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IN-DEPTH FEATURES
Part Two
Introduction: Manifold Burdens
In this continuation of our look at HaRav Diskin
zt'l's life, we examine his years in Yerushalayim,
where he lived and taught for the last quarter century of his
life.
Perhaps the most striking feature of the picture which
emerges is how one person could be so completely devoted to
so many different roles and activities. HaRav Diskin's
commitment to the yeshiva, to his shiurim and to his
talmidim was total, yet it did not preclude his
maintaining long-term relationships with past talmidim
and with involvement in a range of major communal
undertakings outside the yeshiva.
We have already seen that when it came to spreading and
strengthening Torah, he was utterly selfless and was willing
to do anything and everything in his power, without a thought
for his own prestige, or even for recognition. This negation,
or more correctly sublimation, of self is the key to
understanding his ability to fill so many diverse roles at
once and yet to make them all expressions of his basic drive:
to support and further Torah in every possible way.
We continue our presentation of the recollections of his
family, friends and disciples, interspersing them as before
with extracts from a hesped delivered by
ylct'a HaRav Boruch Shmuel Deutsch.
And Raise Many Talmidim
Despite the extent to which he disseminated Torah, we were
always astonished anew -- with no exaggeration -- at the
speed of his comprehension and his tremendous abilities. The
person he was speaking to would just open his mouth and Rav
Shimon Moshe would already grasp what he wanted to ask and
would answer him in a flash. It happened all the time that we
would be sitting and discussing a particular topic, while he
would complete his reflections and arrive at his conclusions,
with amazing speed.
Yet all this notwithstanding, when a bochur
approached him with a question, he would descend to the
questioner's level and say, "Let's think about your
difficulty . . ." It often appeared as though he was hearing
the question for the first time. He gave up hours and hours
for this. Countless talmidei chachomim acknowledge
that they received their approach and their direction in
learning from Rav Shimon Moshe, as well as their desire to
produce chiddushim and the idea that one can and
should find chiddushim in every part of Torah . . .
Rav Shimon Moshe's shiurim and chaburos were
renowned for their straight, clear thinking and the solid
principles upon which the ideas they conveyed were built.
Many of the talmidim felt that it was Rav Shimon
Moshe who put them on their feet in their own learning and
many of them maintained close and regular contact with him
even years after they had left the yeshiva.
He had the wisdom and insight to grasp each talmid's
mentality and to see what points were causing difficulties.
He would then correct misconceptions and eliminate cloudy
thinking, leading each of them along the way they had to take
in order to reach the straight path. It was all done in a
warm, genial and friendly way. When speaking together in
learning, Rav Shimon Moshe was never condescending. He gave
each talmid the feeling that he was a colleague.
The yeshiva's board put Rav Shimon Moshe's gifts of insight
to good use in processing new applicants for the yeshiva.
They relied implicitly upon his evaluations at the entrance
examinations and he commented himself that he had virtually
never been wrong about a bochur. If it seemed hard at
first sight to justify Rav Shimon Moshe's verdict, time
usually showed that he had not been deceived.
A close talmid recalled the first time he approached
Rav Shimon Moshe for advice on how to learn. The first
question he was asked, before he'd finished speaking was,
"Are you a capable fellow?" The bochur was momentarily
confused and did not know what to say. After a very brief
silence, Rav Shimon Moshe simply said, "Okay. I already know
the answer. Carry on . . . !"
He felt that the yeshiva was his second (maybe even his
first) home and his involvement with his talmidim and
their progress went far beyond the minimum that was expected
of him. He arranged many private chavrusas with
bochurim in his own home and frequently came back to
the yeshiva at nights to speak in learning with the bnei
hayeshiva. He in fact asked a shailoh regarding
these evenings: was it better to spend them disseminating
Torah in the yeshiva, or to learn on his own, delving into
subjects that he wanted to learn in depth? The answer he
received was that public Torah study took precedence.
