Fall 2015(5776) 5776

Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein was born in Paris in 1933 but fled Nazi-occupied France for the United States with his family in 1940. He was recognized as an outstanding student while studying at Yeshiva Rabbi Chaim Berlin under Rabbi Yitzchok Hutner. Subsequently, he attended Yeshiva University, where he studied under Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. He earned semichah from the Rav, and went on to complete a doctorate in English literature at Harvard University. In 1960, he married the Rav’s daughter, Dr. Tovah Lichtenstein.
After serving as rosh kollel at YU’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary for a few years, Rabbi Lichtenstein was approached by Rabbi Yehuda Amital to serve as co-rosh yeshivah of Yeshivat Har Etzion in Alon Shevut, Israel. Rabbi Lichtenstein accepted the offer, and he and his family made aliyah in 1971. He served as rosh yeshivah at Yeshivat Har Etzion for four decades and taught thousands of students, among them many rabbis and educators. A leading figure in the Religious Zionist world, Rabbi Lichtenstein also served as rosh kollel of Yeshiva University’s Gruss Institute in Jerusalem. Rabbi Lichtenstein was awarded the Israel Prize for Torah Literature in 2014. He passed away on April 20, 2015, at the age of eighty-one. Rabbi Lichtenstein left behind his wife and six children, including head of Yeshivat Har Etzion Rabbi Mosheh Lichtenstein, and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Since the passing of Moreinu v’Rabbeinu HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, many people have asked me, “Did you know him well? Did you have a relationship with him?” This seems to be a perfectly understandable question, since the sense of loss one feels with someone’s passing corresponds to the depth of the relationship one had with the niftar. In this instance, however, it’s a faulty assumption and—with all due respect—the question rings hollow.

“The voice of the Lord is strength (koach), the voice of the Lord is splendor (hadar)” (Psalms 29:6). Commenting on this verse, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, suggested that “koach” refers to God’s imposition of His authority, while “hadar” refers to the beauty of His commands.1 This duality of koach and hadar applies to great rabbinic figures as well.

He entered the room with my stomach in knots; the numerous stories about the famous “Gush bechinah” (entrance exam) caused my mouth to be so dry, I could not even say a word as I sat before him.

He hardly looked at me, and he certainly did not smile. There was no chitchat or even pleasantries; rather, he began by asking me what I was learning and, without the benefit of a sefer, he began his questioning.

What is the legacy of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein? Only too soon, the answer, I fear, will be: It depends on whom you ask.

When Rav Betzalel Zolty, zt”l, the chief rabbi of Yerushalayim, delivered the hesped (eulogy) for Rav Elimelech Bar-Shaul, zt”l, the chief rabbi of Rechovot, he commenced with a quotation from the hesped Dovid HaMelech gave for Yehonatan: “Tzar li alecha achi Yehonatan; na’amta li me’od, I am distressed over you, my brother Yehonatan; you were so pleasant to me.” Rav Zolty questioned Dovid HaMelech’s use of the word “achi, brother.”

In one of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein’s masterful discussions on the value of general culture for the development of a Torah personality, he reflected on the importance of being able to assess the character and uniqueness of individuals, and especially of gedolim.

When asked what he had learned at Harvard, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, answered that there he grasped the complexity of human beings and their affairs.

Think it’s too late for your tech-napped child? Take heart. Hope comes in unexpected forms–sometimes in a khaki uniform.

Orthodox kids across the country are putting aside their Wiis and iPhones to pitch tents, stoke campfires and learn first-aid, CPR and lifelong leadership skills. They’re shomer Shabbat Boy Scouts, and proud of it.

Sitting next to his sixteen-year-old daughter, Shayna, in his flood-damaged house in Houston’s Willow Meadows neighborhood, Rick Guttman recalls a deal he made with God after his home flooded during Tropical Storm Allison in 2001.