Old Leaders in a New World
On Parshas Chukas and the consequences of hitting a rock
Check out the Orthodox Union's parsha learning app: All Parsha for the accompanying shiur to Reading Jewish History in the Parsha.
Steve Max is a professional “Simon Says” game announcer. I’m not sure if that is what he calls himself, but watching him conduct a game of Simon Says is a revelation. You’re probably familiar with the game from childhood. There’s a leader who gives instructions, but you are only supposed to follow the instructions if they are prefaced with the words “Simon says.” Steve Max has made a career out of Simon Says—but he doesn’t play with children—he plays with adults!
When Steve is running the game, it can get pretty hard to keep up!
Simply following instructions is not so simple.
Still, in our parsha, Moshe’s inability to follow God’s instructions is bewildering.
Following the death of his sister Miriam, the Jewish People ask Moshe to provide them with water. For nearly their entire time in the desert, water was miraculously provided for the Jewish People on the merit of Miriam. Now that Miriam had passed there was no water and the Jewish People were parched.
“If only we had perished with our brothers,” they complain.
Moshe asks God what do to.
God gives clear instructions, “Take your staff and go speak to the rock and water will pour forth from it.”
Moshe, however, does not quite follow God’s instructions.
Instead of speaking to the rock, Moshe hits the rock, and because of this divergence from God’s instructions, Moshe is told that he will no longer be the leader to bring the Jewish People into the land of Israel.
Why is Moshe’s punishment so harsh? God did tell him to take his staff with him—is it such a big deal that he used the staff to strike the rock rather than speak to it? How could such a small difference justify this cataclysmic shift in Jewish history?
To understand Moshe’s mistake and punishment, let’s explore the transitional Jewish leadership from Europe into the United States of America.
From the 1880s until the 1920s, Jewish immigration from Europe to America accelerated. Jews who had preserved a certain way of life in Europe for over a millennium were suddenly confronting a new world. And while Jewish immigrants from Europe adapted and adopted many of the American sensibilities, there was still an enduring association with European Jewry as more authentic.
In fact, Zev Segal and Menahem Blondheim traced how American Jews interacted with their European counterparts by analyzing responsa literature and plotting out where geographically religious questions were sent. The distinguishing aspect of American Jews,” they write, “both as an immigrant group and religious group in America, was precisely their awareness, interest, and connectedness to their coreligionists abroad.” American Jews needed to be tethered to European Jewry to maintain some semblance of authenticity in their own lives.
So it is no surprise that when (some) American Jews wanted a chief rabbi—a familiar position from Europe—they turned to rabbinic candidates abroad. In the late 1870’s Beth Hamidrash Hagadol, the first Russian American Jewish congregation decided to hire a chief rabbi. They chose the eminent scholar Rabbi Meir Leibush, better known by the acronym Malbim which adorns his popular works still studied today. His potential candidacy caused a stir with a newspaper article entitled “A New Movement,” announcing “We have been informed that a movement is on foot having for its object the establishment of the office of Chief Rabbi and Beth Din for all congregations of the United States that wish to join it.”
Not everyone was excited. Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise, leader of the Reform movement in the United States was skeptical. “He appears not to have the slightest idea of the wants and demands of this age,” Wise remarked, “he would be played out in New York four weeks after his arrival.”
As it turned out, Rabbi Wise was wrong—he never even made it to the United States, let alone lasted four weeks. The Malbim, who was already 70 years old at the time the position was offered, passed away in September of 1879.
But the search for a chief rabbi continued. More congregations banded together in the hopes of attracting a seminal rabbinic personality who would influence American Jewry. Most importantly, they wanted a rabbi who would bring some order and authority to kosher supervision, a field that was rife with fraud and abuse.
Another candidate that was suggested—pushed heavily by leading rabbinic figures in Europe—was Rav Zvi Hirsch, son of Rav Yitzchak Elchonon Spector of Kovno, the leading rabbinic figure in the world at the time. Rav Yitzchak Elchonon himself endorsed his son’s candidacy. The Jewish American community, however, was not so convinced. Rumors began to circulate that Rav Zvi Hirsch had amassed massive debts from failed business ventures as well as a broken marriage after his wife had gone mad, and many of the American leaders felt put upon. This didn’t sound like European Jewry’s finest, it felt like America instead might be his escape from a failed rabbinic career.
Instead, the association charged with hiring a chief rabbi turned to Rabbi Jacob Joseph (Yaakov Yosef), a well-known Rav and speaker from the eminent town of Vilna. For the American Jewish community, Rabbi Jacob Joseph of Vilna—a student of both the Netziv and Rav Yisroel Salanter—would add prestige and authority, and for Rabbi Jacob Joseph the promises of an American salary would greatly ease his dire financial situation. And so on Shabbos morning July 7th, 1888 Rabbi Jacob Joseph finally arrived on American shores. After waiting for Shabbos to end and davening maariv, Rabbi Jacob Joseph was joyfully greeted at a reception by members of the synagogue that the newly arrived rabbi would now lead.
