The Hidden Confession- A Review of the new edition of Hillel Zeitlin's Tov V'Ra

It is no exaggeration to say that the writings of Hillel Zeitlin have changed my religious life. Since coming across his name in a footnote less than two years ago, and reading Arthur Green’s translation of some of Zeitlin’s writings, my experience of belief, prayer, and religion itself have undergone considerable revision. Like a new convert, I have tried to spread the word. I have also discovered that in addition to Green, there are many people who are writing about Zeitlin, translating his works, and learning and teaching his Torah.

Among those who have helped lead to a revival of Zeitlin’s works are Dr. Jonatan Meir of Ben Gurion University, who has written a number of Hebrew scholarly articles on Zeitlin, Dr. Shraga Bar-On, Rav Oz Bluman, the aforementioned Green and Ariel Mayse, as well as Sam Glauber, a young Torah student, who has recently begun to translate some of Zeitlin’s writing. An academic conference dealing with Zeitlin and his two sons will take place at Tel Aviv University on May 4th. Clearly, Zeitlin has become a topic of great interest in the academic and lay world.

At the same time, it continues to be difficult to acquire most of the prolific Zeitlin’s works and writings. While his son Aaron did republish some of his father’s writing (with a small degree of censorship), until recently it had been many years since one of Zeitlin’s works was republished. In November, Leor Holzer, the owner of Holzer Sefarim (a wonderful used-bookstore in Jerusalem) republished Zeitlin’s Tov V’Ra, more than 100 years after it was first published. In addition to Tov V’Ra, a masterful treatise on the nature of good and evil (which was originally serialized in a journal in 1899, and was published as a book in 1910), Holzer’s new volume contains two important essays by Zeitlin; Mitehomot HaSafek V’Hayeiush (From the Depths of Doubt and Despair) on his teacher and mentor, the Russian literary critic Lev Shestov (published in two parts in 1923-24), and HaTzimaon (The Thirst) a poetic description of Zeitlin’s unquenchable search for God (published in 1909), as well as a biography of Zeitlin, written by Yaakov Fichman, a well-known Hebrew poet who knew Zeitlin personally. While I can’t speak to the reason why the two essays were included in the new edition, it is was through the essay on Shestov that I came to understand Tov V’Ra.

I must admit that it took me a while to appreciate Tov V’ra. Having been familiar with Zeitlin’s poetic and lyrical chassidic, kabbalistic and religious writings, his more somber and even scholarly description of how various Jewish and non-Jewish thinkers thought about the nature of good and evil did not fully grab me at first. It was only as Zeitlin moved into the modern era, having discussed Buddhism, ancient Judaism, early Christianity, and the Middle Ages, as well as other approaches, that I sensed that Zeitlin’s spirit and not just his prodigious mind had gone into producing this volume. As he began to touch on the modern era, and thinkers such as Spinoza, Nietzsche, and, l’havdil, Rebbe Nachman (Zeitlin later wrote separate volumes about each of them), I began to see the Zeitlin that I had come to appreciate. In fact, Zeitlin’s conclusion finishes off with poetry, and poetic thought. Still, it was only in retrospect, after having read the essay on Shestov that I fully grasped why what made Zeitlin unique, had seemed to be missing from the beginning of the book.

As mentioned parenthetically above, the chapters of Tov V’Ra were originally written in 1899. It was during this time that Zeitlin was in the midst of a profound religious crisis which had begun after he studied philosophy and biblical criticism as a teenager (it is worth noting that Zeitlin never attended a formal yeshivah or university and that he was essentially self-taught Jewishly and secularly). While some of his writings during this time period reflect upon religious themes, Zeitlin was struggling mightily to discover what, if anything, he still believed. While his search cannot be seen in the early part of the volume, even implicitly, it is in the writings about the modern era where his search becomes more manifest, and it is here that I return to his essay on Shestov.

