After the Passing of Maran Rabbi Shach, of Blessed Memory
MiMidbar Matana – 2001
For the past hundred and four years, until Friday, the eve of the holy Sabbath of this week’s Torah portion Vayera, there lived in this world (moving about it only with difficulty) an elderly Jew such that anywhere in the world, if you said ‘the rosh yeshiva,’ everyone knew you meant him. Today there is no longer anyone like that. There are now people in the world who have merited the title ‘rosh ha-yeshiva,’ but not even one who is called ‘the rosh yeshiva’ (except through a linguistic solecism).
There is a difference between the two expressions: ‘rosh ha-yeshiva’ and ‘the rosh yeshiva.’ At first glance, only the placement (mistaken?) of the definite article distinguishes between the two expressions, but in fact there is an abyssal difference between them. The expression ‘rosh ha-yeshiva’ denotes a figure who stands at the head of a particular yeshiva, when usually it is clear from the context which yeshiva that is. By contrast, the term ‘the rosh yeshiva’ describes a person who is distinguished from among all the yeshiva heads (without, of course, detracting from any of the others). The definite article refers to the collection of yeshiva heads, not to the collection of yeshivas.
In the expression ‘rosh ha-yeshiva,’ the yeshiva defines its head. One who knows which yeshiva is under discussion knows to whom the expression ‘rosh ha-yeshiva’ refers. By contrast, in the term ‘the rosh yeshiva,’ the head defines the yeshiva. It is clear who the head is, and we can therefore infer which yeshiva he stands at the head of.
Because of this distinction between the terms, it seems to me that every yeshiva student of the last two generations can call Rabbi Shach ‘the rosh yeshiva,’ without any contradiction to his own ‘rosh ha-yeshiva’ (may he live a good and long life, amen).
Rabbi Shach symbolized and embodied uncompromising devotion to Torah. All his life he engaged, with extraordinary self-sacrifice, in Torah study and in teaching Torah. At the same time, there was in him a complete self-effacement before the community as a whole. He had no private life whatsoever. His door was open, with no set reception hours at all, to offer encouragement and counsel to every person and every broken soul in every area of life, while at the same time momentous decisions affecting the public also arrived at his doorstep. I know someone who asked him where it would be best to open a kiosk, on one street corner or another. Every child or young man who felt any pain at all came to him for a blessing and for advice. He was ‘a servant to a holy people on holy soil,’ in the literal sense. I feel that today we no longer know a Torah giant of this kind. Rabbi Shach belonged to earlier generations, in very many respects.
His self-effacement before Torah, before the Giver of the Torah, and before His people sometimes led him to sharp expressions, and to an uncompromising struggle against ideas and people that seemed to him to endanger Torah as he understood it. This was open rebuke and hidden love, in the sense of "Whomever He loves…He reproves" (‘whom He loves… He rebukes’). Quite often, among other targets, these sharp expressions were directed at the Religious Zionist community, a fact that can cast a shadow over our attitude toward him.
It is told of the author of the Sefat Emet that he emerged from the room of his grandfather, the author of Chiddushei HaRim, after receiving stern rebukes, radiant with joy. When his friend asked him why he was so jubilant, the Sefat Emet replied: Is it a small matter in your eyes to merit a rebuke from the mouth of the author of Chiddushei HaRim?! "Fortunate are you, Israel: before whom are you purified, and who purifies you?" (‘Happy are you, Israel: before whom are you purified, and who purifies you?’).
Anyone who knew ‘the rosh yeshiva,’ of blessed memory, knew that all his deeds were for the sake of Heaven. He was prepared to pay a heavy price for his views and his leadership, and literally derived no enjoyment from this world, not even as much as a hair’s breadth. Rabbi Shach conducted himself with fiercely principled integrity. He guarded himself with the utmost vigilance against any personal benefit whatsoever, for himself or for his relatives. They say that when he died, all he bequeathed to his descendants was a pair of phylacteries (I myself can testify that this is certainly close to the truth, and probably the literal truth). One should remember that we are speaking of a man to whom many offered the best the land had to offer, and were prepared to serve him in whatever he desired, and he always refused. In his apartment (which also did not belong to him) there was almost nothing besides a rickety wooden bench, a table, and a bed in not much better condition, and the like. Such a great man is not suspect of personal interests, and certainly everything he did was for the sake of Heaven.
Fortunate are we that we merited to be chastened (and perhaps also purified) by his lips. May it be God’s will that he be an advocate on our behalf and on behalf of all Israel.