DEFENDING THE

Photos: Menachem Kozlovsky

Forward
IN THE PAGES OF THE
A religious voice in a secular forest was how the New York Times described Lithuanianborn Rabbi Aaron Benzion Shurin, who is currently nearing the end of his tenth decade. During his long and blessed years in print, Rabbi Shurin was a rarity on the pages of the Forward, the famous Yiddishlanguage daily newspaper: a passionate advocate for the values of Torah and tradition in an era when most Yiddish-speaking immigrants aimed to escape their heritage and embrace the American dream. In a rare conversation, the veteran journalist opens a window to the life experiences and values that shaped his prolific writing career

Rabbi Aaron Benzion Shurins Six Decades of Journalism

Voice of tradition in a secular stronghold. Rabbi Shurin peruses photos of the many Torah giants and personalities that have dotted his close to ten decades

26

13 Sivan 5770 5.26.10

27

Yisroel Besser

he humble Flatbush home gives no indication of the riches that lie within it. So many great men and great moments converge here: The day that young Mordechai Gifter, an American native, arrived in Lithuanias Telshe Yeshivah, and the day Rav Eliyahu Meir Bloch arrived at Americas Penn Station, intent on keeping the name of Telshe alive. The day Israels first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, traveled to the humble home of the Chazon Ish, wearing a white fedora in his honor, and the day that Rav Shneur Kotler assumed the leadership of the then-small Lakewood yeshivah. This parlor saw the formation of more than six decades of eloquent Orthodox expression. In an era long predating todays kiruv web sites and impressive books articulating the Orthodox position, a lone voice sounded in the progressive wilderness, decrying the notion that Orthodox Judaism was dying, a laughable relic of the old country. The crucial detail, though that little twist that makes this story all the more intriguing is that this voice of tradition found its expression in, of all places, that citadel of socialist secularism: the Forverts, a Yiddish-language daily newspaper also known as the Jewish Daily Forward. Among the false gods of America, the newspaper with its power, prestige and influence was seen by the many Yiddishspeaking immigrants as the key to success. In an era when the thousands of immigrants who snapped up the newspaper wanted nothing but to assimilate into the American melting pot, who wanted religion? Who wanted to hear about the great men of Israel and their perspectives? Who wanted to be lectured, albeit gently, almost lovingly, by a litvishe Yid, a rabbi descended from over thirty generations of rabbis? The answer to that question is part of the fascinating story, the life of Rabbi Aaron Benzion Shurin.

Rabbi Rivkin, the father-in-law of Rabbi Shurin, shakes hands with Shai Agnon as his son-in-law looks on

Rabbi Shurin brings the past back to life for his son David

Everyone, the editors, the readers and the respondents, thought that Rav Shurin was a grown man. Years later, when my family moved to Eretz Yisrael and I introduced myself to the editors of HaPardes, they were stunned
for his attention, knowing that from his pulpit, he reached a quarter of a million interested readers. It is likely that, with an uninterrupted career of sixty-six years at the Yiddish-language Forward, Rabbi Shurin is a record-holder among journalists for the longest time at the same paper. For six lively decades, Rabbi Shurin was, as they say, the man. Both sides of the spectrum relied on him for intelligent, insightful perspectives on debates that divided the nation: giyus banos, feminism and halachah, the state of the American rabbinate. He was a maggid of old, gently mocking trends in American Jewish life, even as he was an astute politician, hammering out the differences between the different political parties in Israel and explaining the subtle issues that divided the various factions within each party. And he did it all in elegant yet easily understandable Yiddish, the common language uniting the varied strands of Jewish immigrants to America.

