The Two Faces of Religious Radicalism - Orthodox Zealotry and Holy Sinning in Nineteenth Century...

The Two Faces of Religious Radicalism:Orthodox Zealotry and “Holy Sinning”in Nineteenth-Century Hasidism inHungary and Galicia*

Benjamin Brown / Hebrew University of Jerusalem

I. INTRODUCTION

In scholarly usage, the term “religious radicalism” has two somewhat con-flicting definitions. In the context of the conflict between tradition andmodernity, “religious radicalism” tends to refer to a hard-line traditionalistposition opposed to innovation; that is, a forceful affirmation of the author-ity of traditional religious law ðor dogmaÞ and the struggle against thosewho would abrogate it.1 Some leaders of Orthodox Judaism in Hungaryand Galicia—certain Hasidic masters among them—have been consideredreligious radicals in this sense of the term.2 When referring to heterodoxmovements, however, the term “religious radicalism” often refers to a bold,nonconformist, revolutionary religious position that tests the boundaries

* I am grateful to Albert Baumgarten for his helpful comments on an early version of thisarticle and to the anonymous reviewers who helped me to sharpen my arguments.

© 2013 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.0022-4189/2013/9303-0004$10.00

1 Emmanuel Sivan, Radical Islam ðNew Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985Þ, 1–15; Brian I.Farmer, Understanding Radical Islam ðNew York: Lang, 2007Þ, 8–20. For this type of religiousradicalism, some scholars use the terms “extremism” or “fundamentalism.” See, e.g., Charles S.Liebman, “Extremism as a Religious Norm,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 22, no. 1ð1983Þ: 75–86; Gabriel A. Almond, R. Scott Appleby, and Emmanuel Sivan, Strong ReligionðChicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003Þ. Religious radicalism is not necessarily out of themainstream. The dominant trends of the Catholic Church under Pope Pius IX, which culmi-nated in the Quanta Cura, the Syllabus of Errors, and the First Vatican Council, may also beconsidered forms of religious radicalism, although they were part of the institutional church.For a general characterization of the “traditionalistic” response to modernity, see Shmuel NoahEisenstadt, Tradition, Change, and Modernity ðMalabar, FL: Krieger, 1983Þ, 329–32.

2 Menachem Friedman, “Jewish Zealots: Conservative versus Innovative,” in Religious Radicalismand Politics in the Middle East, ed. Emmanuel Sivan and Menachem Friedman ðNew York: SUNYPress, 1990Þ, 132; Aviezer Ravitzky, Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism ðChicago:University of Chicago Press, 1996Þ, 40–51, 63–66, 74–75.

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of religious law ðor dogmaÞ and, at times, goes beyond them.3 EarlyHasidismis often described as radical in this sense of the word.4 One prominent ex-ample of this radicalism is the doctrine of “averah lishmah”—“sin for the sakeof Heaven” or “holy sin”—adopted by some early leaders of themovement.5

The difference between these two forms of religious radicalism is definedby the way they relate to religious law. One leads a struggle against devia-tion from the law, while the other paves the way for such deviation. One isnomistic, often dedicated to hypernomianism.6 The other is concerned withantinomianism, even if only a “soft” form of it.7 I would like to suggest asomewhat rough terminology in order to categorize these two types of re-