The extent to which he felt that he belonged in the yeshiva
was apparent to all during the last months of his life when
he would literally drag himself there, to talk in learning or
to deliver a shiur. He was so weak that at home, he
needed assistance with everything, yet to stop coming to
yeshiva was just not an option for him.
My Rebbe's Legacy: A Talmid's
Recollections
He held a monthly chabura in his home until almost the
end of his life, which I attended even ten years after my
marriage. First, one of the avreichim would speak on a
topic he'd prepared. Then Rav Shimon Moshe would speak. From
the moment he started, until he finished an hour or an hour
and a half later, the stream of chiddushim didn't
stop. He moved right from one thing to another, citing yet
another chiddush and another resolution and going
on.
He would go around all the avreichim asking each one
what he was learning. One was learning Bovo Kama,
another Zevochim . . . he'd home in to whatever
daf each one was on and instantly recall some
chiddush or piece in a Rishon on their
topic.
Sometimes when he met a bochur or an avreich
and asked to hear some novel thought that they'd arrived at
in the course of their learning, the response would be vague,
along the lines of, "Well, I'd started to think about such
and such . . . " or "to try and clarify why it is that . . .
"
Such responses pained him. "Why don't I hear a kushyoh
in the style of the Ketzos HaChoshen, Rabbi Akiva
Eiger, or the Brisker Rov?" he'd ask. "This is the kind of
learning we're waiting to see. Of course, it may be possible
to argue with your question or its premise, but the question
itself should be presented clearly, without hesitation. The
question should be clear; the problem is defined. I can
present how I understood things before the answer and what
has changed in my understanding after the answer."
It was not just a question of arranging one's thoughts but of
building the picture with precision, of knowing exactly what
one was saying. We learned Pesochim and in the
kibbutz [top] level, the bochurim delivered
chaburos every week. He asked, "Why are all the
bochurim picking the topic of Zeh vezeh gorem
to speak about? It's such a difficult, unclear topic. They
should pick simpler topics."
Of course, the work which a bochur invested was always
worthwhile, whatever the topic or the result, but he felt
that it would be much more beneficial for them to be working
on topics that gave them a better chance of attaining a high
degree of clarity.
I once either wrote or called him to ask how he delineated an
avreich's task [as opposed to that of a yeshiva
bochur] in learning a sugya. He replied, "One can
spend limitless time on each and every sugya. However,
one should learn in order to identify the points that need
further clarification, one should see what the
Rishonim and the Acharonim say . . . think a
little and then go on."
He used to say, "Once every three months one should prepare a
chabura. Take a topic that interests you, open up
seforim and look around, from morning until evening .
. . you should have the essential points of the topic clear,
not foggy. Then go on . . . "
He would urge us to look at things through a businessman's
eyes, in profit-and-loss terms. One can stay on one point
until one's strength gives out -- but think, "What will I
have gained?" A more precise way of putting something,
perhaps? One more question?
The question is, is it worth it? Do those profits justify
staying in one place, when one could achieve more if one
moved on to another topic? Would it not be more worthwhile to
make a much bigger gain? It's not simply a matter of being
able to cover more dapim. The point is, that one
shouldn't stay on one topic to the point where one dries up
but should continually look out for new ways to make profit .
. .
He would urge us to think about a kushyoh before
falling asleep, to take a lighter sefer, such as
Kehillos Yaakov or Divrei Yechezkel . . . not
to battle against oneself; rather to make a businesslike
reckoning and take what one naturally felt drawn towards,
where one stands to gain the most.
He once arrived in the hospital after having lost
consciousness. As he awoke, he started repeating a
shiur, with four different approaches to the topic,
which he'd prepared to say in the yeshiva. Someone asked him
if he'd really kept all that in his head during the hours
he'd been asleep? He replied, "If I'd been a chess player,
I'd have been thinking about my next move!"
He used to encourage us to broaden our horizons. As a
bochur, he once sent me to attend the engagement of a
friend who was in the same chabura. The engagement was
in Rechasim, a good few hours' ride by bus and it meant
spending the entire afternoon travelling in order to be
there. "What's the problem?" he asked, "Bitul Torah?