Shurin welcomes me to his home with the type of formality that one rarely sees anymore. Despite his advanced age, he sits straight and dignified, his necktie knotted neatly. Forgive me, my hearing isnt what it used to be, he apologizes. Hes ninety-seven years old, his wife informs me. Ninety-seven and a half, he corrects her with a smile. Those ninety-seven and a half years have been spent in the thick of things; there is hardly a major Jewish event or figure of the last century unconnected to Rabbi Shurin. He remembers World Wars I and II, and studied in Eretz Yisraels first litvishe yeshivah, Lomza in Petach Tikvah. His pen related the horrific tales coming from Eastern Europe in the early forties, and brought the exciting news of a new state in the late forties. In his personal life, he was surrounded by the prominent leaders of American Jewish life: Rav Moshe Feinstein (his neighbor on the Lower East Side) and Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky (the father-in-law of his brother). He was connected to Chabad Rav Moshe Dov Ber Rivkin, a prominent Lubavitcher chassid and rosh yeshivah of Torah Vodaath, was his father-in-law and Yeshiva Universitys Rav Ahron Soloveichik was his brother-in-law. Israeli politicians beat a steady path to his door, many of them perceiving that his gifted pen was the path to the collective heart of the Jewish American public, while innovators and activists vied 28 13 Sivan 5770 5.26.10

Sixty-Six Years at the Forward Rabbi Aaron Benzion

The Writer from Ritova The story of Reb Aaron Benzion Shurin begins in another world, at another time: the Lithuanian yeshivah world of the early twentieth century. Ritova, a typical Lithuanian hamlet, boasted little save a few ramshackle homes, some horses, and a yeshivah. The rosh yeshivah was Rav Moshe Shurin. His son, Aaron Benzion, studied in the towns cheder before traveling to the great yeshivah in Telshe, led by the Telshe Rav, Rav Yosef Leib Bloch, a talmid of Rav Yisrael Salanter.

Many decades later, Rabbi Shurin still recalls the day the future rosh yeshivah, Rav Mordechai Gifter, arrived in Lithuania as a young boy from Baltimore. He recalls the dark day that the Telshe rosh yeshivah and rav passed away, when his three great sons, Reb Zalman, Reb Avraham Yitzchak, and Reb Elya Meir rose to prominence. When Rabbi Shurin was still a youngster, his father was invited to America, to serve as rabbi in the town of Cambridge, Massachusetts. He made the trip alone. During his tenure as Cambridges rabbi, he was asked by his kehillah to attend classes at Harvard which he did. In time, however, the elder Rabbi Shurin decided that his family would do better elsewhere, and in 1935 the family left Lithuania for Eretz Yisrael. Rav Moshe Shurin was then offered a position at the Lomza yeshivah in Petach Tikvah and his teenage son was enrolled there as a talmid, joining a chabura that included many young prodigies. As he remembers those years, he indicates a black and white photo depicting a group of dapper young men, their gray fedoras tilted at a rakish angle. My best friends were Rav Shmuel Rozovsky and Rav Moshe Shmuel Shapiro. They became roshei yeshivos; I became a writer, he laughs. When did that writing begin? Telshe was different from other yeshivos, Rabbi Shurin recalls, in that we the students were inculcated with a global conscience, and we knew what was going on outside of the yeshivah. We followed political developments, and we knew how to read and write Hebrew. From his early teens Aaron Benzion steadily submitted essays to the great periodicals of the day, such as HaMaor, HaMesilah and others; the submissions were always accepted. It wasnt just that they were accepted, he clarifies; they would generate responses. Everyone, the editors, the readers and the respondents, thought that Rav Shurin was a grown man. Years later, when my family moved to Eretz Yisrael and I introduced myself to the editors of HaPardes, they were stunned.