While many were excited, seeds of cynicism began emerging about the Chief Rabbi. “What is a chief rabbi to do,” a column in the American Israelite asked, “a man who can speak neither German nor English and whose vernacular is an unintelligible jargon, cannot be a fitting representative of Orthodox Judaism to the world at large.” Another newspaper asked, “What do we need of an immigrant and prejudiced rabbi?” Instead, the paper suggested, “he should go back to the land that gave him birth.” Concerns of the cultural divide became more and more pronounced. The periodical Jewish Tidings gave a more fulsome statement of concern:
Rabbi Joseph is unfamiliar with the language of this country and is therefore unfitted to exercise authority or influence over American Jews. The Jews of this country do not need a Grand Rabbi and one from a foreign country; one who is reared among the prejudices and bigotries of the Eastern countries will certainly prove an obstacle to the people over whom he is expected to exercise control.
Could a leading European rabbi reach the congregants in the New World? They would soon find out at Rabbi Jacob Joseph’s first public address on Shabbos Nachamu. His first address was a success, changing quite a few minds who previously opposed the idea of a chief rabbi in the United States. Over a thousand people attended and it was reported in the New York Times.
Their enthusiasm sadly would not last.
Rabbi Jacob Joseph’s foray into the world of kosher supervision was marred with conflict from the very beginning. Concerned that it would be seen as a kosher tax, the Chief Rabbi opposed directly charging consumers for kosher supervision. After businessmen explained that they needed some form of revenue, Rabbi Jacob Joseph compromised and only implemented a charge on chicken, which as opposed to meat was seen as a delicacy for the wealthy. The one-cent charge for the plumbe, the metal tag attached to the chicken certifying its kashrus, upset nearly everyone—consumers, other rabbis, and leaders in the kosher industry. One newspaper ran a biting poem mocking the new kosher initiative:
Dance, orthodox chickens;
Make merry, have no fear
For the Rabbi an order has issued
Shiny lead medals you’ll wear.
You’ll wear them after your slaughter
That the Chief Rabbi may live;
They flay the skin off the worker
—A fat salary the Great One to give.
Rabbi Jacob Joseph did not punch back. He warned that “those who oppose my regulations are nonetheless to be treated with humane consideration.”
The Chief Rabbi’s situation continued to deteriorate. Trust was eroding quickly and many congregations that had previously contributed to the Chief Rabbi’s salary began skipping payments.
His health began to deteriorate as well. When I studied in Ner Yisroel I remember hearing from Rabbi Frand the alleged story of his last sermon, given for Shabbos Shuva. Subsequently, I found Rabbi Riskind was also fond of this story, though the veracity of some of the details has been questioned by my friend and historian Zev Eleff. Either way, the story is told that in his last sermon, Rabbi Jacob Joseph began his speech, “Ladies and gentleman, ladies and gentleman, ladies and gentleman.” He kept on repeating himself. He was stuck. The crowd was quiet. And then Rabbi Jacob Joseph decided not to say his sermon. Instead, he said:
I prepared this sermon so carefully first in the hospital and later I got out, but now I have no recollection of what I prepared. I can’t even read my own writing. My masters, this is what a human being is. This can happen to any of you. Repent before it is too late.
And with that, he left. Whether or not he ever said these words, they certainly echo in the story of his life. He spent most of the end of his life bedridden, eventually passing on July 28th, 1902, the 24th of Tamuz. Even in death, he could not find peace—riots broke out during his funeral by those still disgruntled over his kosher policies.
In 1888, Abraham Cahan published an article “The Chief Rabbi’s Sermon,” included in Zev Eleff’s wonderful anthology, Modern Orthodox Judaism: A Documentary History, reflecting on Rabbi Jacob Joseph’s tenure thus far:
It was only his second or third sermon since his arrival and already he was making clumsy attempts to accommodate himself to his audience by using American Yiddish. Once he used the word “clean” for “rein,” and it was easy to see this was purposely done to show he was not a greenhorn. His efforts to acquire social polish failed.
At one point he reached for a handkerchief in his pocket. It began to come out, long and blue. He was suddenly embarrassed and struggled to put the handkerchief back into his rear pocket. It twisted around his hand. In desperation, he put the handkerchief on the lectern and soon had both his hands entangled in it. His American sounded unnatural. It was a pity.