So take something for the way. He gave me several
kushyos to ask HaRav Uri Kellerman and told me to
bring him back the answers the following day. He wanted to
get us out of our insularity and get us used to other
people's approaches. He said that as bochurim, he and
his friends' idea of "fun" was to travel to other roshei
yeshiva and repeat their chiddushim to them.
He once wrote in Yated that he hoped that during
Chol Hamoed, bochurim would go and hear shiurim
from other roshei yeshiva. He wanted us to be able to
hear other approaches as well.
He gave us the ambition to produce chiddushim, to
broaden the scope of one's thought and to avoid getting
caught up. And he wanted a certain type of chiddushim
too, not mere sophistry over super-fine nuances but clear and
well defined ideas.
Font of Counsel
He devoted all his strength and abilities towards
benefiting others. Hundreds, [maybe] thousands of people,
both distinguished and ordinary, were helped by the wonderful
advice he gave. He was attuned to the feelings of those in
need. His thoughts were always on finding ways to extend both
material and spiritual help and support. His tremendous
abilities helped him find shrewd methods of so doing . . .
The work and the good deeds which he did for the klal
are famous, however I must say that what is known is only a
minute fraction of what he actually did. His honesty and
integrity are also well-known . . . he derived no personal
benefit whatsoever from any of his work, devoting himself to
communal matters wholly for the sake of Heaven . . . His
contribution was so great that even five men could not make
up for him. He took everything that he was involved in very
seriously, even though he tried to conceal his earnestness
with quips . . . (HaRav B.S. Deutsch)
Despite his intense application to learning and teaching, Rav
Shimon Moshe's heart remained wide open to the needs of
others and whenever approached, he would focus all of his
skills and warmth into assisting them. Many used to turn to
him for advice or mediation and he developed a reputation for
his wisdom and integrity.
As a result, over the years, he was asked to manage a number
of communal concerns, his suitability for providing the
necessary direction being unanimously agreed upon. For
example, when Talmud Torah Hamesorah, one of the oldest and
largest chadorim in Yerushalayim, was plunged into a
crisis that threatened its continued operation, it was HaRav
Shach ylct'a who personally called upon Rav Shimon
Moshe to act as the institution's advisory consultant, as
part of a rabbinical board, and provide the guidance that it
needed for its smooth functioning. Rav Shimon Moshe and the
other rabbonim on the board succeeded in their task and the
talmud Torah expanded to the point where it had
several branches and a combined student body numbering in the
thousands. His involvement continued even after the crisis
had been resolved. Rav Shimon Moshe kept a watchful eye open
and participated in weekly meetings and in the testing of the
students. In time, the talmud Torah gained a
reputation as being a top-notch elementary institution.
Rav Shimon Moshe commented on several occasions that
throughout his communal dealings -- which he conducted on a
purely voluntary basis -- he knew that he had remained wholly
untainted by any personal agenda. He would not think twice
about extending his assistance to Institution A, even if this
meant that his own children would thereby be deprived of some
other benefit. He was happy to forgo his own honor as well
and if the situation demanded it, he would personally attend
to mundane tasks, so that young children could learn
undisturbed.
He bore the full burden of his numerous and varied
appointments, faithfully discharging all the attendant
responsibilities. A friend once called to inform him about a
certain irregularity in one of the institutions which he
guided, and to ask him to see that it was dealt with. The
caller eventually discovered that the matter had indeed been
sorted out and he let Rav Shimon Moshe know.
Some time later, he wanted to make sure that Rav Shimon Moshe
remembered that the problem had been seen to, so that he
shouldn't deal with it by mistake and he reminded him that
things had been arranged. "It's true that there are certain
things that I forget and need to be reminded about," Rav
Shimon Moshe responded, "but this was something entirely
different. When you first told me that there was a problem in
that institution, it weighed upon me. Then, when you told me
that it had been sorted out, the yoke of dealing with it
disappeared. Do I need to be reminded that a yoke has been
taken off my shoulders?"