Astute political skills. Rabbi Shurin with a group of activists and New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller. Also visible is Rabbi Moshe Sherer

Religious Voice in a Secular Wilderness In the late thirties, the elder Rabbi Shurin returned to America, where he became rav of the Slutzker shul on the East Side, and his son, who

by this time had received smichah from Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer, Rav Reuven Katz, and others, came along. Reb Aaron Benzion was immediately offered a position teaching Tanach at Yeshiva College, and he threw himself into teaching and writing. Anywhere I could write, I did, he says. I enjoyed it, and I compiled a portfolio of articles on a wide range of subjects. One day, a friend said to me, You should write for the Forward. I laughed. In a 2004 interview with the New York Times, Rabbi Shurin explained why the idea of a loyal yeshivah student writing for the Forward seemed almost ludicrous. The Forward was a vastly popular Yiddish newspaper that ran as a daily from 1897 to 1983, when it transitioned to a weekly. Managed by Abraham Cahan, it was a pronouncedly secularist paper with a socialist bent, and featured writers such as Isaac Bashevis Singer and Elie Wiesel. The Forward was very secular, Rabbi Shurin explained to Alex Mindlin of the Times. In the beginning, they published Saturdays and holidays and everything. Thats why people were wondering, how come the Forward invited a rabbi to write there? These people were Yiddish-speaking but not religious. They were all laborers, and they were all socialists. So when I came, it was a very funny situation At that time, the Forward was a big newspaper. Busy? It was a chicken coop! It had a quarter of a million readers. And not only that, but anybody who had any problems whatsoever wrote to the Forward. The Forward had all the answers. Most of the Jews who came at that time, the immigrants, they knew only Yiddish. Whatever a Jew needed, hed come to the Forward, and the Forward would help him. For example, he wants to become a citizen. But to become a citizen, he has to know what day he came, what time he came, what ship. But the Jews at that 29

Connected to greatness. Rabbi Rivkin with his mechutan Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky, ztzl, in the bungalow colony

In the early part of the century, the Forward was bigger than the Times, with bigger circulation and influence, and I didnt think it possible that they would hire me. Everyone knew that they were no friends of the religious public
time, they didnt know. They knew one thing: I came seven days before Pesach. I came seven days after Pesach. They didnt know the English date, they didnt know the goyishe date, and they didnt even know the boat. But they knew one thing: the Forward knows everything. After the Second World War, a lot of people used to come to find out what happened to their relatives. So the Forward used to print full pages. With names. This man is looking for this, and this man, for his father, his mother, his cousin. And it gave his address. It had a column called relatives gezucht searching for relatives. Why would such a successful, strongly secular paper be interested in the writings of an avowed traditionalist? It seemed a lost cause from the very start. Still, despite his initial misgivings, Rabbi Shurin decided to pursue the idea. He went to meet the person he considers the greatest Orthodox writer of the century, Chaim Lieberman. Lieberman was a bibliophile, researcher, and historian, who suggested that young Shurin leave him some writings to peruse. It was Lieberman who told him, Zitst in eich a shreiber, there is a writer in you, and recommended him to Harry Lang, a managing editor at the Forward. In the early part of the century, the Forward was bigger than the Times, with bigger circulation and influence, and I didnt think it possible that they would hire me. Everyone knew that they were no friends of the religious public, and the newspaper was printed on Shabbos, just as on every other day. But times were changing and the Forward management perceived that they had to provide their Orthodox readership which was immense with a column geared to their needs, coverage and perspective of the issues that concerned them. So Aaron Shurin joined the enemy, entering a newsroom filled with socialists who regarded him with wariness, and not a wee bit of scorn. Who needs a frum writer? they wondered. 30 13 Sivan 5770 5.26.10 It was a question that went from Harry Lang to editor Hillel Rogov to the publisher himself, Abraham Cahan. Abe Cahan asked to see a sample of my writing, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of giving space to a religious writer, but then he had a stroke, nebach, and was incapacitated. The decision went to Rogov, who hired me. It didnt take long before Rabbi Shurins contribution made its mark. The letters from the readers came pouring in. Irreligious Jews have never been indifferent to their religious brothers, and the reaction was fast and furious. What are you doing to the Forward? cried the readers. But the management saw past the passion and protest: they saw that people were reading young Aaron Benzion Shurin. From one column a week, he went to two. enemy, it was his readerships smug comfort with their own limited knowledge. In one series of pieces, he demonstrated little tolerance for the evolution of the Jew from shy, frightened greenhorn to affluent, confident American. Throughout his sixty-plus years of writing, his heroes are the rabbanim, and in an article about the findings of a study that showed a decline in the numbers of qualified students seeking careers in the rabbinate, the writer doesnt mince words. Why should a bright yeshivah bochur who could indeed be a dynamic rav opt for that career when he can become a professional, where his knowledge and gifts will be appreciated and rewarded? Why shouldnt he choose a career where he wont have to worry, every Monday and Thursday, about his contract not being renewed? (1960) In another essay, he quotes Conservative rabbi Arthur Herzberg, who bemoaned the fact that the role of the rabbi has been changed, and he is no longer a spiritual leader, but a showman.

