“When Kalonymus was 13 years old, he was betrothed to Rabbi Yerahmiel Moshe’s daughter Rachel Hayyah Miriam, and they were married when he was 15. The couple had two children, a son, Elimelekh Ben Zion, and a daughter, Rekhil Yehudis. Soon after the passing of his father-in-law in 1909, Rabbi Kalonymus became rebbe and then community rabbi in Piaseczno, a town just outside Warsaw. In 1923, he founded the Yeshiva Daas Moshe, named after his father-in-law, which became one of the largest hasidic yeshivot in Warsaw in the prewar period.
The period between the two world wars was a time of revolutionary change for Jewish family life in Poland. The processes of polonization and secularization were affecting the youth in particular, so that parents steeped in tradition were often viewed by their children as being hopelessly backward. In addition, the shift of population to the large cities brought new pressures and tensions to the hasidic movement. Crammed into the teeming streets, alleys, and tenements of Warsaw, Lodz, and other large cities, the hasidic milieu was quite different from the largely rural setting of the movement’s pristine youth. Warsaw, for example, was known as the Paris of Eastern Europe; it boasted a vibrant cultural life, including theater, art, music, and moving pictures, not to mention cafes and other less attractive elements of city life.
Even for those youngsters who could not or did not wish to assimilate into Polish society, the many active Jewish youth movements provided an avenue for political activity as well as a nurturing environment, a surrogate home. These socialist, Zionist, Yiddishist, and other youth movements were largely secular in nature and served as a vehicle of escape for those who wished to leave the bonds of traditional society and Jewish observance. For these reasons, defections were becoming increasingly common even in hasidic circles.
Finally, when we recall the extreme poverty that prevailed in the Jewish community as a whole (largely as a result of government-fostered discrimination), we get some glimpse at the problems that faced the hasidic educator. It must also be noted that the hasidic movement had undergone changes since its early days. The freshness, vitality, and boldness that had once characterized the movement had inevitably dissipated somewhat with the passage of time.
A movement that was once daring and innovative in its spirituality had become to some extent predictable, even conservative. While reformers had periodically made efforts to breathe new life into the movement from within, it was nevertheless true that by the twentieth century, the appellation hasid often had more to do with attachment to a specific community, adherence to its modes of dress, and loyalty to its leader, than with the fostering of inner spirituality as taught by the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples.
Hasidic yeshivot had largely reappropriated the mitnaggedic ideal of excellence in Talmud studies; their Roshei Yeshivah often taught in the “Lithuanian” mode. Rabbi Shapira’s goals for his yeshivah were more far-reaching. He wished to develop a core group of students of “sublime stature” (b’nei aliyah) who might revitalize the hasidic movement. But if the original Beshtian vision was to be recovered, it would now require a systematically presented, developmental approach to hasidic spirituality. This was the task that Rabbi Shapira set for himself.
The outlines of his approach were presented in his first book, Hovat Ha-Talmidim (“The Students’ Responsibility”), first published in 1932 in Warsaw. The introduction, directed to teachers and parents, addresses the failure of traditional educational methods to stem the rising tide of defections from the observant community. The answer, says Rabbi Shapira, is not more authoritarian discipline and rote learning, but imbuing the child with a vision of his own potential greatness and enlisting him as an active participant in his own development.
The teacher must learn to speak the language of the student, and graphically convey the delights of a life of closeness to God. In earlier times it was possible to teach the structure of Jewish religious practice without imparting a sense of its inner significance, in the hope that practice would lead to genuine involvement and inner commitment.
Now, however, writes Rabbi Shapira, the youngster’s intellectual and emotional capabilities develop at an earlier age than previously, and the child must be presented, from the very beginning of his educational career, with a sense of the inner beauty of the life of Torah, to prevent his being captured by the far more obtrusive and blatant attractions of the big city and its culture.
Talk of punishment should be avoided, for it is the surest way to alienate the student. Instead the teacher should sprinkle his teaching with touches of humor, and should also not neglect to invoke the power of the imagination, in such forms as the parable and the story, while imparting his message. The text itself constantly reminds the student of the powerful spiritual potential within him, that he is a descendant of the prophets of Israel and must work hard to uncover the greatness inside him.