After first enumerating the various attempts to ascertain metaphysical and general truth, including Hume, Kant, various Neo-Kantians, Nietszche, positivism and materialism , Zeitlin moves on to Shestov’s approach. Essentially, Shestov argues that objective truth cannot be ascertained, and that any sense of truth cannot be found outside of oneself, and that it is only once one is completely broken, that they can discover in themselves their truth. This truth may or may not be compelling to others, but in one’s brokenness the truth for which you are willing to live your life is found. Shestov’s novel understanding of the great writers and philosophers, including Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Nietzsche, among others, is that hidden within their writings, as in a confession, one can discover the truth they believe in, in their deepest being.

With this understanding, one can return to Tov V’Ra. In the beginning, Zeitlin was sharing philosophical ideas. They were serious and important ideas, but not ones which represent his deepest truth. As he moved into the modern era, consciously or not, his true confession, the one that he was in the midst of figuring out for himself, appears. It is here that the reader who knows how the search will progress, sees glimpses of the Zeitlin who is yet to be. The reader who is familiar with Zeitlin’s later writings, knows how the story will progress, so to speak, even if Zeitlin himself does not. That reader is familiar with the essay HaTzimaon, where Zeitlin will write of his desperate search, as well as his later writings where we are privileged to witness the profound and passionate faith that Zeitlin discovered.

Leor Holzer, who is as fascinating and uniques as his store, has done a tremendous service by publishing this book. He has made available one of the works of a thinker who has so much to offer to the thinking and struggling Jew of today. While there are a few small things which could be improved upon (there are some typos, and there are no footnotes), Holzer has done an incredible job in making this Hebrew work available (uncensored) at a very reasonable price. It is my hope that he and others will continue to republish Zeitlin’s writings, and that others will translate Zeitlin’s other works for the English reading public.

Only 500 copies of Tov V’Ra have been published. The remaining copies can be purchased at Holzer Sefarim which is located at 91 Rechov Yaffo. The book can also be ordered by calling the store 076-543-3800.

Righting A Wrong- Thoughts on Rabbi Dr. Isaac Breuer on his 70th yahrtzeit

I write the following with two connected goals in mind. The first is to give thanks and acknowledge a debt to a thinker who has greatly contributed to my understanding of Judaism, philosophy, and theology. The second, and more important reason, is to right a wrong. To whatever degree possible I wish to bring a great thinker to the attention of many in the Jewish world who can gain so much from his writings. As the 70th yahrtzeit of Rabbi Dr. Isaac Breuer zt”l is today, the 13th of Av, it is time that he and his writings get the attention they deserve.

When I went through a major crisis of faith, I reached out to many people who I hoped could help me. One way in which they did so was by recommending books and articles for me to read. Among those whose writings were suggested were Rav Soloveitchik, Rav Kook, Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits, and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. It goes without saying that all of them were great thinkers and deserved to be on the list. It was only several years later, as my reading and search continue, that by chance I read a footnote which led me to the writings of Rabbi Breuer. How could it be, I wondered, that the thought of such a great thinker was not better known, and that nobody among those scholars and rabbis from whom I sought guidance thought to recommend any of his works for me to study.

Having read two of his biographies (this being the more important of the two) , as well as a number of his short essays, there seems to be certain reasons that kept from Rabbi Breuer from being better known. Although a good deal of his writings have been translated into Hebrew and English, much of what he wrote was in German. It was only later in his life, when he had already moved to Israel that he wrote several books in Hebrew. Additionally, as with many great thinkers, he was not so successful in the public arena. As one reads about his attempt to steer the Agudas Yisroel in a more moderate direction, one which, later in his life would have included joining up with the Mizrachi, it is hard not to wonder with some sadness about what might  have been had he been more politically astute. Indeed, as Shmuel Pappenheim writes a fascinating post today on Facebook, to the degree that Breuer is remembered it is done outside of the world of the very Agudah which he helped build. Furthermore, while he had a deep love for the land and people of Israel, his views on Zionism were complex and nuanced, and thus, not in line with any of the usual pro or anti-Zionist camps. Finally, in some ways, it seems to me, he disappeared in the shadow of his illustrious grandfather Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, especially as his grandfather’s legacy was steered away from the path of moderation which he and his grandson espoused. This is is particularly disappointing as Breuer was uniquely qualified to take what he learned from his grandfather and bring it to later generations with some important philosophical and theological developments.