After reading his kinnah on American Jewry, I wondered, of which rabbis does he speak? Who is responsible for the situation? Is his prognosis really accurate? Rabbi Herzberg concludes that todays rabbi must be an entertainer for his congregants if he hopes to succeed. I wish to add to the list some of what I think a rabbi must be. He must be a yarei shamayim. He must believe that the Torah comes from Heaven. He must believe in the thirteen principles of faith. I wonder which rabbis Herzberg refers to when he says that they are no longer? He certainly doesnt mean the Orthodox rabbinate, since the rabbis in Orthodox shuls are doing a fine job of maintaining tradition. Might he just be referring to the Conservative and Reform rabbis? (1966) In a painfully satirical piece, he introduces his readership to a new, purely American, enterprise: The Kaddish Industry. The industry leaders appear to be rabbis, and they take the liberty of rendering halachic decisions for newly orphaned children. They succeed in convincing them that there is no need to get up early and hurry to shul each dayin order to say Kaddish. For just a few dollars, they promise, you can sleep in peace and the Kaddish-sayer will worry about everything for you ... But as a sharp Jew pointed out; the Kaddish-sayers will prove to be their own undoing. Since, eventually, there will be no more minyan at shul, for without the mourners observing their year of Kaddish, there will be no more business! In truth, though, this is not a joking matter. (1959) The week after the article appeared, the letters came from all over; the subject had clearly struck a chord in the hearts of elderly parents, justifying their worst fears. In a piece on the American fixation on secular names, Rabbi Shurin points out the non-Jews seem to have an appreciation for Biblical names. And thus, a wise rav observed that we will be able to distinguish between Jews and Gentiles quite easily. The Patricias and Kenneths are ours, while the Benjamins and Daniels are theirs ... And if you will ask, why the opposition to Jews that choose names that represent the culture of exile, I will ask you: Why is such an integral part of our mesorah the necessity of maintaining Jewish names? (1960)

The memories of Telshe still inspire emotion. Prewar Telshe, where Rabbi Shurin received much of his formative education

The Insiders View When Rabbi Shurin joined the Forward,

Passion and Poignancy If Rabbi Shurin faced any

the Torah world found itself at a critical juncture. Long regarded as a sickly weed that would soon fade away from the American scene, the religious community shocked everyone and reorganized itself into a force. That transformation was not limited to America. In Israel, where Ben-Gurion predicted that he was seeing the last of the European yeshivah world, and patronizingly allowed them to have their way as a farewell gift to the demographic that would soon be no more, the chareidi public exploded, astounding the establishment. It was perhaps only natural that the Forwards readers turned to Rabbi Shurin, asking him to clarify, explain, and put things in perspective. As the editor asked him, Who is the Chazon Ish that Ben-Gurion came to visit him? So the writer penned a piece introducing the humble man from Bnei Brak, Rav Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz, to the readership of the Forward. In fact, Rabbi Shurin knew and appreciated the Chazon Ish well before the rest of the nation. After his marriage the Chazon Ish lived in Khvaidan, Lithuania, where despite his efforts to conceal himself he caught the attention of Rav Moshe Rosen, author of Nezer HaKodesh. Rav Rosen took the young man as his chavrusa, and when he traveled, he referred all sheilos to the fledgling Torah giant.