3 This usage of the term often appears in the context of mystical movements, includingHasidism, but is also present inmodernist movements such as protestant “radical theology.” See,e.g., MichaelMullet, Radical Religious Movements in Early Modern Europe ðLondon: Allen &Unwin,1980Þ, xi, xxii; Gershom Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism ðNew York: Schocken, 1961Þ,348; Mendl Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut ½The beginning of Hasidism� ð Jerusalem: BialikInstitute, 1978Þ, 204, andHasidut Polin Bein Shtei HaMilhamot UviGzerot TASH-TASHAH ðHaShoahÞ½Ideological trends of Hasidism in Poland during the interwar period and the Holocaust�ð Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1990Þ, 37–38; Shaul Magid, Hasidism on the Margin: Reconciliation,Antinomianism, and Messianism in Izbica and Radzin Hasidism ðMadison: University of WisconsinPress, 2003Þ, 254. On “radical theology,” see William Hamilton, “American Theology, Radi-calism, and the Death of God,” in Radical Theology and the Death of God, ed. T. J. J. Altizer andW. Hamilton ðIndianapolis: Bobbs-Merill, 1966Þ, 5–6. I assume that the recent “radical Ortho-doxy” movement might also be considered radical in this modernist sense, in spite of itsantimodernist positions on several issues. See John Milbank, Graham Ward, and CatherinePickstock, “Introduction: Suspending the Material—the Turn of Radical Orthodoxy,” in RadicalOrthodoxy: A New Theology, ed. John Milbank, Catherine Pickstock, and GrahamWard ðLondon:Routledge, 1999Þ, 2–3.

4 For example: Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 348; Piekarz, BiYmei TzemihatHaHasidut , 204; Magid, Hasidism on the Margin, 254. This usage of the terms in question wascriticized by Moshe Idel, “Yofyah shel Ishah: LeToldotehah shel HaMystica HaYehudit” ½Femalebeauty: A chapter in the history of Jewish mysticism�, in BeMaaglei Hasidim: Kovetz MaamarimLezikhro shel Professor Mordechai Wilensky ½WithinHasidic circles: Studies inHasidism inmemory ofMordecai Wilensky�, ed. Immanuel Etkes, David Assaf, Israel Bartal, and Elchanan Reinerð Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1999Þ, 331.

5 The literal translation of averah lishmah is “sin for its own sake,” but I have followed itsconventional understanding as established in Rashi’s commentary on BTNazir 23b andHorayot10b ðsee below at n. 21Þ.

6 The term “hypernomian”may bemisleading and therefore requires clarification. In its originalsense, the term denoted religious types that demanded norms that were more demanding orrestrictive than standard religious law or at least “demanded strict and uncompromising observa-tion ofminutely-defined and elaborate religious code” ðYoninaTalmon, “MillenarianMovements,”Archives Europeennes de Sociologie 7 ½1966�: 178Þ. However, in more recent studies, presumably fol-lowing the researches of Elliot Wolfson, a new meaning was added to the term, denoting a con-dition in which the person ðoften the mysticÞ feels above and beyond the obligations of the lawand therefore freed from them. See, e.g., Elliot Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the Com-mandments in the Prophetic Kabbalah of Abraham Abulafia,” in Perspectives on Jewish Thoughtand Mysticism, ed. Alfred L. Ivry, Elliot R. Wolfson, and Allan Arkush ðAmsterdam: Harwood,1998Þ, 331–81,esp.345–60, andVenturingBeyond:LawandMorality inKabbalisticMysticism ðOxford:Oxford University Press, 2006Þ, 109, 115 n. 101, 186, 240, 260–63, 272–73Þ. I will use the term inits former, original sense.

7 I am alluding to Shaul Magid’s distinction between “hard antinomianism” and “soft antino-mianism,” which I will address below. A similar term to describe the phenomenon is “religious an-archism.”See, e.g.,RivkaSchatzUffenheimer,HasidismasMysticism:Quietistic Elements inEighteenth-Century Hasidic Thought ðPrinceton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993Þ, 242.

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ligious radicalism. I will call the first type “zealous radicalism” and the sec-ond “antinomian radicalism.” Both terms are generalizations, perhaps evenexaggerations; they are not intended to define the phenomena but merelyto label them.It appears that the confusion surrounding the term “religious radical-

