash Eikha Rabba, see David G. Roskies (ed.), The

39
 Literature of Destruction: Jewish Responses to Catastrophe (Philadelphia-New York-Jerusalem: Jewish Publication

Society, 1988), pp. 51-60. For extensive literary and thematic analysis of this midrashic work, see Galit Hasan-

Rokem, The Web of Life: Folklore and Midrash in Rabbinic Literature, trans. Batya Stein (Stanford: Stanford

University Press, 2000; Hebrew original published 1996).

22. From Midrash Eikha Rabba, Petiḥta 24 (ed. Solomon Buber, p. 25). This vocalized text is taken from Sefaria.

23. This excerpt is also taken from Midrash Eikha Rabba, Petiḥta 24 (ed. Solomon Buber, pp. 24-25). The vocalized

Hebrew text is taken from Sefaria.

24. For the centrality of intertextual interpretation in midrash, see Daniel Boyarin, Intertextuality and the Reading of

Midrash (Bloomington-Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1990). Such readings are often if not usually in both

directions. See, e.g., Graham Allen, Intertextuality, 2nd ed. (London: Routledge, 2011).

25. For this theological function of midrash, see, e.g., Yochanan Muffs, The Personhood of God: Biblical Theology,

Human Faith, and the Divine Image (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2005).

40
 The Question of God and Auschwitz

Text 3: Esh Kodesh, Paraszat ha-Chodesh

Exodus 12: 1–20, March 14, 1942
We continue with the reference to prophecy. To receive prophecy a person must be in the state of
joy.

41
Alon Goshen-Gottstein writes:11

It could be asked: How Moses could have had a prophetic revelation, when to receive prophecy a
person must be in a state of joy? Aside from the fact that Pharaoh was trying to kill him, Moses was
anguished over the pain of the Jewish people. Moses had such empathy with the pain of the Jews
that he later said to God, “Please forgive their sin. If not, blot me out from this book that You have
written” (Exodus 32:32). This is the very reason why God appeared to Moses for the first time from
within the burning bush. Rashi (Exodus 3:2), our great commentator, explains the choice of the
thorn bush by quoting the verse , “I am with him in his suffering.”

So God comes down to the bush as an expression of suffering, and He comes to the bush because
Moses is suffering with the Jewish people. Moses is completely in suffering, so how can Moses receive
prophecy?

Now comes the new part. The Talmud (Hagigah 5b) juxtaposes the following two verses: One verse
says: “Strength and rejoicing in His abode” (1 Chronicles 16:27). God’s abode, where He lives, has
strength and rejoicing. So being with God would accordingly assume a state of joy. On the other hand,
it is written “My soul weeps in hidden places” (Jeremiah 13:17). The Talmud asks the following
question: How can you say that God weeps in hidden places when it says that there is only joy before
God, in other words, what is God’s state of emotional being? Is God in joy, or does God weep? The
Talmud answers: There are external chambers, and there are internal chambers. The external chambers,
so to speak, is the external spiritual understanding of God. From this understanding, God is only joy.
Hence, you can’t come to God without joy. But when you go deep, deep inside God, to the inner
chambers, you discover that God is also suffering. Because God has both joy and suffering, this will
be the basis to understand how prophecy can be attained even without joy. This is the move Rabbi
Shapiro is going to make.

So long as God has only “Strength and rejoicing in His abode” (1 Chronicles 16:27) , then prophets
too can prophecy only when they are also b’ simcha (in the state of joy). But when God is, as it were,
together with the Jews in their pain and trouble, then prophecy can also come to the prophet who is
likewise in pain over the plight of the Jews.

11
https://cdim.pl/alon-goshen-gottstein-the-question-of-god-and-auschwitz,3660/pbo/6

42
So you are identified with God. If God is suffering, you can have prophecy even through pain, because
you are one with God, so you are one with God’s pain. In the Talmud, as I have just said, we learn on
the one hand that it is written “My soul weeps in a place of concealment” (Jeremiah 13:17), and the
Talmud asks: Is there any weeping in the face of the Holy Blessed One? After all there is no grief
before Him, because it says: “Strength and rejoicing in His abode” (1 Chronicles 16:27).

There is no contradiction. One verse refers to the inner chambers, while the other refers to the outer
chambers. So learn that in the outer chambers of heaven there is always joy, in the inner chambers
God weeps in His distress over the pain of the Jews.

We spoke earlier about the eclipse of God, the turning of the Divine face, hester panim, God turning
His face away. It is possible that at the time of hester panim, a concealment of the Divine face, God
hides. Where has God turned His face? He has turned it from the outer chambers to the inner chambers.
He has turned it from the joy that is projecting into the world to His own suffering. What beauty and
sensitivity in this interpretation. We think that when God turns His face away He feels nothing, He is
in a state of apathy. On the contrary, when God turns His face away, He is turning His face away from
the outer chambers of joy to the inner chambers of suffering. God turning His face away is an act of
profound suffering so that no one should see how deeply He is crying. God feels in the deepest possible
way precisely when He turns His face away. So at a time of hester panim when God hides Himself
within the inner chambers, a Jew may also enter and be alone with God there, each Jew at its own
level. What an amazing notion: He takes this Midrash that speaks of God being in His inner chambers,
and says: When God is in His inner chambers I can be there with God. God doesn’t go somewhere to
get away from me. If God goes there it is an invitation for me to follow

And he is aware of the fact that not everyone can live it on the same level. He is aware from the mystics
that some people can attain this, other people may not be able to. Everyone would practice such a
teaching according to his own level, but the attempt is to join God in His inner chambers, join God in
His weeping, join God in His suffering. There within the inner chamber, Torah and worship is revealed
to each person who enters. Amazing, a new revelation! You don’t know how to serve, you are all
broken. The instruction is: go to where God is weeping and He will teach you how to serve Him now.

