Modern Orthodox Gadol Stories?

Our teachers matter. In fact, in some ways, they may be the most important people in our lives. Our teachers - good and bad - have lasting impacts on not only how we act but on who we are. This is especially true in Judaism, with its focus on following the rulings of teachers. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, for example, reflected as follows:

Without question, during my formative years and, to a lesser extent, beyond, the source and bulwark of my commitment was not so much a cluster of abstract factors or arguments as key persons. This may make my response less valuable for readers who have no access to my sources of strength and inspiration. Moreover, such a response raises obvious questions about determinism and inequity which, in a different context, would need to be addressed philosophically. But any other would be not only partial but false.

I refer, of course, to those who, in the words of the Mishnah, put me on the path to temporal and eternal life: my parents, zecher tzaddikim l’verachah, who were also my primary (in several senses of the term) teachers; and my rebbeim, of whom three–Rav Hutner, the Rav and Rav Aaron Soloveichik, zecher tzaddikim l’verachah–stand out far above the rest. At home, I received trust and strength, imbibed (although did not always implement in youth) a work ethic, and initially breathed an atmosphere within which a balance between criticism and rootedness was consistently maintained. Both my parents, each in his own way, habitually raised serious questions about the religious world or about various textual or philosophic aspects of Torah–but always radiated a sense of profoundly engaged commitment.

…

What I received from all my mentors, at home or in yeshivot, was the key to confronting life, particularly modern life, in all its complexity: the recognition that it was not so necessary to have all the answers as to learn to live with the questions. Regardless of what issues–moral, theological, textual or historical–vexed me, I was confident that they had been raised by masters far sharper and wiser than myself; and if they had remained impregnably steadfast in their commitment, so should and could I. I intuited that, his categorical formulations and imperial certitude notwithstanding, Rav Hutner had surely confronted whatever questions occurred to me. Later, I felt virtually certain the Rav had, so that the depth and intensity of their avodat Hashem was doubly reassuring.

Inversely, Professor Joseph Levine of UMass - Amherst reflected in the book Philosophy Without God on how Rav Simcha Wasserman’s radiation of authenticity helped to convince him that his own religious life was inauthentic:

It’s extremely hard to explain what it was like to be in the presence of a man like Rabbi Wasserman as he lectured on a passage of Talmud. Of course, he had the appearance one expected from any yeshiva rabbi—beard, black yarmulke, worn suit, general Eastern European facial features. But the really special ones, like Rabbi Wasserman, had a sparkle in their eyes, and exuded a warmth and spiritual joy that, combined with penetrating intellectual power and a keen sense of irony and humor, was spellbinding. Even as a small child I could see what distinguished him from others who looked the look and talked the talk but didn’t really have that something special that made them stand out. Having this encounter with the genuine article at this age, someone who instantiated what was best about the tradition that produced him— as it were, the ‘‘form’’ of the yeshiva rabbinical scholar—left an indelible impression on me…

it was precisely this appreciation of authenticity, instilled in me by my exposure to figures like Rabbi Wasserman, that eventually played a major role in causing me to lose my faith in the doctrines they taught me.

It’s for this reason that the stories passed down about gedolim matter so much. And yet written gedolim stories, at least in North America, are usually considered an Ultra-Orthodox trope. I’d even go so far as to say that they tend to leave a bad taste in Modern Orthodoxy because thinkers like Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schacter and Professor Marc Shapiro have convincingly demonstrated how unreliable they can be. This fascinating interview on 18Forty with Yonasan Rosenblum (author of many Artscroll gadol biographies) also delves deeply into the subject.

Despite these criticisms, though, I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for gadol stories. When I was first learning at Ohr Somayach in Monsey, I found inspiration in such stories that propelled to take learning more seriously and increase my religious commitments. It’s with that background in mind that I was fascinated to come across The Warmth and Radiance of Gedolei Yisroel: Personal Accounts, Encounters, and Experiences (Mosaica Press 2023) by Rabbi Avishai David. The title sounds like any other collection of gadol stories, but Rabbi David is Rosh Yeshiva of Torat Shraga, wrote a sefer of parsha articles based on Rav Soloveitchik’s shiurim, and this book’s approbations are from Rabbis Asher Weiss, Hershel Schachter, and Mordechai Willig. Furthermore, the table of contents reveals that its subjects include (but are not limited to) Rabbis Dovid Lifshitz, Moshe Feinstein, Aharon Lichtenstein, Aharon Soloveichik, Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, Avraham Pam, Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, Refoel Soloveitchik, Yaakov Kamenetsky, Gedaliah Felder, and Avigdor Nebenzahl.

In addition to this eclectic mix of gedolim, Rabbi David is unafraid of telling stories that typically would not be included in such works. Rabbi JJ Schachter, for example, noted that Yated Ne’eman once ran a biography of Rav Dessler that included a line saying that while being homeschooled his father “included general studies in the curriculum. Among these were some classics of world literature in Russian translation. One of them (so Rabbi Dessler told me) was Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” This inclusion received harsh criticism because a frum publication must “maintain a constant vigilance over every sentence and phrase that it publishes, in order to ensure that emunah, Torah and yiras Shomayim shall be strengthened” and that “the references to ‘some classics of world literature in Russian translation,’ etc. ‘including Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ will not strengthen emunah, Torah and yiras Shomayim in any one of your readers.” Rosenblum also noted in his 18Forty interview that one publisher would not move forward with his biograph of Rav Noach Weinberg because a chapter was deemed to be too divisive (it was later published by Mosaica Press).