ism” was caused by errors in labeling, as researchers from different disci-plines used the term without clearly defining it or its parameters, creatinga confusing, unfortunate homonymy. Nonetheless, linguistic proximities—even when stemming from coincidences or mistakes—may sometimes giveus clues to conceptual proximities. Indeed, the question arises whetherthere is, in fact, some fundamental connection between these two radical-isms. This question can be discussed on a general phenomenological level,but I wish to examine it through the unique case study of Hungarian andGalician Hasidic sects in the nineteenth century, some of which hardly havebeen studied. As I will try to demonstrate, both types of religious radicalismdwell together in the writings of some of the Hungarian and Galician Ha-sidic masters, with no perceivable tension or need to reconcile them. Thisastonishing harmony, along with a few other characteristics of Hungarianand Galician Hasidism, demands clarifications of more general concepts, asI will try to present in the last section of this article. Based on the sourcesthat I will cite, I will attempt to demonstrate a unique aspect of the complexrelationship between the religious radical and religious law, which stemsfrom the fact that the radical represents an aspiration to a higher religiosity,transcending standard religious norms. As Albert Baumgarten has alreadynoted, this aspiration to raise the bar of holiness can sometimes lead thereligious radical to hypernomianism and at other times to antinomianism;8

to this I will add that it may also lead, surprisingly, to both of them con-currently.

II. THE IDEOLOGICAL TRANSFORMATION OF HASIDISM

In the course of the early nineteenth century, the Hasidic movement un-derwent a profound transformation. The revolutionary mystical circle thatwas established by Rabbi Yisrael Baal Shem Tov ðthe BESHT, 1700–1760Þgradually turned into a conservative movement with entrenched dynasticleadership and a clear agenda of opposition to any deviation from religiouslaw.9 In the face of growing challenges to tradition, Hasidism joined with

8 Albert Baumgarten, “LeIfyun HaKannaut HaDattit” ½What is religious extremism?�, in Kan-naut Datit ½Religious radicalism�, ed. Meir Litvak and Ora Limor ð Jerusalem: Zalman ShazarCenter for Jewish History, 2008Þ, 50.

9 This process has been described extensively by Piekarz, in his book Polish HasidismðHasidut PolinÞ and in many of his other books. For a sociological analysis, see StephenSharot, “Hasidism and the Routinization of Charisma,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion19, no. 4 ð1980Þ: 325–36, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1386127?seq59&.

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emerging Orthodox Judaism, which had turned against the various mod-ernist movements. These characteristics typify most Hasidic sects to thisday. Some Hasidic leaders—especially in Galicia and Hungary—went fur-ther than others in their adoption of extremist Orthodox positions, foughtthe modernists more fiercely than others, aspired to segregate themselvesfrom them, and often included among the modernists some of the moremoderate Orthodox. The Hasidic sects of Belz, Sanz, and Dynow in Galicia,as well as Sziget, Munkacs ðan offspring of DynowÞ, and Liszka in Hungarywere among the most prominent in this regard.The central ideal in earlyHasidismwas devekut ðcleaving toGodÞ, a state of

personal communion with the godhead to the point of unio mystica. Thetheological basis of this ideal was the belief, originated in the Kabbalah,that God is omnipresent ð“The whole earth is full of his glory”; Isa. 6:3Þ, andtherefore his light dwells even in physical objects, and sparks of that lightare captured even in impure and evil objects. During the mystical experi-ence, one is expected to see and feel this omnipresence. In the Hasidicutopia, every Jew was supposed to attain this degree of communion withGod but, until then, the Hasidic leaders soon understood, only a few wouldbe capable of it. A person who achieved this ideal was considered a tzaddikðliterally, “a righteous person”Þ or, in later terminology, a rebbe. Thanks totheir charismatic leadership, the tzaddikim obtained authority over the com-munity that basked in their shadow.10 The simple man, incapable of achiev-ing such a communion with God, is to cling to the tzaddik, become his hasidðadherent, followerÞ and thus achieve communion indirectly.11 The bondwith the tzaddik consists of visits to his court, praying in his congregation,having personal audiences with him, receiving his blessing, and giving pidyonðredemptionÞmoney for his activities. The tzaddik, for his part, is expectedto help the divine light shine upon the Jewish people, in general, and uponhis followers, in particular, and sometimes even to repair their souls. Nat-urally, the new elite of the tzaddikim represented a competing authority tothat of the traditional religious leadership of the Jewish community, therabbis, whose source of power was scholarship and legal acumen.The idea that God dwells even in the impure and the sinful was the prin-