On the evening before Rav Shimon Moshe's petirah, one
of the communal workers received an urgent call from a
distraught Jew. "Save me!" cried the voice on the other end
of the line. "The man who supported me is dying. Who will
help me and the other families to whom Rav Diskin extended
secret assistance? Nobody knew about it. Please help to
ensure that we won't be left stranded cholila . . .
"
It was the night of bedikas chometz and everyone was
hurrying home from the beis haknesses to see to the
myriad preparations for the approaching Yom Tov. However,
there was no ignoring Rav Shimon Moshe, as he sat at a table
by the door in order to raise money for Kimcha
dePischa. His sons, who had come to the beis
haknesses, complained. Not only does he go from door to
door throughout the neighborhood, but to sit like this surely
compromises the honor due to him as a talmid chochom . . .
Rav Shimon Moshe simply answered that after all the
money collected for Kimcha dePischa had been
distributed, he had discovered another needy family who had
not been included in the distribution. "How could I stand by
and see their distress? I have to do everything in my power .
. . "
During the year of mourning after his father's
petirah, Rav Shimon Moshe would hurry to a
shul, where he would lead one of the many
minyanim that convened there for tefillah. Out
of the corner of his eye, he once noticed a young orphan who
was also trying to find an omud from which to lead a
minyan, but who kept getting pushed aside by his
seniors. "Here, daven here," said Rav Shimon Moshe,
turning over his own omud to the youngster. "I will
find another minyan." From then on, day after day and
month after month, Rav Shimon Moshe arrived at the beis
haknesses earlier in order to "reserve" an omud
for the orphan and only then did he look for one for
himself.
And that was not all. Since the boy had no father to care for
him and supervise him, Rav Shimon Moshe invited him to his
kollel and said, "You must need someone to prepare you
for the entrance test for yeshiva. Come in whenever you want
and I will help you to the best of my ability." When the boy
arrived, Rav Shimon Moshe explained to his chavrusa
that somebody important had come and that he had to learn
with him.
One of the luminaries of our generation recalled, "I used to
see him going to great trouble for various chassodim
and I asked him, `Reb Shimon Moshe, how far do your
obligations extend?!'
"He turned to me and said, `I didn't know that there is a
point where one can stop troubling oneself over
chesed.'
"For me," commented the talmid chochom, "that was a
lesson in both chesed and mussar!"
It was four-thirty a.m. The telephone rang in the home of one
of the rabbonim. Rav Shimon Moshe was on the line. "Since you
rise for vosikin, I allowed myself to call at such an
hour . . . That chesed matter which we discussed
yesterday simply didn't let me sleep. I think that now I've
got a solution though . . ."
Love and Respect for His Fellow Man
"Greet every person with a pleasant countenance" (Ovos
1:15) -- what a special welcome he had for all, young or
old! He was never angry and never raised his voice more than
the average.
Several years ago, in connection with one of the communal
projects he was dealing with, he was targeted by a group of
people who tried to offend him in a way that would have
disgraced the Torah's honor. When he found out about it, he
immediately sat down at his table and said Tehillim
for half an hour, so that he should chas vesholom
feel no personal grudge against them.
Once, when it was almost time to light the candles for
Shabbos erev Pesach, and the last minute preparations
were at their frenzied height, the telephone rang and a very
nervous and apologetic caller excused himself for calling at
such a pressured time . . . however he urgently needed some
brief information concerning a certain shidduch . . .
Rav Shimon Moshe first put the man at his ease and then
spoke slowly and calmly to him at length, to an even greater
extent than he usually did, in order to save him from the
discomfort that he felt for phoning at such a time which,
given the urgency with which he needed the information, he
had been justified in doing.