We have already spoken about how the Oral Torah was revealed primarily in exile. Rabbi Shapiro
goes on to list the various revelations of Torah that took place during times of suffering. And he
continues:

There are times when a person wonders about himself, thinking: “I am broken, I am ready to burst
into tears at any moment, and in fact I break down in tears from time to time. How can I possibly
learn Torah? What can I do to find the strength not just to learn Torah, but to discover new Torah,
new piety?” Then there are times when a person beats his heart, saying: “Is it not simply my
supercilious heart allowing me to be so stubborn, is it not only my heart that is making it so hard to
learn Torah in the midst of my pain, in the midst of the pain of the Jews, whose suffering is so
great?” So he asks himself if it is not his own fault. And then he answers himself: “But I am so
broken. I have cried so much, my whole life is fraught with grief and dejection.” He is lost inside

43
his introspective, self-analytical confusion. But as we have said above, it is the Holy Blessed One
who is crying within the inner chambers, and whoever presses himself close to God through Torah
is able to weep there together with God, and also able to learn Torah with Him.

So it becomes a moment of the greatest mystical intimacy. The suffering is so great you can’t learn,
you feel the heart is hard, but you press yourself to come closer to God, and then what do you do in
the inner chambers? You end up learning Torah with God under those conditions of suffering.

This is the difference. The pain and grief one suffers over his own situation, alone, in isolation, can
break a person. He may even fall so far that he becomes immobilized by it. But the crying that a
person does together with God makes him strong. He cries and takes strength. He is shattered, and
is then emboldened to study and to worship.

It is only the first or second time that a person finds it difficult to pick himself up, because of the
pain. If he is bold, if he stretches out with his head to touch the Torah and worship, he gains access
to those innermost chambers where God is. There he laments with God, as it were, alone with Him.
Then even in the midst of pain, he can learn Torah and worship God’s blessed devotions.

So you have a kind of mystical union based on the intensity of suffering and identification with God.
This I offer to you as an example of how someone can live through this intense suffering experience
during the period of the Shoah even though not in this specific locality. I think it now becomes clearer
what I meant by saying: A religious response in being with God, rather than an explanation. In a sense
I humbly continue in the tradition of Rabbi Shapiro. You noticed how much of Rabbi Shapiro’s own
expression is first person expression, yet he speaks of himself as the third person. He says: “I am so
broken, I have cried so much, my whole life is fraught with grief and dejection.” At the end of the day
this whole field of theological reflection comes down to a balance between our being able to speak in
the first person, and then being able to speak with some greater neutrality. It comes down to what we
can accept, what we can live, what makes sense to us. I have suggested to you that the mystical
response, and this is a wonderful example of the mystical response, is based on certain understandings.
You see how Rabbi Shapiro uses certain notions, you see how he refers to the hiding of the face.

The other notion, and I haven’t used this word until now, is Faith. It is a response of faith. Other
responses can easily fall away from faith. They become responses of reason. It is a reasonable process,
it was reasonable to have the Holocaust precede the state of Israel, it was reasonable for this historical
reaction, it was reasonable. But none of this is reasonable.

And the beauty of Rabbi Shapiro’s testimony is that it takes us into the pure domain of faith and the
experience of faith. The power of faith is the power of living with God, transforming your perspective
into the perspective of God, suffering with God’s suffering.

This is the deepest answer to the question “Where is God in the Holocaust?” God is there suffering. If
you don’t see Him that’s because He is crying so much that He has to turn His face away from you.

Our response should be to press to be with Him, to draw the new revelation and the courage, until such
time that the battle between good and evil plays itself out, and the outward salvation, the outward

44
resolution of the situation, can take place. But until the outward resolution takes place, there is the
inward process. Here there is a kind of triumph because in the morning when you woke up you were
too broken, you couldn’t pray, you couldn’t find meaning. If you can find the strength to bring yourself
into the presence of God, to unite with His suffering, and to draw new instruction, that itself is a small
victory. This is a powerful testimony to the power of faith.

Rabbi Shapiro’s words were written in the context of the Warsaw ghetto. They do not constitute a latter
day reflection on the meaning of Auschwitz. They may point the way to how we can think about
Auschwitz, but they were not framed as part of the post-Auschwitz conversation.

The Theological Void in Eikha: God’s Relationship with Israel

Dr. Yael Ziegler writes:12

A troubling theological problem of the book relates to God’s role in the events. Eikha opens by
describing a widowed city, alluding both to the disappearance of Jerusalem’s populace and her
God.[21] Other verses overtly describe God’s desertion, asserting, for example, that “God’s face
scattered them – He did not continue to look at them” (Eikha 4:16). The recurring refrain asking
God to look and see His nation (e.g. Eikha 1:12; 2:20; 5 :1) implies that God has turned His face
away from His people and is no longer interested in their fate or in maintaining a relationship with
them. This state of God’s absence leaves a dearth of hope and a profound uncertainty as to how to
repair the situation.