cipal source of early Hasidic antinomian radicalism. For example, the Hasi-dim developed a concept of “elevation of alien thoughts” in prayer. In con-trast to the dominant approach in earlier rabbinic literature, which calledupon the worshipper to repel undesired evil thoughts during prayer, theHasidic masters advised their followers to concentrate on the “holy” source

10 Rachel Elior,Mystical Origins of Hasidism ðOxford: Littman Library, 2006Þ, 126–72; ImmanuelEtkes, “The Zaddik: The Interrelationship between Religious Doctrine and Social Organiza-tion,” in Hasidism Reappraised, ed. Ada Rappaport-Albert ðLondon: Littman Library of JewishCivilization, 1996Þ, 159–67.

11 Samuel H. Dresner, The Zaddik: The Doctrine of the Zaddik according to the Writings of RabbiYaakov Yosef of Polnoy ðNew York: Schocken, 1974Þ, 128–41.


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of the evil thought, thus elevating it to its divine source and nullifying its evilnature. This practice was described, in terms borrowed from Lurianic ter-minology, as part of the effort to uplift the “sparks” of divine light, which sincethe Creation have been spread throughout our “lowly” world.12

Another radical doctrine was the “descent of the tzaddik.” Hasidic theol-ogy “views the material world as the ultimate locus of divine creativity andpresence which the mystical virtuoso ½i.e., the tzaddik� is charged to nurtureand preserve.”13 This entailed the idea of Avodah BeGashmiyut ðworshipthrough corporealityÞ, according to which the tzaddik ðand sometimes eventhe ordinary HasidÞ is called to find the divine light not only in religiousand ritual acts, such as the practice of Halakhah ð Jewish lawÞ, but also inmundane acts like eating and drinking. By this spiritual endeavor, the tzaddikaspired “to integrate the perception of the material realm in a spiritualizedform into a greater vision of its transcendent source while reaffirming thecontinued value of differentiated phenomena as the terrestrial dwellingplace of the Infinite One.”14

The tzaddikim did not descend only to the realm of the corporeal worldbut sometimes to its dangerous bottom—the realm of evil. In opposition tothe basic rabbinic tenet “do not associate yourself with the wicked” ðMish-nah Avot 1:7Þ, the early Hasidic thinkers taught that the tzaddikim, as partof their effort to achieve unity with the divine, should engage themselveswith “the mob,” and even with sinners, in order to redeem them.15 Thefathers of Hasidism were well aware of the dangers of this practice. TheBESHT is reported to have said, “A spade may clean the whole courtyard,but is itself dirty; thus, a man may purify the whole world, but some of the

12 Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 273–79; Louis Jacobs, “The Uplifting of Sparks inLater Jewish Mysticism,” in Jewish Spirituality: From Sixteenth Century Revival to the Present, ed.Arthur Green, vol. 2 ðLondon: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1987Þ, and Hasidic Prayer ðLondon:Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1993Þ, 104–20.

13 Seth Brody, “‘Open to Me the Gates of Righteousness’: The Pursuit of Holiness and Non-duality in Early Hasidic Teaching,” Jewish Quarterly Review 89, nos. 1–2 ð July–October 1998Þ: 43.