I surveyed the congregation. Almost all around were men dressed in a fine American style: pressed suits, starched collars, neckties and cuffs, clean-shaven and spruced up. The rough edges of a small East European congregation had been replaced with American polish and sophistication. They looked upon their Chief Rabbi and decided he was a greenhorn.
Rab Yankel Yosef was like a plant torn out of the soil and transplanted into a hothouse. His health deteriorated. He suffered a paralytic stroke.
Rabbi Jacob Joseph was not alone in his difficulty adjusting to American sensibilities. As Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff details, Rabbi Yaakov Dovid Wilovsky, known as the Ridbaz, faced similar disappointment during his brief tenure as the Chief Rabbi of Chicago. Ultimately, not all European rabbis could adjust to America. Professor Jeffery Gurock, noted historian of American Jewish history, classified rabbis in that era across a spectrum from resistors to accommodators. Rabbi Jacob Joseph was decidedly of the former.
In many ways this tension paved the way for the Judaism we know today. As Menahem Blondheim writes in his article, Divine Comedy: The Jewish Orthodox Sermon in America, 1881-1939:
The collapse of Old World structures of authority and power and the democratization of social and institutional life as experienced by Orthodox immigrants, made way for a congruent democratization of religious life and of its characteristic forms and practices.
And this brings us back to Moshe and the rock.
Rav Tzadok writes something fascinating:
והיינו לפי שפרנסם היה משה רבינו ע"השהיה חביב מכל הפרנסים כמו שנאמר ולא קם וגו' כך דורו שהם עצמות נפשו רק שחלוקה לפרטים חביב מכל הדורות, ואם כן כמו שמשה רבינו ע"הנפשו כולל כל התורה שבכתב כך פרטי נפשות דורו והם דור מתי מדבר היו פרטי כל התורה שבכתב כולה
אבל הכניסה לארץ הוא הנהגה טבעיית שיקבלו חייהם על פסוק טבע ומנהג דרך ארץ בחרישה וזריעה וקצירה שדבר זה נראה כנפרד מההכרה שהכל מהשם יתברך, רק על זה היה הענין מתן הארץ שאוירא דארץ ישראל מחכימם (כמה שכתוב בבא בתרא קנ"ח.) בזה בחכמת האמת (עיין בראשית רבה פט"ז) להכיר שגם מה שהם מסוגלים בהשתדלותם מרכוש ומזון הכל הוא מהשם יתברך
The generation that wandered in the desert experienced daily miracles, sustained by God. During that time, they needed a miraculous leader, Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest of all prophets. However, when the Jewish People entered the Land of Israel, their lives changed dramatically. They were no longer sustained by open miracles and had to see Godliness in their own efforts to conquer and develop a new society. For this, they needed new leadership. A prophet who spoke directly with God would not be the one to teach them how to see divinity within the natural world.
And this is how the Maharal explains the importance of speaking to the rock rather than hitting it. Why should it matter how an inanimate rock miraculously produces water? The difference lay not in the method of the miracle but in two distinct forms of leadership. The Jewish People needed a leader who could inspire through words, not through frustration and force. Moshe’s punishment was not “so harsh,” but rather it was a natural consequence of his actions that showed he was not the right leader for the Jewish People in the Land of Israel. Once they entered the Land of Israel, they required new leadership suited for a new environment—one that could speak to them in a way that opened their hearts.
Bonus Addendum
My dear friend, Rabbi Ben Greenfield, had an incredible thread on social media a few years ago that explored the connection between the story of Moshe hitting the rock and the death of his sister Miriam. It is quite moving and fits nicely into the approach above. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to develop the connection or even write out his approach, but it is worth taking a look here (or if you prefer here is the thread unrolled in one long essay).
Shabbos Reads — Books/Articles Mentioned
Jewish Continuity in America: Creative Survival in a Free Society, Abraham Karp
America on the Responsa Map: Hasidim, Mitnagdim, and the Trans-Atlantic Social Network of Religious Authority, Zev Segal and Menahem Blondheim
Divine Comedy: The Jewish Orthodox Sermon in America, 1881-1939, Menahem Blondheim
The Malbim of Manhattan, Dovi Safier and Yehuda Geberer
The Lower East Side Riot, Allan Levine
The American Sojourns of Ridbaz: Religious Problems within the Immigrant Community, Aaron Rothkoff
Resisters and Accommodators: Varieties of Orthodox Rabbis in America, 1886-1983, Jeffrey S. Gurock
Check out All Parsha, where you can find weekly audio of Reading Jewish History in the Parsha and other incredible presenters and amazing features that will enhance your Parsha journey!
Reading Jewish History in the Parsha has been generously sponsored by my dearest friends Janet and Lior Hod and family with immense gratitude to Hashem.