The depiction of God becomes more menacing when coupled with God’s hostile posture in the
book. Alarmingly, the principle enemy named in the book is God (Eikha 2:4-5): “He poised His
bow like an enemy; He steadied His right hand like an adversary. God was like an enemy, He

12
https://www.etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/ketuvim/megillat-eikha/eikha-rabba-filling-eikha%E2%80%99s-void-part-i

45
swallowed Israel. He swallowed all of her palaces, He destroyed its fortresses, and He increased
in Judah mourning and moaning.” God is filled with anger in the book, and He uses it to afflict
Israel, with devastating results (Eikha 1:12): “Is there any pain like my pain that has been
committed against me, when God made me grieve on the day of his burning anger?” The book
generously metes out depictions of the terrible effects of God’s wrath: “I am the man who has seen
affliction by the rod of His anger… He walked me in darkness and not light (Eikha 3:1-2); “God
completed His wrath, spilled out the anger of His nostrils. He lit a fire in Zion and it consumed her
foundations” (Eikha 4:11).

For rabbinic educators, this presentation of God is untenable. How can Israel reconcile with God
if He is angry and unforgiving? And how can a spiritual leader present God as an adversary to a
shattered nation? God’s silence is likewise troubling, especially since hundreds of years have
elapsed since the destruction, while only seventy years passed before the Second Temple was
rebuilt.[22]

Eikha Rabba frequently reverses Eikha’s depiction of God. God may well be justifiably incensed
at his recalcitrant nation. Nevertheless, the midrashim vividly depict God mourning and lamenting
His nation’s misfortune and suffering: [23]

About these things I cry (Eikha 1:16). “How I wish that my head were water and my eyes a fount
of tears so that I could cry day and night for the slain of the daughter of my
nation” (Jeremiah 8:23). Who said this verse? Jeremiah [could not have] said it, for he could not
abstain from eating, drinking, and sleeping! It must be that God said this, for He does not sleep.
(Eikha Rabba 1:16)

Bakho tivkeh (“she surely cries”). [Jerusalem] cries and causes others to cry with her. She cries
and causes God to cry with her, as it says (Isaiah 22:12), “And God summoned on that day for
weeping and lamenting.” (Eikha Rabba 1:23)

God said to His ministering angels, “What does a human king who is in mourning do?” They said
to Him, “He wears black and covers his head with sackcloth.” He [God] said, “So will I do.”
(Eikha Rabba 3:10)

In Eikha Rabba, God experiences sorrow and deep empathy for His nation’s suffering. In sharing
Israel’s grief, God becomes a source of consolation. More poignantly, God is presented as a
principal casualty of the catastrophe, in which His chief role is victim rather than perpetrator:

God said to His ministering angels, “Come let us go, you and I, and see what has happened to my
house – what the enemies have done to it. Immediately, God and His angels went, with Jeremiah
leading the way. When God saw the Temple, He said, “Surely, this is my house and this is my
resting-place! Enemies have come and done with it as they please!” At that moment, God wept
and said, “Woe to me for my house! My sons – where are you? My priests – where are you? My
beloveds – where are you? What shall I do for you? For I warned you and you did not repent.”
God said to Jeremiah, “Today I am like a person who had one child and he made for [that child] a
wedding canopy, but [the child] died while he was under it.” (Eikha Rabba Petichta 24)

46
At the moment that the Shechina [God’s presence] exited the Temple, she [impulsively] turned
back to caress and kiss the walls of the Temple and its pillars. Then she [the Shechina] wept and
said, “Be at peace my Temple! Be at peace my royal house! Be at peace, my precious house! Be
at Peace!” (Eikha Rabba Petichta 25)

“I was watchful, and I am like a lone bird on a roof” (Tehillim 102:8). God said, I was watchful so
that I could rest my Shechina upon the Temple forever, but I became like a [lone] bird. Just as the
bird, when one takes his goslings, she sits alone, so too God said, “I burned my house, and
destroyed my city and exiled my children among the nations and now I sit alone [and cry]: Eikah!”
(Eikha Rabba Petichta 20)

In these midrashim, God cries with Israel and suffers along with them. God is deeply bereft –
suffering the terrible loss of His house, His city, His children and His future. In the view of the
Rabbinic interpreters, God certainly has not abandoned Israel. According to some midrashim, God
accompanies Israel into exile:

R. Yehuda the son of R. Simon said: Come and see how precious the children are to God, for the
ten tribes were exiled, and the Shechina did not go into exile; Judah and Benjamin were exiled,
and the Shechina did not go into exile; the Sanhedrin was exiled, and the Shechina did not go into
exile; the watches were exiled, and the Shechina did not go into exile; but when the children were
exiled, the Shechina went into exile as it says, “Her young children went into captivity before the
adversary.” And then it says, “Departed from the daughter of Zion is all of her glory.”… What is
this [glory]? This is God. (Eikha Rabba [Buber] 1:3)

The word that came to Jeremiah from God (Jeremiah 40:1). What was that word? [God] said to
him: “Jeremiah, if you stay here, I will go with them [into exile], and if you go with them, I will
stay here.” [Jeremiah] said to Him: “Master of the Universe, if I go with them, what can I do to
help them? Let their King and Creator go with them, for He can help them very much.” (Eikha
Rabba Petichta 34)

God’s company is a source of consolation, ensuring that they are not alone in the exile and that
God guarantees their future redemption.

Eikha Rabba offers a completely different portrayal of God than the one in the book of Eikha. In
transforming God into a victim and companion, the midrashim reverse the meaning of the book.
This indicates both the extraordinary freedom of rabbinic interpretation and their resolute
determination to utilize Eikha in a manner that is efficacious for their downcast constituents.