As such, the Chazon Ish would often accompany Rav Rosen from Khvaidan to Ritova, which were near each other, like Boro Park and Flatbush, recounts Rabbi Shurin, a Ritova native. So we locals knew Reb Avraham Yeshaya. Later, in the thirties, he was relatively unknown in Eretz Yisrael, but when my family moved there, my brothers and I would come from Petach Tikvah to speak with him in learning, knowing full well just how unique he was. In his Forward article, Rabbi Shurin explains Ben-Gurions motivation for visiting the Chazon Ish in his characteristically succinct way: Ben-Gurion saw that the Mizrachi was scared of Agudah, and Agudah was scared of the Chazon Ish, so he figured, Why negotiate will all the others? Ill go straight to the top!

In the Presence of Greatness The Chazon Ish was not

the only Torah giant who came to life through Rabbi Shurins pen. A common thread that runs through many of the articles are vignettes and personal anecdotes about the great men of Israel, many of them experienced by Rabbi Shurin himself. He shares some of them with me as well, and its clear that, from among the many gedolim he knew, he has a particular affinity for Rav Elya Meir Bloch, the rosh yeshivah of Telshe. During our conversation, he recalls an incident from pre-war Telshe that, according to him, is a perfect illustration of who Reb Elya Meir was. In Eretz Yisrael, the Arabs attacked the Jews of the yishuv, causing great damage and harm. Reb Elya Meir, a master orator, was asked to travel to the Lithuanian town of Ponovezh and appeal to the locals there for funds. He acquiesced, leaving Telshe on the early train, and thus missing minyan in yeshivah. It was his mothers yahrtzeit, and he missed saying Kaddish for her, a fact that many found curious. They asked him about it. 31

Meir at the yeshivah in Cleveland, phoned him, saying, Reb Elya Meir has left us. I think you should be here for the levayah. Rabbi Shurin recalls the trip: I rode in the car with Reb Mottel and after the draining day, he took me into the empty beis medrash and led me to the front. There was something that he wanted to show me. He opened the aron kodesh and small slips of paper began to flutter out. They were inscribed with requests from the talmidim, beseeching the Ribono shel Olam to lengthen their rosh yeshivahs life, even if it meant taking years from their own lives! That is something I can never forget.

Rav Moshe Feinstein gracing the dais at the bar mitzvah of Rabbi Shurins son David, shown here next to his grandfather, Rabbi Rivkin

Do you think that my mother would prefer that I say yisgadal vyiskadash shmei rabba, or that I act in accordance with those words? he replied. That was Reb Elya Meir! Rabbi Shurins most poignant memory of the Telshe rosh yeshivah is the moment when Reb Elya Meir disembarked from a train at Penn Station, while his family and most of his talmidim were still trapped in the inferno in Europe. He knew that Hashem wanted him in America, and he focused on that shlichus. A group of us Telshe alumni who had relocated to America went to greet him at the train station, and were amazed at the strength of his conviction, his ability to see himself as a simple messenger, a cog in the great Divine plan. Focused? No one was focused like Reb Elya Meir, so dedicated to his mission, to propagating the holy mesorah of Telshe in a new world. The Telshe Yeshivah he established and led in Cleveland was every bit as majestic as the one he left behind. In an especially moving column, Rabbi Shurin took the readers of the Forward into the chiddushei Torah that Reb Elya Meir wrote just after learning that his wife and children had been killed in the concentration camps. He quoted: I am not able to concentrate as I should, for that which I feared has reached me: the terrible news of the death of at the hands of the cursed German murderers. May Hashem avenge their blood and have mercy on His people. Should someone look at these writings, let him not judge me as callous and cruel for having delved into the words of Torah after hearing such devastating news. Aside from the fact that the news did not surprise me for the terrifying knowledge [of what had transpired in Europe] had already prepared me for this terrible news I feel that I can never come to peace [with myself] without the toil of Torah without fulfilling the sacred duty which now falls upon the survivors. Having learned of my tragedy, my first call of duty must be laboring in Torah. I am indentured in the service of my people Of what importance is the suffering of the individual in the face of responsibility to an entire nation? Rabbi Shurin was never on an airplane until the day in 1955 when Rav Mottel Katz, the brother-in-law and partner of Reb Elya 32 13 Sivan 5770 5.26.10