It was a motzei Shabbos and Rav Shimon Moshe was due
to fly to chutz lo'oretz that night for a dangerous
operation. Nervous family members kept coming in, the
expression on their faces betraying their fears that this
might be the last time they saw him. Suddenly, there was a
knock on the door. An old talmid had come to consult
his rebbe on a particular matter. Rav Shimon Moshe
took the young man into his room and spoke to him there for
approximately one and a half hours. Having received the
guidance he needed the talmid left, unaware to the
last minute that there were any special preparations underway
in the rav's home, lest he feel uncomfortable for having
imposed.
Rav Shimon Moshe's home was near a main road and the blare of
an ambulance siren could often be heard. When this happened,
he would interrupt his learning and say a perek of
Tehillim. A Jew was in trouble and he had an
obligation to help.
Once, when the news of a terrorist bombing attack R'l,
was received, before any precise information had been given,
he reached for his Tehillim and began praying
immediately. The details could wait but prayers could not.
The lives of fellow Jews were hanging in the balance.
A bochur who was new in the yeshiva approached Rav
Shimon Moshe and extended an invitation to his wedding.
Somewhat apologetically, the bochur explained that
although Rav Shimon Moshe barely knew him and the wedding
would be held far away, he was nevertheless inviting him.
"You are mistaken," Rav Shimon Moshe told him. "Your
invitation is very important to me. Even if I don't come to a
bochur's wedding, I rejoice with him during the time
of the chasunah. Therefore, I need the invitation."
When he arranged a time to meet someone, he took great pains
to arrive on time, so that no one would chas vesholom
have to wait for him. Once, he was an hour late for a meeting
due to circumstances over which he had no control whatsoever.
When he arrived, the man who had waited for him started to
grumble and to give him mussar about the delay. Rav
Shimon Moshe accepted the rebuke in silence. When the meeting
was over and the man had left, the person accompanying Rav
Shimon Moshe asked him, "I know that it was no fault of ours.
Why didn't you tell him that?"
Rav Shimon Moshe replied, "While he was waiting for me, all
his complaints built up inside him. It afforded him relief to
tell me them all. How could I spoil it for him by telling him
that it wasn't my fault?"
Simplicity, Humility and Concealment
Despite all his tremendous efforts to hide behind the mask
with which he covered himself -- the mask of an ordinary
member of the rank and file -- we who were close to him know
that he was a gaon of the type about which we read in
books. (HaRav B. S. Deutsch)
He tried his best to escape from being honored. When arriving
at the yeshiva on Simchas Torah, he entered by a side door so
that the bochurim would not sing in his honor when he
made his entrance. When about to enter a simcha, he
would look for someone with whom he could start to talk in
learning, and remain next to, in order to avoid being seated
by the hosts in a position of honor.
He used to say that in sitting by the mizrach, he was
being miskabeid bekolon chaveiro, attaining honor at
the expense of others, for without anyone sitting at the
western side of the room, there was no inherent distinction
in sitting by the mizrach. If, however, he felt that
one of the celebrants at the simcha would themselves
be honored by his appearance at the top table, he would
gladly go sit there, without making any show of refusal and
having to be pressured.
Because of his extensive involvement in communal affairs, he
was scrupulously careful to avoid receiving any benefits from
public figures, lest this influence his judgment in matters
involving them or those close to them. After every family
simcha, he would separate all the presents that had
been given by public figures and return them.
His bearing was always that of an ordinary person, who felt
himself to be just one of the group. When, after a number of
accidents l'a, in the neighborhood where he lived, a
rotation of adults was organized to accompany young children
across the roads in the mornings, Rav Shimon Moshe asked to
be included in the list, like any other resident.
Once, as a bochur, he was travelling from his home to
yeshiva, carrying a large suitcase. The bus driver was
somewhat short-tempered and demanded that he pay an extra
fare for the space taken up by the suitcase. Rav Shimon Moshe
extended a sum of money and seriously asked the driver in
that case to take three fares, one for the suitcase on his
outward trip when, "they apparently forgot to ask me for
money."
One of the distinguished talmidei chachomim who
eulogized him, correctly noted that, "The same Rav Shimon
Moshe who was busy reconciling a difficult Rambam, would also
be busy mending his neighbor's solar water tank."