[22] Cohen, “The Destruction: From Scripture to Midrash,” Prooftexts 2 (1982), p. 29 (especially footnote 29), notes that the
problem of God’s silence is exacerbated by the Christian doctrine of supercessionism and the similar pagan argument, which points
to the abject state of the Jews as evidence that their religion is false. This argument first appears in Cicero and was advanced both
by Celsus in the second century and by Julian in the fourth. Cohen notes that the common biblical motif of "What will the nations
say?" (e.g. Shemot 32:12) is developed not by Eikha, but by Eikha Rabba.
[23] See M. Ayali, “The God Who Suffers the Sufferings of Israel,” in S. Heller- Willensky and M. Idel (eds.) Studies in Jewish
Thought (Jerusalem:Magnes, 1989), pp. 29-50 [Hebrew].

47
 Rekindling the Holy Fire: Fighting over Faith in the Aish Kodesh

Steven Gotlib writes:13

13
https://secureservercdn.net/198.71.233.179/wbt.c2b.myftpupload.com/wp-
content/uploads/2021/12/61fgbnbyGLL.jpg?time=1645330095

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Review of Don Seeman, Daniel Reiser, and Ariel Evan Mayse, Hasidim, Suffering and
Renewal: The Prewar and Holocaust Legacy of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira (SUNY
Press, Albany 2021).

Those who have studied his seforim may have some inkling of how their souls are elevated
through the tzaddik [Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira], but it is impossible to adequately
describe who he was and the profound relevance of his teachings to our generation in
particular…

– R. Moshe Weinberger[1]

R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik once wrote that the religious experience of faith is “fraught with inner
conflicts and incongruities” and “oscillates between ecstasy in God’s companionship and despair
when he feels abandoned by God.”[2] Recent scholarly debates both on the internet and on the
printed page[3] suggest that such an experience of faith may be the perfect description of that of
Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira of Piaseczno.

R. Shapira, best known for the sermons he delivered in the Warsaw Ghetto, is one of the most
widely-read religious figures of our time. His works “have engendered a dedicated readership
across a wide range of communities, from ultra-Orthodox to New Age and Neo-Hasidic, and have
contributed to a public renaissance in appreciation for Hasidic ideas and texts”[4] across the globe.
He is also the subject of Hasidism, Suffering and Renewal: The Prewar and Holocaust Legacy of
Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, edited by Don Seeman, Daniel Reiser, and Ariel Evan Mayse.
This volume, the first collective scholarly analysis of R. Shapira’s writings and legacy, assembles
a cross-disciplinary lineup of scholars in order to highlight new understandings of R. Shapira’s
religious contributions and demonstrate the lasting relevance of his work from a variety of vantage
points.

In addition to presenting a historical context for R. Shapira’s operation and various perspectives
on his earlier, less studied writings, Hasidism, Suffering, and Renewal also highlights an intense
debate about the nature of his faith by the end of his life which will be the focus of this review.
The debate largely centers around a haunting footnote located in R. Shapira’s sermon for Shabbat
Hanukkah 1941. However, the note itself has been dated to 1943 in Reiser’s critical edition
of Derashot Mi-Shnot Ha-Za’am (popularly known as Sefer Aish Kodesh)[5], making it one of the
last things R. Shapira wrote before the manuscript was hidden away. It reads as follows;

‫ ומיתות רעות‬,‫ ומיתות משונות‬,‫ אבל כהצרות משונות‬,‫ רק כהצרות שהיו עד שלהי דשנת תש“ב היו כבר‬:‫הג“ה‬
‫ לפי ידיעתי בדברי חז“ל ובדברי‬,‫ משלהי תש“ב‬,‫ שחדשו הרשעים הרוצחים המשונים עלינו בית ישראל‬,‫ומשונות‬
[6]
‫ וד‘ ירחם עלינו ויצילנו מידם כהרף עין‬,‫ לא הי‘ כמותם‬,‫הימים אשר ישראל בכלל‬

49
[Note:] Only such torment as was endured until the middle of 1942 has ever transpired previously
in history. The bizarre tortures and the freakish, brutal murders that have been invented for us by
the depraved, perverted murderers, solely for the suffering of Israel, since the middle of 1942, are,
according to my knowledge of the words of our sages of blessed memory, and of the chronicles of
the Jewish people in general, unprecedented and unparalleled. May God have mercy upon us, and
save us from their hands, in the blink of an eye.[7]

This note, with its admission that the evils of the Holocaust were truly unprecedented in history
and therefore apparently outside of the Jewish role in history as previously understood, has been
the source of much discontent amongst scholars and theologians alike. Does it represent the
strength, fracture, or collapse of R. Shapira’s faith in the face of an evil the likes of which had
never been seen before?

This question is the subject of a passionate debate between Henry Abramson of Lander College
and Shaul Magid of Dartmouth College in this volume. Abramson’s essay, “‘Living with the
Times’: Historical Context in the Wartime Writings of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira”,
acknowledges that the footnote signifies R. Shapira’s realization that “a fundamental change had
occurred in the universe”[8] and that this recognition had a traumatic impact on his internal spiritual
outlook. However, Abramson sees the question of whether or not Shapira lost his faith due to the
horrors he experienced as absurd since he never indicates losing his belief in God’s existence or
omnipotence despite the unprecedented situation. Rather, R. Shapira maintained an active and
passionate relationship with God throughout his sermons and even in his final footnote.