Psychologically astute advice is given for character flaws: if a student feels an obsessive hatred toward a fellow, then Write him a letter (but don’t send it!). . . . Heap scorn on him, as much as your venomous heart desires; for several days read the letter out loud, while imagining that you are facing him and reviling him with those words of abuse. After some days of this, no doubt your anger will leave your heart, and . . . you will hasten to reconcile with him.
Hovat ha-Talmidim was the only work of Rabbi Shapira to be published in his lifetime. It established his reputation as a master of hasidic educational theory. The essayist Hillel Zeitlin wrote a review of the book soon after it appeared, in which he praised the author for bringing order and method into hasidic studies, for his emphasis on simhah (joy), and for injecting vitality and freshness into the life of the yeshivah student. Zeitlin concluded, “This book is a gateway for anyone, in particular for the modern Jew who has felt a genuine calling to return to his tradition (nitznetz be-libo hirhur teshuvah amitit), to enter into the palace of Hasidism.”
Another work, which remained in manuscript during Rabbi Shapira’s lifetime but which has since been published in Israel, is Hakhsharat ha-Avrekhim (“The Young Men’s Preparation”). This book, meant for those who had already mastered the material in Hovat ha-Talmidim, emphasizes the development and channeling of emotion. Nowadays, he writes, hitlahavut, fervor, must be taught and developed–by employing such means as song, music, and dance (in common with other rebbeim of his lineage, Rabbi Shapira played the violin himself, and would often lead his hasidim in song on the violin).
The goal is to “uncover one’s soul,” to “grab one’s soul by the scruff of its neck,” as he put it. Rabbi Shapira places great emphasis on employing the imagination, in the form of mahshavah hazakah–“intense thought,” which involves focusing on specific mental images and scenes, designed to bind one’s bodily emotions to a sacred matrix.
He suggests, for example, imagining oneself at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, going into the courtyard, passing the altar, and finally standing at the Holy of Holies. There are passages where Rabbi Shapira takes one on a guided journey of a visit to a rebbe, a Se’udah Shelishit (“Third Sabbath Meal”), a festival, or–turning to biblical motifs–he has us accompany Abraham and Isaac at the Akedah, or the Children of Israel at the Exodus from Egypt. The guided imagery is vivid and detailed, and is designed to awaken the spiritual sensitivity of the reader.
Rabbi Shapira introduces a technique of witnessing one’s thoughts to correct negative habits and character traits. This is based on his notion that the examination of a thought from the outside tends to dampen it. He advises that one not dwell in the negative thought pattern, but scrutinize the negative thought while remaining aloof from it.
This technique of witnessing the stream of one’s thoughts without being caught up in them eventually crystallizes into a meditation practice that he calls hashkatah: silencing the conscious mind. Once the mind is silenced or stilled, it is fully receptive to mahshavah ahat shel kedushan–the focusing on one holy thought, for example, a brief phrase of Torah–to fill the mind with holiness.
The next stage in the meditation is to ask God, in a quiet yet articulated manner, for help in attaining a spiritual gift, such as faith, love of God, or liveliness in His service. The meditation session ends in a niggun. Rabbi Shapira intimates that those who practice this meditation for several weeks would come to know the meaning of the verse “This is my God” (Exodus 15:2) in a most tangible and immediate way.
One suggestion discussed in Hakhsharat ha-Avrekhim was the formation of a spiritual fellowship, with membership dependent on sincere dedication to the group’s spiritual and fraternal goals. Taken as a whole, his approach might be called “Sensitization to Holiness,” the goal of which was to arouse and sensitize the individual to the holiness within him. Once the person was sensitized, he would be awakened to the holiness in the Torah, the mitzvot, and those extraordinary individuals called tzaddikim, and would be well on his way to becoming a hasid in reality as well as in name.
Rabbi Shapira was more than just a theoretician of hasidic pedagogy. As an active rebbe (“hasidic master”), he daily came into contact with people from all over Poland who sought his help. In particular, he was famed for his knowledge of medicine. It is said that he acquired his medical knowledge, which seems to have included clinical practice, from physicians such as Dr. Aaron Solovietchik (Solowiejczyk), chief of surgery at the Jewish Hospital in Warsaw. Through the good offices of Dr. Solovietchik, Rabbi Shapira’s prescriptions, written in Latin, were accepted and filled in Warsaw pharmacies.”
~ Nehemia Polen, The Holy Fire: The Teachings of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto
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