What Rav Isser Zalman Told Me There were many other prominent Torah personalities along the way, and with each, Reb Aaron Benzion merited some sort of meaningful contact. I urge him to share some of those experiences with me. His look tells me that one had to have known them to have appreciated them, but he accommodates me nevertheless, recalling the rosh yeshivah of Etz Chaim in Jerusalem, Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer. I received smichah from him, so I was in his home quite frequently. I remember once asking him a kushya on something and he said to me, I only know the amud that I am learning; that is where I am holding, and I dont see past it. But my son-in-law, Reb Aharon [Kotler] ... he is always holding everywhere. This mention of Rav Isser Zalmans appreciation for his sonin-law sparks another memory. Once Rav Isser Zalman told me that hed long been aware of young Ahrele Sislovitzer, the prodigy of Slabodka, and had hopes of becoming his father-in-law one day. One day, a meshulach from Slabodka came to Slutsk and told Rav Isser Zalman about the young Reb Aharon Kotler, describing him as the lion of the chabura. At that point, Rav Isser Zalman realized that the secret was out,as the collector was likely singing Reb Aharons praises to anyone who would listen. Rav Isser Zalman described to me how he rose, donned his peltz (rabbinic fur coat), and told his rebbetzin, Baila Hinda, I must go finalize the shidduch immediately. He traveled to Slabodka, where his brother-in-law Rav Moshe Mordechai Epstein was rosh yeshivah, and asked him to arrange the match. The rest is history. Rabbi Shurin continues. Rav Isser Zalman shared something personal with me. He said how, after he asked Reb Moshe Mordechai to serve as shadchan, a fleeting look crossed Reb Moshe Mordechais face and he realized that Reb Moshe Mordechai, who also had a daughter of marriageable age, had likely set his eye on the bochur as well. Still, Rav Isser Zalman told me, he didnt say a word, or ever let on anything to that effect, and set out to make sure things went smoothly. While recalling Rav Isser Zalmans total immersion in the daf before him, Rabbi Shurin reminisces about visiting the rav of Jerusalems Eidah Chareidis, Rav Zelig Reuven Bengis, who conducted himself in an opposite fashion. He lived in a tiny apartment in Batei Naiten, and although he was the av beis din of the Eidah Charedis, he had neither attendants nor appointments. His home was always open. I went to visit him, and he was sitting and speaking in learning with a few talmidei chachamim. They discussed sources from all over Shas, all from memory, and I was astounded. With his writers curiosity, the visitor challenged the rav to a test on Shas. His face lit up and he said to me, Take out a Gemara, any Gemara, and dont tell me which. Then, read any four words on the page, from the Gemara, Rashi, or Tosafos, and then I will tell you where its from. I followed his instructions, and he answered me to the page each and every time. Rabbi Shurin points out that what is amazing about the story isnt just the gaonus of the rav: its how naturally he allowed a young bochur to play games with him in order to inspire a love of limud haTorah.

One would have to be very presumptuous to call himself a journalist in the presence of Rabbi Shurin. Theres a way this veteran writer recounts the stories, a certain awareness that he has been privileged to see, hear, and connect with such a wide range of illustrious Yidden. As he retells these vignettes, you can sense a certain sympathy for those of us who will never see. And to a degree, that sympathy is justified. I wasnt there in the Lithuania, or in mandate-controlled Eretz Yisrael. I didnt see the Chazon Ish or Rav Isser Zalman. But I did see him, Reb Aaron Benzion Shurin, the man with the tools to bring the figures to life, the writer who passionately defended tradition in the pages of a secular stronghold, the sweet litvishe Yid with the easy smile and seemingly endless supply of anecdotes and recollections. My little brush with history. n