14 Ibid. Indeed, in older scholarship much emphasis is placed on “worship through corpo-reality” as an affirmation of the corporeal world and thus the denial of asceticism. This interpre-tive tendency is dominant even in the most recent and comprehensive book on the subject; seeTzippi Kauffman, BeKhol Derakheikha Da’ehu ½In all your ways know him� ðRamat Gan: Bar IlanUniversity Press, 2009Þ. As more recent scholars have rightly pointed out, however, this doctrinehas another aspect: it aspires to transcend the corporeal world, sometimes by suppressingcorporeal pleasures, especially in the sexual sphere. This latter tendency often entailed hyper-nomianism and sometimes even a degree of asceticism. For a survey of the literature on thistopic, see Gadi Sagiv, “Tikun HaBerit VeSiah HaSagfanut BeHasidut Tchernobil,” Mehkerei Yeru-shalayim BeMahshevet Yisrael 23 ð2011Þ: 356–58, and the rich bibliography in nn. 3–6; BenjaminBrown, “‘Kedushah’: The Abstinence of Married Men in Gur, Slonim, and Toldot Aharon,” JewishHistory ðforthcomingÞ. On the hypernomian strictures that often resulted from the embrace ofmystical theology, see Talya Fishman, “A Kabbalistic Perspective on Gender-Specific Command-ments: On the Interplay of Symbols and Society,” AJS Review 17, no. 2 ð1992Þ: 241–45.

15 Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 288–302. This includes the meeting with the soul ofboth living and dead sinners.


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evil sticks to him.”16 But he nevertheless insisted: “One must descend to hellfor the Lord’s sake.”17 The BESHT himself is said to have “descended” intothe abyss in order to redeem the soul of the false messiah Sabbatai Tzvi—who, upon being found on the same plane as Jesus, grabbed the BESHT’shand and almost captured him for the forces of evil.18 Some Hasidic think-ers also recommended desiring “that which is opposed to the command-ment” ði.e., sinÞ and then “breaking” that desire.19 Others went furtherand adopted an even more radical doctrine: the actual performance of asin—“sin for the sake of Heaven.”20

The concept of sin for the sake of Heaven was not invented by Hasidism.In fact, its source is the Babylonian Talmud: “Rabbi Nahman bar Yitzhak said:‘A sin for the sake of heaven is greater than a commandment ½performed�for the sake of another purpose.’”21 According to Rashi’s commentary, a sinfor the sake of Heaven is a transgression committed for the purpose of ful-filling a commandment. A classic Talmudic example of a sin for the sake ofHeaven is the biblical story of Yael, who had sexual relations with the Ca-naanite general Sisra in order to kill him, thus enabling the Israelite militaryeffort to win the battle.The Talmud, then, appears to justify a transgression performed in order to

achieve a positive religious goal. This is a bold approach to religious law, as itis certainly antiestablishment and has the potential to be antinomian. It isnot surprising that this concept did not have much influence on medievaland early modern Jewish thought. This changed in the seventeenth centurywithin the context of Sabbatean theology, which based itself on kabbalisticliterature but took the concept in its own antinomian direction, expressing aradical approach that sanctified the performance of a transgression in or-der to achieve the messianic restoration.22 Even after Sabbatianism was de-nounced as heresy at the end of the seventeenth century, this doctrine

16 Rabbi Raphael of Bershed, Peer LaYeshrim ð Jerusalem: Shmuel Zuckerman Press, 1921Þ,21b. See also Kalonymus Kalman of Krakow, Maor VaShemesh ð Jerusalem: Even Yisrael, 1992Þ,Shemini, 1:315; Rabbi Yisrael of Kozhnitz, Avodat Yisrael ðWarsaw: Feivel Bornstein Press, 1878Þ,Parah, 27a, attributed to Rabbi Elimelech of Lizansk.

17 Rabbi Raphael of Bershed, Peer LaYesharim.18 Rabbi Dov Baer of Linits, In Praise of the Baal Shem To, trans. D. Ben Amos and Jerome R.

Mintz ðBloomington: Indiana University Press, 1970Þ, 86–87.19 Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 204–38, 37–44.20 Kauffman, BeKhol Derakheikha Da’ehu, 220–23, 228, 523–71; Jerome I. Gellman, The Fear, the

Trembling, and the Fire: Kierkegaard and Hasidic Masters on the Binding of Isaac ðLanham, MD: Uni-versity Press of America, 1994Þ, 47–53, and Abraham! Abraham! Kierkegaard and the Hasidim on theBinding of Isaac ðAldershot: Ashgate, 2003Þ, 65–76. See also in Dresner, The Zaddik, 173–215.