It is said that Breuer had two photographs on the wall of his house. One was of his grandfather, and the second was of Immanuel Kant. Breuer was able to combine the thought of Rav Hirsch, Kant and other German philosophers, including Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, as well as a deep understanding of Kabbalah into a philosophical and theological approach which addressed many of the questions that plagued the younger generations of Hirsch’s Frankfurt community. Among them, are many issues which continue to challenge many observant Jews of today including issues of biblical criticism, morality and autonomy, and religious belief in a world which grows increasingly hostile to such faith.

Every Shabbos I dedicate some of my time to going through Rav Breuer’s masterful work Nachliel. I have heard it described as an update of his grandfather’s Chorev, itself an important work which explains the reasons for the mitzvot, both individually and as a whole. While this description is true enough as far as it goes, it does a disservice to Breuer. While Nachliel does build upon many of the ideas of his grandfather, it also includes a plethora of thought based on the varied philosophical and theological texts that Breuer studied. Additionally, whereas Rav Hirsch’s system was built on being part of a separate Jewish community in Germany, Rabbi Breuer wrote for those who had returned to Israel, and saw the potential for Israel to be the place of the true messianic redemption. To cite just one example, Rabbi Breuer develops the idea of Shabbos, in connection with the shemitah year, Yovel, and the messianic age, and talks of how God wishes for us to act politically, economically and socially.

As an educator who deals with both adolescents and adults who are looking for a deep, sophisticated and meaningful system of belief, I constantly find trenchant ideas in Nachliel, ideas which might not only be potentially beneficial to my students. I find ideas which help me in my continued attempt to develop as a thinking Jew. If this short essay can help bring this great thinker to those like myself who can benefit from his writings, I will be most gratified.

The Refuge of the Imaginative- Some thoughts on my approach to study and thought

There are two questions that cause me discomfort when I hear them (well, three actually, but hopefully the third is only temporary). The first is when I am asked where I learned in yeshiva, and the second, where I studied in college. When I hear the former, I fear that my answer will show me to be a pretender in the world of Torah study, while the latter question will expose my lack of qualification to be seriously dealing with the academic subjects which fascinate me.

I came to serious Torah learning late, even later than my Modern-Orthodox peers who “flipped” in Israel after high school. I blew off most of my year in yeshiva, and barely treaded water in learning in the subsequent years. It was only after I had married, spent two years in chinuch, and been accepted in an Israeli kollel, that I finally started to learn seriously. Even then, I made a lot of progress on my own and with chavrusas, and never had a real “rebbe” or developed a single derech halimmud.

On the secular side, I also came to my interests in academic bible study and philosophy way too late to benefit from any formal study. Though I’ve made some progress through reading and relationships with rabbis, professors and knowledgeable friends, I’m still essentially an advanced-beginner in these fields.

It is only recently that I have begun to see these weaknesses as partial strengths. Though I sometimes wish that I had learned the Brisker derech of learning, and often wish that I had a PHD or two (or three…), my lack of a particular system has enabled me to develop in a way that feels more organic and true to myself. Is it odd to like Rav Tzadok and William James? Strange that I read Sarna and study the Heamek Davar and learn the Moreh and the Nesivos Shalom? Perhaps, but somewhere in that mix of frum and “heretical” and academic and rational and mystical and existential, is not only where I find myself, but also, where I have found myself. I comfort myself by thinking of quotes like that of Oscar Wilde, that “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative”. Somehow in this stew of the religious and secular, intellectual and intuitive, I have found my voice.

This is not to deny that I sometimes (ok, often) find myself thinking of the “what ifs” and dreaming of somehow going back to school to study once again, but here I am, and it is in the here and the now that I must live, think, write and teach. When I am asked those questions that make me uneasy, I am forced (or choose, perhaps) to focus on my weaknesses, but when I am more at ease, I recognize that through the very same experiences which have led to these weaknesses, I have managed to find strengths, and more importantly, myself.