He would always refuse the honor of being sandek at a
bris, even for his own grandchildren. He argued that
it was a segulah for the child if the sandek
was a man of distinction and that he would forgo the honor
which the parents wished to give him, for the child's
benefit. In his last years, however, when he had already
undergone considerable suffering, he agreed to accept
sandeko'us saying that, "I now feel more suited to it,
besides which, since it is an omen for the sandek to
lead a long life, it is part of the efforts that I am obliged
to make towards recovery of my health."
He once commented that when the bochurim stood up for
him when he entered the yeshiva, he felt as though he was
being mocked, for he himself recognized his own
worthlessness. He then reconsidered however, and likened it
to people who stand up for two wooden sticks covered with the
velvet sheath that encases a sefer Torah, because
they think that under the covering there is a real sefer
Torah. Even though they are mistaken, their rising
certainly constitutes honor of the Torah. Seeing it in this
light made him feel better.
In his humility and the simplicity of his bearing, he put no
distance whatsoever between himself and whoever he happened
to be dealing with. He would talk in learning to young
bochurim as though they were both the same age. Any
stranger who engaged him in ordinary conversation would be
unable to tell that the man he was speaking to was a great
gaon and teacher of Torah.
When Rav Shimon Moshe took part in a meeting of gedolei
Torah from a number of different communities, one of the
participants did not know who he was. When this talmid
chochom met Rav Shimon Moshe again some time later, he
asked for his forgiveness. When Rav Shimon Moshe asked, "What
for?" he explained, "At that meeting, I thought that you were
the attendant of one of the gedolim there and I
didn't accord you the honor you deserve. However, when your
seforim came into my hands, I saw that you are a
godol beTorah yourself, so I'm asking your
forgiveness." Rav Shimon Moshe, naturally, did not understand
what the problem was.
He bitterly hated all outward shows of honor. In his youth,
he once met a certain rosh yeshiva, who proposed a
certain Torah position to him. At the end of their
conversation, the rosh yeshiva remarked, "I see that
you are no lover of honor." Rav Shimon Moshe corrected him
straight away and said, "You are mistaken. I do love honor
but, just a person with refined taste will not eat from
whatever is at hand, so it is with my taste in honor. I don't
feel that there's any honor at all in the cacophony and the
various performances of honoring that are customary nowadays,
therefore, I don't pursue them. If someone wants to demolish
one of my chiddushei Torah however, then you'll be
able to see how much I love honor."
On the last occasion that he went to deliver a shiur
in Kol Torah, he was so weak that he was unable to wear his
customary black coat because it was too heavy. When asked
whether he wasn't disturbed by going about without it, he
replied in the negative and added that in fact, during all
the years that he'd had to wear it, it had disturbed him. Now
he felt comfortable.
His Torah and His Seforim
Rav Shimon Moshe's Torah declared eloquently enough who he
was and praises of his chiddushim would be out of
place here. What should be noted however, is that he never
used his tremendous gifts in order to make "a place of his
own," or to force chiddushim for the sake of it. His
only purpose was to clarify and fully explain what had
already been said by others, to provide polish and shine, to
bring out its full beauty. The clear and sharp definitions
which he used in order to fathom Torah's secrets were drawn
from the Torah itself; he did not invent his own tools.
He would never be party to a dim or hazy explanation; neither
would he agree to an unlikely conclusion, even when there
seemed to be compelling reasons for doing so. He preferred to
leave something puzzling unresolved, rather than resolve it
with something else that was just as amazing, if not more so.
Though all his chiddushim made perfect sense by
themselves, they were always founded upon a compelling basis.
He was never tempted to put forward a nice idea or a sharp
definition where there was no strong reason for doing so.
Someone once remarked about his seforim that even if
somebody disagreed with what was written in them, the onus of
explaining why it was not as he said would still be on the
dissenter, so self- understood and transparent were all of
Rav Shimon Moshe's conclusions. When he heard this comment,
Rav Shimon Moshe responded that this was the greatest praise
of his seforim that he had ever heard.