Though R. Shapira would occasionally raise his voice in pain and fear, he always demonstrated a
confidence that God could save the Jewish people. R. Shapira therefore did not lose his faith in
God, but rather his faith in redemptive history. Abramson writes that “Shapira could no longer fit
the suffering of Warsaw Jewry into any previous paradigm of history, least of all suffering as a
redemptive response to sin, bringing with it the hope of repentance.”[9] Though He could not
comprehend what purpose the Holocaust could possibly have in a divine plan, “he retained,
perhaps even fortified, his unshakable faith in the Almighty.”[10]

Shaul Magid’s neighboring contribution, “Covenantal Rupture and Broken Faith in Esh
Kodesh,”[11] pushes back against Abramson’s conviction. Magid argues that there is a distinction
to be made between R. Shapira’s public portrayal of his faith and his internal struggles, as
expressed by his final footnote. Magid further argues that Abramson’s description of R. Shapira’s
loss of faith in redemptive history does not negate a broken faith. Such a break is a result of the
realization that God will not necessarily save the Jews from a major calamity that they did not do
anything as a people to warrant.[12] For Magid, such realizations render faith in a covenantal God
broken even if faith in general divinity remains.

As such, in contrast to Abramson, Magid asserts that it does not make sense to distinguish between
faith in God and faith in history. Once there is a loss of faith in redemptive history, the realm of
any meaningful covenantal theology has been abandoned. After all, it is precisely through the
medium of history that revelation plays out. Magid argues that R. Shapira, by admitting that the
horrors faced by the Jews of Europe had never been faced before, breaks faith in the covenant itself

50
and preempts the anti-theodicy post-Holocaust theologies articulated most strongly by thinkers
such as Rabbis Yitz Greenberg, Eliezer Berkovits, and Richard Rubenstein.

Magid ultimately places R. Shapira’s faith at “the border where blasphemy can coexist with love
for God… the God that can be believed in, or loved, after theodicy, after history is de-theologized,
is not the same God as before theodicy crumbled with the Ghetto walls or the Great
Deportation.”[13] This conclusion paints R. Shapira as “a sign that the impossibility of faith after
such a rupture is not dependent on modernity per se but can be gleaned through a stark and honest
confrontation with the limitations of tradition.”[14] Though he emphasizes that R. Shapira did not
entirely lose his faith in God, Magid makes it clear that he believes that his faith could not possibly
have remained unscathed after all that he witnessed.

Magid also notes that R. Shapira does not attempt to bring any traditional texts in justification of
his apparent theological paradigm shift. This is, for Magid, a sign that this shift came from a
realization of tradition’s inability to withstand the existence of such radical evil. With this
realization, attempts at theodicy collapse, leaving nothing to take their place. In Magid’s words,
“Disbelief was untenable. But belief as previously defined was no longer possible. God remained,
but the covenant, at least as it existed previously, did not.”[15]

Such a description of R. Shapira’s internal psychology is fascinating and powerfully articulated,

but is it truly reflective of the lived experiences of human beings? Would one who truly lost their
faith in a covenantal God have really followed such a realization with a prayer for speedy
salvation? Don Seeman notes in the volume’s closing chapter, “Pain and Words: On Suffering,
Hasidic Modernism, and the Phenomenological Turn,” that R. Shapira’s sermons often seem to
“serve as little more than a placeholder for contemporary writers’ commitment to their own
paradigmatic narratives of meaning in suffering and unbroken faith – or faith’s inevitable
demise”[16] and that certainly seems like it may be the case here.

Seeman’s observation can be clearly seen when one compares Magid’s translation[17] of the
infamous footnote to Abramson’s[18] in their respective contributions to the volume. Magid stresses
the bizarreness and truly unexplainable nature of the reality in which he found himself while
Abramson’s translation maintains that the reality is unprecedented but instead uses phrases like
grotesque and twisted – words that invoke painful imagery but do not necessarily connote
something beyond the pale of expectation, especially during a time of war. While Abramson
focuses on disgust, Magid focuses on theological turmoil. Magid, who goes out of his way to paint
the vivid picture of a man coming face-to-face with “pure and bizarre evil that erased a covenantal
God,”[19] can only translate the note in a way that grants additional legitimacy to his point. On the
other hand, Abramson’s own position necessitated de-emphasizing aspects of the note that focused
on just how unprecedented the situation was in R. Shapira’s mind – maintaining a neutral
theological tone and maintaining a sense of precedence while focusing on the evilness of the Nazi’s
actions rather than their bizarreness in comparison to the established covenant.

As noted above, the most obvious question one can raise on Magid’s reading is on the basis of the
final line of the footnote, in which R. Shapira continues to pray for God to have mercy and save
His people in the blink of an eye. Abramson, who cannot envision R. Shapira experiencing a loss

51
of faith, takes this as a sign of its unshakability. Magid, though, can make no such claim. After
spending so many pages attempting to prove that the brunt of the note could only be read as
representing a rupture of faith, he has no choice but to quickly describe it as a “final flourish…
between pure rhetoric and uttering something that he no longer believed but also could not put to
rest.”[20]

But it’s possible to suggest, as Seeman does, that both Magid and Abramson are approaching R.
Shapira’s faith in the wrong way by asking “What does R. Shapira believe?” rather than seeking
to understand his words as ritual and literary expressions of an ongoing attempt to resist a final
collapse.[21] Seeman, for his part, suggests that the text of Aish Kodesh “serves not just to convey
a set of doctrines but also to convey vitality for healing and defense of human subjectivity” as well
as “to mediate intimacy with unspeakable grief.”[22]