21 Rabbi Isadore Epstein translates: “A transgression performed with good intentions is betterthan a precept performed with evil intention,” BT Nazir, 23b, in The Talmud ðLondon: SoncinoPress, 1935Þ; parallel in BT Horayot, 10b. See analyses in Rabbi Yehudah Kupperman, “AverahLishmah,” HaMaayan 31, no. 1 ð1991Þ: 15–33; Rabbi Zvi Haber, “Averah LeShem Shamayim,”Maaliyot 21 ð1999Þ: 205–28, http://www.ybm.org.il/hebrew/LessonArticle.aspx?item52980.

22 Gershom Scholem, “Redemption through Sin,” in The Messianic Idea in Judaism ðNewYork: Schocken, 1971Þ, 78–141.


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continued to find expression in radical kabbalistic circles among the Centraland Eastern European Jews, although it was formulated in a more moderateand limited fashion.23 One of these circles was that of the BESHT, fromwhich Hasidism emerged.In early Hasidism, the doctrine of sin for the sake of Heaven was not

emphasized. Hasidic thinkers, who placed emphasis on the “power ofthought,” transferred the idea of descending into evil to the contemplativelevel and were careful not to pave the way for its implementation in prac-tice.24 There are no extant testimonies that describe the Hasidim commit-ting acts that were justified as sins for the sake of Heaven, but it clearly ap-pears from both Hasidic and anti-Hasidic works that the idea was used tojustify the Hasidim’s tendency to extend the time for initiating prayer or per-forming other commandments.25 This practice was intended to maximizethe Hasid’s concentration ðKavvanahÞ, enthusiasm, and “purity of heart.”Another goal of the late prayer was to ensure bodily cleanliness, thus guar-anteeing the purity of the worshipper. We may assume that the doctrine ofsin for the sake of Heaven paved the way for similarly minor deviations fromthe Halakhah and custom.26

Indeed, early Hasidism, with all of its ideological boldness, was carefulnot to break through the boundaries. If we employ Shaul Magid’s distinc-tion between “hard” and “soft” antinomianism, Hasidism, even in its earlystages, should be counted among the soft.27 The Hasidic masters nevermeant to “usurp the authority of the legal and/or moral code” that limitedtheir activities and did not intend “to forge a severe and permanent rup-ture with the system in which they exist½ed�” but rather introduced “a sub-jective, experiential source of authority that may temporarily be in conflictwith an external body of law or norms but does not comprehensively sup-plant it.”28 As Gershom Scholem rightly noted, “Hasidism did not go the

23 Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 190, 244.24 The term “power of thought” appears more often in later Hasidic writings but is very com-

patible with the conceptions of the earlier Hasidic masters. See my article: Benjamin Brown,“‘But Me No Buts’: The Theological Debate between the Hasidim and the Mitnagdim in Lightof the Discourse-Markers Theory,” Numen: International Review for the History of Religions ðforth-comingÞ.

25 Rabbi Abrahan Abbele of Tchudnov, “Comments,” in Darkhei Yesharim, ed. Rabbi MenahemMendl of Permishlan ðZolkiew, 1794Þ, 23–24 ðpagination added in the Israel National Libraryversion: http://jnul.huji.ac.il/dl/books/djvu/1876158/index.djvu?djvuopts&thumbnails5yes&zoom5pageÞ; Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak Horowitz ðthe Seer of LublinÞ, Zikkaron Zot ðMunkacs: KalischPress, 1942Þ, Pinehas, 123–24; Rabbi Hayim of Volozhin, Nefesh HaHayim ðVilna: Mann & SimmelPress 1837Þ, interim chaps. 7, 90.