Knowing that, Rabbi David’s collection is incredibly refreshing. For example, consider this anecdote about Rav Aharon Soloveichik and Rav Aharon Lichtenstein:

A great rosh yeshiva, Harav Aharon Lichtenstein, stated that without having read Spenser’s The Fairie Queene, one cannot achieve certain virtues, and that there is little parallel to this in our sources. I was taken aback by his statement that I heard as a very young man, and I shared my reservations with Harav Aharon Soloveitchik [sic], telling him that I thought a careful learning and saying of Tehilim, lehavdil, could be just as effective. Harav Aharon Soloveitchik immediately proceeded to go over to Harav Aharon Lichtenstein and discussed it with him at great length.

The moment that Harav Aharon Lichtenstein espied Harav Aharon Soloveitchik [sic] approaching him, he stood up melo komaso, and I have rarely seen such yiras ha’kavod from one Gadol to another in my entire life. The discussion was fascinating, comprehensive, and enthralling, covering the gamut of maamarei Tanach and in general the value of literature of a secular nature.

At one point, Harav Aharon Lichtenstein asked Harav Aharon Soloveitchik if he had read The Fairie Queene, and his response was, “Of course; it would be impudent and imprudent for me to discuss it with you otherwise.”

Another unconventional story is told about Rav Lichtenstein playing sports:

Harav Lichtenstein was also someone who from time to time indulged in playing basketball as a kind of recreation. What again was astounding was that he was a very “clean” player, and we witnessed on several occasions that when he was fouled by others, he would apologize to the other offender. His middos were beyond the average human being and bordered on the angelic.

These sorts of stories are not limited to Modern Orthodox gedolim alone though. Take, for example, this one about a “crossover” between Rav Lichtenstein and Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach:

I heard from a number of people that Harav Shlomo Zalman stood up completely when Harav Lichtenstein would enter. How refreshing it is to see a Gadol baTorah who welcomes every Jew, irrespective of his ideological, philosophical, hashkafic framework and recognizes and acknowledges the colorful kaleidoscope of Klal Yisrael with its diverse Torah hashkafoc and lifestyles, bound in commonality by an unbridled commitment to Hashem and his Torah.

Another fascinating story (this one first-hand) features Rav Pam:

Once, he came to St. Louis, Missouri, to be the featured speaker for the investiture of Harav Shalom Rivkin as the Chief Rabbi of the city. The festive event drew a massive crowd at a well-known hotel. After being introduced by the master of ceremonies, Harav Pam began speaking in Yiddish… the MC appeared and gave him a short note. He immediately switched to English, apologized profusely to the audience, and stated that he instinctively spoke in Yiddish because all his shiurim are in that language. However, he unapologetically stated, “I am a proud graduate of Brooklyn College and speak English fluently.” His honesty was refreshingly breathtaking, and he then spoke with great eloquence on this festive occasion.

One anecdote that particularly stuck out to me, as someone who lived only blocks away from Shomrai Shabbos in Toronto, involved Rav Gedalia Felder’s friendships:

Harav Felder was an incredibly erudite, great talmid chacham whose European roots were patently evident in his mensclichkeit and warmth. He was very accessible to everyone and, due to his noble and gracious personality, was able to navigate the shoals of the complex Jewish world and maintain cordial relationships even with members of the non-Orthodox rabbinate. His friendship was such that even the non-Orthodox synagogues were under the kashrus/aegis of the COR in Canada. He did so without compromising halachic standards. This was a testament to his uncanny, masterful navigation skills of authentic friendship with all types of clergy while presenting a model par excellence of real authentic Torah Judaism.

Back in the Religious Zionist world, one last story that I appreciated was of an interaction between Rabbi David and Rav Nebenzahl:

When I had gnawing doubts about moving from Beit Shemesh to Ramat Beit Shemesh, which left me in a quandary for a protracted period of time, I wrestled with the issue day and night. At one point, unbeknownst to me at the time, my rebbetzin went to speak to him about this potential move. He basically acquiesced with her position to move.

One day, I received a phone call, and the called said, “Nebenzahl speaking.”

I asked, “Who is speaking?”

He responded, “Have you forgotten all the sichos you heard and the multitude of discussions you had with me over the years?”

I was speechless and tongue-tied and mortified. When I recovered, I said to him, “Harav, I don’t want to give up my shteller [as rav of a shul].”

He responded, “You’re obligated to be mesamei’ach your wife, and I assure you that you will find a comparable position in a few short weeks - three.”

I then presumptuously asked him, “Is this a havtachah, nevuah, or berachah?”

He responded, “Whatever fits.”

Somehow Rabbi David manages to strike the perfect balance between feeling like a classic collection of gadol stories while emphasizing the values of Modern Orthodoxy. While there are a handful of grammatical errors (no doubt the result of how long the author has been in Israel), the impact that each gadol had on Rabbi David is felt on every page. The choice to examine each figure in the order of when he met them also helps to give readers a sense of identification throughout the book.

Bar-Ilan University’s Professor Adam Ferziger wrote in his book Beyond Sectarianism that a particular YU Rosh Yeshiva was “dedicated to advancing a hybrid Orthodoxy that is heavily influenced by Haredi ideals but remains situated within a Modern Orthodox milieu… to bolster a conservative line without necessarily erasing the boundaries that continue to distinguish his camp from its Haredi co-religionists.” To the extent that such a characterization is correct, a similar one could be made about The Warmth and Radiance of Gedolei Yisroel. It reads like a chareidi hagiography collection and yet tells stories that are decidedly Modern Orthodox in nature. The importance of appreciating Torah, madda, and middos is felt on every page. As someone who feels nostalgic towards a chareidi approach to Judaism yet who cannot help but identify philosophically with Modern Orthodoxy, this book is a true work of art and a needed breath of fresh air. I can’t promise that it’s for everyone, but I think it occupies a unique enough space on the bookshelf to be well worth recommending.