Seeman then clarifies, based on his analysis of R. Shapira’s other writings, that R. Shapira’s faith
was less about propositions than about actualizing values. Not that R. Shapira would reject such
faith propositions, but his works seem to be more concerned with what Seeman calls “ritual-
theurgic”[23] language, as opposed to conventional theology from the start. Indeed, even when R.
Shapira describes faith in more traditional language, Seeman notes that he still uses vitalistic
language rather than statements of faith. While agreeing with Magid that faith becomes a more
insistent and difficult theme in R. Shapira’s writings over time, Seeman points out that Magid’s
confident assertion of R. Shapira abandonment of a covenantal theology seems to misunderstand
the very nature of his religious experience. As R. Jonathan Sacks wrote, “Faith is not certainty. It
is the courage to live with uncertainty.”[24] This idea may very well sum up R. Shapira’s faith better
than any assertions of rupture and begs the question of how we today experience faith in our own
lives. Is faith a means of connecting to an omnibenevolent God or the map by which we navigate
life’s stormy seas? Is it expressed by a series of pronouncements, a commitment to praxis in the
face of an uncertain reality, or some combination of each?

Ultimately, we will never truly know the state of R. Shapira’s faith in the last few months of his
life. Theology is a tricky subject, made even trickier by the habit of contemporary theologians to
read their own preconceived notions into the texts with which they work. Hasidism, Suffering, and
Renewal offers an unprecedented lens into multiple different interpretations of one remarkable
man’s confrontation with unspeakable evil while also exploring his broader context. As Seeman
closes the volume, on this subject “there is no need for uniformity, and the Rebbe of Piaseczno
would be the last to demand it. Words or pain, religious teaching and the collapse of language, the
text as a vehicle for shared vitality, and threatened loss of humanity are the terrible knife’s edge
on which R. Shapira – for a time – stood.”[25] This volume, for the first time, allows us to stand
there with him and ask ourselves how we may have responded and how that response can and
should color the lives we are lucky enough to be living. The differing contemporary answers to
these questions, and how those answers are read back into R. Shapira’s words demonstrate just
how much this question still matters to thinkers in our day.

Asking ourselves such a question is particularly needed in this day and age, where it seems too
hard to be able to talk about the serious theological questions in our lives. As R. Elliot
Cosgrove wrote in 2007 about questions of faith, “there are no easy answers, but a Jewish

52
community that does not ask them will not get very far in its journey.” Hasidism, Suffering, and
Renewal does a great service in allowing readers to ask those questions, and challenges us to
formulate our own answers along with the volume’s contributors.14

1 Moshe Weinberger (adapted by Binyomin Wolf), Warmed by the Fire of the Aish Kodesh: Torah from the Hilulas of Reb
Kalonymus Kalman Shapira of Piaseczna (Feldheim, 2015), 45-46.

2 Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (Doubleday, 2006), 2.

3 https://www.thelehrhaus.com/scholarship/hasidim-and-academics-debate-a-rebbes-faith-during-the-holocauston-facebook-of-
all-places/

4 Don Seeman, Daniel Reiser, and Ariel Evan Mayse, Hasidim, Suffering and Renewal: The Prewar and Holocaust Legacy of
Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira (SUNY Press,:Albany, 2021), 2.

5 Reviewed in this volume by Maria Herman in her contribution, “A New Reading of the Rebbe of Piaseczno’s Holocaust-Era
Sermons: A Review of Daniel Reiser’s Critical Edition.”

6 Sefer Aish Kodesh (Hebrew)(Feldheim Publishers, 2007), 211n1.

7 Translation from J. Hershy Worch, Sacred Fire: Torah from the Years of Fury 1939-1942 (Rowman and Littlefield Publishers,
2004), 307n1.

8 Seeman, Reiser, and Mayse, 295.

9 Ibid, 297.

10 Ibid, 298.

11 Reprinted from his 2019 volume, Piety and Rebellion: Essays in Hasidism.

12 R. Shapira’s gradual shift away from traditional theologies of suffering is examined in Erin Leib Smokler’s contribution to the
volume, “At the Edge of Explanation: Rethinking ’Afflictions of Love’ in Sermons from the Years of Rage.” R. Shapira’s
unconventional theology is also explored in James Diamond’s contribution, “Raging against Reason: Overcoming Sekhel in R.
Shapira’s Thought.”

13 Ibid, 311.

14 Ibid, 313. This sort of argument also appears throughout Magid’s 2013 volume, American Post-Judaism: Identity and Renewal
in a Postethnic Society, in which he attempts to articulate a path forward for American Jews when “the myth of tradition no longer
operates for them as authoritative.” (11)

14
Thank you to Rabbi Dr. Ariel Mayse for allowing me to review the book, Lea New Minkowitz for her thoughtful editorial
assistance, and Jonathan Engel for copyediting.

53
15 Seeman, Reiser, and Mayse, 313.