He knew his own mind and would not be swayed from his
convictions, even on fine points. Someone once showed him a
kushyoh in a certain sefer and Rav Shimon
Moshe replied that in his opinion, there was no difficulty
whatsoever, and he explained why. Some time later, the same
person met him again and asked him if he was a talmid
of a certain gaon. Rav Shimon Moshe replied in the
negative and his colleague then showed him the same answer he
had given in that gaon's sefer, except that the latter
had prefaced the answer with the words, "And perhaps one
could resolve it . . . "
Rav Shimon Moshe said, "You can see that I'm not his
talmid. I said that there's no question, while he
writes, `perhaps one could resolve it'!"
"No question" and "perhaps one could resolve it" -- two
different worlds!
He was very fond of brevity; not only brevity in using the
minimum number of words, but also in leaving out any
extraneous ideas that did not have a direct bearing on the
matter under discussion. A talmid once approached him
after a shiur and pointed out to him that a particular
point he had made was not necessary in order to buttress the
central idea he had wanted to convey. Rav Shimon Moshe
thanked the bochur and subsequently praised him
highly for that comment.
Rav Shimon Moshe's seforim were warmly received by
Torah scholars the world over and many of his
chiddushim, both written and oral, became part of the
standard Torah that was repeated on the topics they
concerned. On a number of occasions, the Steipler Gaon
zt'l, mentioned that it was his custom to study the
volume of Rav Shimon Moshe's Mas'eis Hamelech on the
Torah every Shabbos and that he greatly enjoyed what was
written there.
A talmid chochom once told Rav Shimon Moshe that he
had visited HaRav Yechezkel Abramsky zt'l, when HaRav
Nochum Partzovitz zt'l, was also there. The two
geonim had Mas'eis Hamelech on Hilchos
Rotzei'ach Ushemiras Nefesh open in front of them and
were discussing one of the chiddushim that appeared
there. Rav Shimon Moshe responded, "Do you think that they
couldn't find a more important sefer than Mas'eis
Hamelech to discuss? Rav Abramsky is probably busy
preparing his sefer on the Tosefta Makkos, and
for completion's sake, is looking into every sefer
that he has on that masechta, in case he finds some
important information there."
The Last Shiur
His final years, when he suffered both physical and spiritual
anguish, are deserving of special consideration. Despite his
own suffering, there was no noticeable difference in the way
he conducted himself at home or among his talmidim and
followers. He continued to publish his seforim and to
oversee communal affairs, to the very last drop of his
strength. His face was suffused with the same joy of life as
always.
One comment which he repeated on a number of occasions of
surprising frankness towards the end of his life, was
publicized after his petirah. He said that had he
originally been given the choice whether or not to become
sick, he would not have agreed to choose any differently,
having seen that he had grown extremely close to Hashem
Yisborach during the period of his illness which, after
all, was the whole purpose of life.
Here is an the account of the last shiur which Rav
Shimon Moshe delivered in the yeshiva. Far more than he
actually said remains engraved on the memories of those who
witnessed it. It was a shiur in love of Torah, in
transmission of Torah, in devotion to talmidim and in
self- sacrifice.
Without any strength, worn out from the illness that ravaged
him, Rav Shimon Moshe arrived to deliver his shiur. It
seemed that the shiur was a substitute for a daily
dose of pain-killers. How it is possible to give a
shiur in such a condition? Fear and dread rippled
through the talmidim. Rav Shimon Moshe was trying to
move forward and cover the last few meters, to take the last
few steps that lay between the door and his place. Tears
welled up in a fruitless attempt to move the table a little.
But a bridge of willpower reached over the depths. Rav Shimon
Moshe slowly managed to gather strength and to reach his
place uneventfully. Everybody breathed easier.
With moist eyes and slow motions, he began the shiur.
His voice grew stronger as he went on. Amazing! Within two
minutes, all had forgotten about the illness. Rav Shimon
Moshe was as energetic as ever, full of vitality and grace,
illuminating, flashing with power, giving his all; it was a
picture of him in his prime.