16 Ibid, 333.

17 “It is only the suffering (tsarot) that were experienced until the middle of 1942 that were precedented (hayu kevar). But the
bizarre suffering and the evil bizarre deaths (u-mitot ra’ot u-meshunot) that were invented by these evil bizarre murderers on Israel
in middle of 1942, according my opinion and the teachings of the sages of the chronicles of the Jewish people more generally, there
were none like these before. And God should have mercy on us and save us from their hands in the blink of an eye.” (319)

18 “Only the suffering [tsarot] up to the end of 5702 had previously existed [hayu kevar]. The unusual suffering, the evil and
grotesque murders [u-mitot ra’ot u-meshunot] that the wicked, twisted murderers innovated for us, the House of Israel, from the
end of 5702, in my opinion, from the words of the sages of blessed memory and the chronicles of the Jewish people in general,
there never was anything like them, and God should have mercy upon us and rescue us from their hands in the blink of an eye.”
(295)

19 Ibid, 322.

20 Ibid, 323.

21 Daniel Reiser’s contribution to the volume, “Creative Writing in the Shadow of Death: Psychological and Phenomenological
Aspects of Rabbi Shapira’s Manuscript ‘Sermons from the Years or Rage’” touches on this as well.
22 Ibid, 334.

23 Ibid, 349.

24 Jonathan Sacks, Celebrating Life: Finding Happiness in Unexpected Places (Bloomsbury Continuum, 2019), 83.

25 Ibid, 355.

54
 How Did The Murdered Warsaw Ghetto Rabbi Build A Huge
Modern Following?
Henry Abramson writes:15

This month, thousands of unlikely Hasidim will commemorate the martyrdom of a lesser-known
rabbi sometimes called “The Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto.” Since the discovery of his buried
Holocaust manuscripts in December 1950, fascination with the creative genius and theological
heroism of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira has swelled into a rising tide of interest in
unexpected circles.

The Rebbe left behind no surviving children and no Hasidic dynasty, yet his strange mix of
followers continues to grow by leaps and bounds. A Hasidic congregation in Israel thrives around
the grandson of the Rebbe’s brother, and in the heart of Hasidic Williamsburg, Rabbi Yoel Rubin’s
remarkable chaburah studies the Rebbe’s Torah in The Shtiebl, even though they wear the
traditional garb of other Hasidic groups. Manchester, UK has a congregation dedicated to the
Rebbe as well.

But more surprisingly, in tony Woodmere New York, a synagogue named Aish Kodesh flourishes
under the leadership of Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, serving a largely modern Orthodox community
otherwise more likely to identify with the Manhattan’s Upper West Side than with Hasidic Meah

15
https://forward.com/scribe/412012/the-murdered-piaseczno-rebbe-left-no-heirs-how-did-he-build-a-huge-modern/

55
She’arim. On the political right, an Israeli settlement in Israel carries the name as well, taken from
a murdered Israeli security guard who was in turn named for the Rebbe’s Warsaw Ghetto writings.
On the more left wing end of the spectrum, Yeshivat Maharat, more widely known for their training
and ordination of female clergy, has Dr. Erin Lieb Smokler as their Director of Spiritual
Development; Dr. Smokler’s 2014 dissertation at the University of Chicago was on the Piaseczno
Rebbe.

To be sure, his Holocaust writings possess an incredible level of potency and immediacy as he
finds creative — although often theologically challenging — ways of conveying meaning in the
darkness of the Warsaw Ghetto. These writings are perhaps the greatest contribution to the study
of theodicy since the Book of Job. For those who know his work well, however, it is his prewar
writings that express the warmth and power of his Hasidic philosophy. He wrote for a generation
not unlike our own, with many ideologies competing for Jewish hearts and minds, resulting in
widespread defection from the Hasidic lifestyles, and his thought is persuasive for millennials,
raised in the current postmodern Zeitgeist.

Many Americans first encountered the Rebbe of Piaseczno (pronounced Pee-ah-SECH-no)

through Shlomo Carlebach’s iconic 1981 “The Holy Hunchback” story. Apocryphal and
inaccurate in minor details — the story of the child who found the writings is apparently without
foundation — Carlebach’s story nevertheless captured the essential spirit of Rabbi Shapira and
some key biographical elements well confirmed by survivors who remember his boundless love
for all Jews, and especially children.

Born in 1889, Rabbi Shapira was the gifted scion of the Grodzisk Hasidic dynasty. He led a large
Yeshiva in Warsaw and authored a remarkable introduction to Jewish spirituality for children
entitled The Obligation of Students (1932). Trapped in the Warsaw Ghetto with the Nazi invasion
of 1939, the Rebbe refused offers from the Jewish underground to spirit him to safety, insisting on
remaining with the expanding group of followers — Hasidim, mitnagdim and freethinkers — who
gathered in his Bet Midrash every Shabbat, hoping to hear words of consolation to help them
through the increasingly horrific conditions of the German occupation.

After the massive deportation of Warsaw Jews to their deaths in Treblinka, the Rebbe was
impressed into slave labor, first in the Ghetto and then later in the Trawniki labor camp. Before
his expulsion, however, he entrusted his notes from those weekly gatherings — as well as his
personal spiritual journal and two unpublished sequels to The Obligation of Students — to Dr.
Emmanuel Ringelblum’s clandestine Oneg Shabbat archive. The precious manuscripts were sealed
in a tin milk container and remained entombed under a building at 68 Nowolipki Street until they
were accidentally uncovered by a Polish construction worker clearing rubble from the destroyed
ghetto. The Holocaust sermons were published in Israel ten years later under the title “Holy Fire”
— Aish Kodesh — the name by which Rabbi Shapira is now most widely known.

Survivors from Trawniki recall that the Rebbe maintained his solidarity with other Jews in the
labor camp right to the very end, refusing to participate in an escape attempt if it did not include
all prisoners. In the fall of 1943, however, the Nazis implemented a vicious plan called “Operation
Harvest Festival” in response to the growing wave of Jewish revolts. The Rebbe was murdered on
the fourth or fifth of Cheshvan, 5704. The Nazi responsible for overseeing the mass shootings

56
survived the war went into hiding and eventually immigrated to the United States, living peacefully
in Queens, New York, until his deportation to stand trial earlier this year.

What accounts for the remarkable popularity of the Rebbe’s works, and why does his thought
resonate over such a broad and diverse audience?

Rabbi Shapira was, by all accounts, an exceptional individual with a unique sensitivity to the
challenges of every Jew. Many, like Dr. Michael Chigel of Chabad in Jerusalem, see his
spirituality as a form of heroism: he was “a Jew who could not be rattled by time into even that
most forgivable form of levity, namely distrust of the Aiberishter [God] on account of personal
suffering.” Joshua Rosenfeld testified that “the Rebbe taught us the irreducible nature of faith.
Even in the heart of darkness, he uncovered the potency of faith that rests specifically there. In a
world that has lost its way, the path of the Rebbe remains the impossible hope at the core of
hopelessness itself.”

Many other followers identify with the Rebbe’s searing honesty and authenticity, reflected most
clearly in his personal spiritual journal, Tsav Ve-Zeruz, in which he remarkably lays bare all his
doubts and fears, without sacrificing his awesome faith in God. One of the most oft-quoted
passages portrays his self-doubt (translation by Yehoshua Starrett):

“Thank God…in a few months it will be my fortieth birthday. After that begins the decline of life,
the beginnings of my old age. I am afraid. Very afraid. Not so much from the inevitable passing
of my life but from the spiritual poverty of my years do I shudder: they are gone and past, empty
and void, wasted on childish games…But to what shall I commit myself? To learn more? I think
that as far as possible, I don’t waste any time. To abstain from physical pleasures? If my own
desires are not fooling me, thank God, I am not so attached to them. So what am I missing? Simply
to be a Jew. I see myself as a self-portrait that shows all colors and features real to life. Just one
thing is missing: the soul.”

Close readings of his published, public documents reveal fascinating overlaps between internal
musings like this and their creative transformation into messages that bolstered the spirits of his
followers.

I think most of us, however, see in the Rebbe a warm and understanding guide for personal spiritual
development despite adversity, as Nate Fein put it in a recent discussion in Pesach Sommer’s
popular Facebook group dedicated to the Rebbe: “I feel like he’s leading me down a path that not
only can I achieve, but one that he himself walked.” Rabbi Yoel Rubin echoed the feeling of many
of us when he wrote, “The Rebbe has built a Bridge between the heart and mind, opening up new
vistas and horizons. Upon learning his Seforim one can get the feeling of a father taking his little
son by the hand, on a road trip together to teach him about life and the universe around us…His
ideas are like a very deep wellspring which is brought up to the surface, giving it the notion of
simplicity and the encouragement of ‘I Believe In You. You can do it.’”

The Rebbe’s Torah from the Holocaust is indeed a remarkable legacy of his genius. For those of
us who know his writings well, however, it is his prewar work that gives us the true measure of
his stature. I am, for example, not a Hasid — my family background is Lithuanian via Canada, and

57
I prefer the standard Ashkenazi prayer book. Yet when an older man in shul the other day asked
me “which kind of Hasid I was” — I immediately, and instinctively, answered “Piaseczno.”

May his memory be a blessing.

58
 16

16
https://www.academia.edu/55609947/Shaul_Magid_Covenantal_Rupture_and_Broken_Faith_in_Esh_Kodesh_

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 Weeping as a Sacred Text17
Finding myself suddenly weeping
unexpectedly
in the middle of nowhere
no trigger
no obvious cause

A weeping welling up from interior dark spaces

(really, do we need to go there yet again!
examined a thousand times
wounds still raw…
despite endless analysis)

No, this weeping seems to have come from a different place

a place of no-hope,
of finding no-love,
and a realization that all along there had been no-connection.

A place of ultimate darkness and dread,

a knife-edged living, on this razor sharp perch,
with the possibility of falling any moment
into the abyss, for any given trigger.
Of no longer being able to fight off the enemy,
having struggled too long,

17
https://www.academia.edu/8206850/Weeping_as_a_Text, Julian Ungar-Sargon Aug 2014

87
and the unravelling of decades of self-deception.

Weeping for the childish dreams that never materialized

yet which formed the very basis of my existence and yearning and hope
the adolescent love that exhausted me for months on end but never fulfilled
even now.
For the illusion that in all that effort the profit had meant something
the growing realization that all the so-called accomplishments meant for naught
nothing lasting,
no trace of this life,
no legacy or self worth-worth preserving.

A grief so deep,
for a life thus wasted
having fooled so many for so long
(or maybe not),
now no longer able to keep the mirage
the prosecutor is fully apprised
the mirror is now cracked
revealing a Dorian Grey of immense decrepitude
and senile rotting.

This life
this text
this pursuit of unattainable goals,
all the neurotic obsessive pursuit of texts, tractates, treatises, sermons
thinking delusion-ally
that somehow some answer, some awakening, would magically
calm and alleviate the original wound,
yet in the end evoked no response,
no lightness of being
no inspirational light
no internalization of ideals morals or role models.
leaving me only mistrust of Rabbis lecturers, mentors
and the gnawing Doubting Thomas pointing into the fleshy bloody wound.

This emptiness
this nothingness,
this gaping hole in the heart of reality
the screaming silence,
puncture by only the sobs

All this wells up as I grieve

over this lost life.

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