Someone else was in the shiur room for a few moments,
not the same person who had entered like a broken potsherd.
This was a man whose veins flowed with Torah, a teacher of
Torah, whose blood bubbled with a life force that emanated
from a different source entirely. His voice rose and fell,
presenting the opinions of Rishonim and
Acharonim in all their clarity . . . a Torah of joy,
as it was fetched down from the mountain . . . and the sound
of the shofar grew ever stronger . . .
After the shiur, to everyone's surprise, he
straightened up and stepped outside with his usual vigor. The
rebellious table that had refused to listen to him earlier,
moved aside at his touch, as though in honor and deference to
him. It moved aside like the stopper coming off a bottle. He
had "united his heart" and concentrated all his resources,
and had rolled a stone away from our hearts. Torah's
brilliance gleamed brightly.
Who will give us a substitute for him? The truth is that
one can never finish speaking about this great man because he
was an utter wonder, so highly gifted, such wisdom and such
self-sacrifice. He gave his all; his thoughts were always
centered on learning or on how to help someone else.
We have to learn from his ways. We have to recover some of
the old glory when Torah was people's preoccupation . . .
everyone needs to know how to use his own mind, to
contemplate and to understand with his own abilities, not
just imitating and following others. We have to learn from
him the meaning of providing the public with merits, of Torah
dissemination, of Torah study. The main thing is, to do
everything honestly and to think in advance how much Heaven's
honor will be enhanced as a result of what we do.
In the merit of our learning from Rav Shimon Moshe's
wonderful ways, may he be an upright defender of all those
who were so bound up with him in his heart. (HaRav B.S.
Deutsch)
From a Letter to a Talmid
In our times, most people tend to be attracted by things
whose meaning is dim, concealed and fantastic. They are more
willing to listen to abstract ideas, than to clear and
straightforward ones.
One must remember that learning is not an entertaining
diversion for the intellect. It is the ultimate truth and the
investigation and inquiry that lead to it. Therefore, where
an alternative reading, or a very simple explanation, truly
seem to be the correct ones there is no place for sophistry.
We must remember that our task is to attune our thinking to
that of the Talmud and of our teachers, the
Rishonim, not to force the Talmud to fit our
own ideas.
Our main objective should be to pay attention to the text, to
the literal meaning of the gemora and the
Rishonim -- because it is clear that they were precise
in the way they expressed themselves -- and not to try and
read untenable ideas into their words. There is no
justification for attempting to attribute even the most
beautiful idea to them, unless it fits comfortably into the
language that they used. This requires a great amount of
toil. Often, after a lot of hard work, we wonder why we
didn't see that this was the meaning earlier.
It is very important to be aware of what we do and what we do
not understand;
* Not to leave a Tosafos or a Rashba hazy,
until we reach the point where we are able to summarize, "The
Rashba says such and such, and I have the following
difficulty in understanding him . . . " doing so in sentences
that are short and to the point;
* Neither to speak, nor to think, in amorphous, undefined
terms;
* Not to delve deeper than our minds are capable of
grasping;
* To continually go, however, just a little bit deeper, and
in time one's thoughts will become more refined;
* Not to advance any idea that needs the suffixes, vedo"k,
vehovein, or veda"l [Hebrew abbreviations of
phrases which adjure the listener to toil on his own in order
to understand what is not immediately clear. Use of such
phrases is obviously acceptable in the works of the great
Acharonim but not for beginners in our own times.];
* Not to slip into a lack of clarity;
* To summarize and to sift through principles and ideas, so
that they are clear and lucid enough to explain to a bar
mitzva boy.
I mentioned a bar mitzva boy but I was not only
referring to the simplest and most basic things. Every way of
approaching a topic and every new idea, is built up from a
number of components. Even a single idea can be divided up
into several parts. Obviously, a bar mitzva cannot
grasp the thing in its entirety. However, usually he is
certainly able to understand each point on its own.
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