26 For example, the adoption of the “Sephardi” version of prayer. See Jacobs, “TheUplifting ofSparks in Later Jewish Mysticism,” 36–42, 154–61, or their custom of slaughtering with honedknives; see Chone Shmeruk, “Mashma’utah HaHevratit shel HaShehitahHaHasidit” ½The socialsignificance ofHasidic ritual slaughter�, Zion 20 ð1955Þ: 47–72.

27 Magid, Hasidism on the Margin, 215–16.28 Ibid.


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way of Sabbatianism; its leaders were far too connected with the life of thecommunity to succumb to the danger of sectarianism.”29

Nonetheless, Hasidism did present a form of antinomian radicalism. Therabbinic critics of the movement, the Mitnagdim, portrayed it as a danger-ous sect that undermined the foundations of Jewish tradition.30 The mostprominent leader of the Mitnagdim in the first decades of the nineteenthcentury, Rabbi Hayim of Volozhin ð1749–1821Þ, referred directly to the ideaof sin for the sake of Heaven and its Hasidic application. The Hasidim, hesaid, justify all their deviations from the law as sins for the sake of Heaven.This Talmudic doctrine, he taught, applied only to the period that precededthe giving of the Torah, or to Gentiles; when used by contemporary Jews,it renders all the commandments superfluous.31 Arguments in favor of sinfor the sake of Heaven, he warned elsewhere, were nothing but the tempta-tions of the evil inclination.32

The radical elements in early Hasidism were soon neutralized, however.Already in the third generation of the Hasidic movement, there were grow-ing signs of institutionalization and, as Mendel Piekarz put it, a “retreat tothe heteronomous elements of the religion,” a process that grew particularlystrong from the fourth generation onward.33 Some scholars referred to theyear 1815 as a symbolic turning point in the history of Hasidism, whichended the early period and opened the later one.34 In that year the Congressof Vienna reshaped the borders of Eastern Europe. Galicia was returned tofull Austrian rule, and its Hasidic leaders became closely linked with thoseof Hungary, who now shared the same sovereign.35 Hungarian Hasidism re-ceived another major boost in the same year when Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum

29 Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, 346. Rivka Schatz Uffenheimer regards it as aresult of Hasidism’s “historical responsibility towards the Jewish people and towards theHalakhah” ðUffenheimer, Hasidism as MysticismÞ, 251.

30 See Mordecai Wilensky, “The Hostile Phase,” in Tolerance and Movements of Religious Dissentin Eastern Europe, ed. Bela K. Kiraly ðNew York: Columbia University Press, 1975Þ, 89–114.

31 Quoted in Rabbi Asher HaCohen, Keter Rosh ðOrhot HayimÞ ðValozhin, 1819Þ, art. 132. Seealso art. 72.

32 Rabbi Hayim of Volozhin, Nefesh HaHayim, interim chaps. 7, 90. See also sec. 1, chap. 22,45–46.

33 Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 50.34 Dubnow was apparently the first to suggest this date as a turning point; see Simon Dubnow,

Toldot HaHasidut ½History of Hasidism� ðTel Aviv: Dvir, 1960Þ, 37. See also Joseph Dan, “Hasidism:The Third Century,” in Rapoport-Albert, Hasidism Reappraised, 415–16, and the referencestherein. Even if this date is not crucial for the history of Hasidism on the whole, as some scholarssuggest today, it is certainly critical for the history of the movement in Galicia and Hungary.

35 The primary dispersion of Hungarian Hasidism was in the area of the Carpathian Moun-tains, including the area of Marmaros ðMaramuresÞ, as well as the foothills of the Carpathians,including the areas of Munkacs ðNulayfcp, MukacevoÞ and Szabolcs. These areas were calledthe Unterland, and their dominant language was Yiddish, while the more central areas of Hun-gary were called Oberland, where the Jews primarily spoke Hungarian and German. See Mi-chael K. Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition,” in The Uses ofTradition, ed. JackWertheimer ð Jerusalem: JewishTheological Seminary ofAmerica, 1992Þ, 41–42;Jacob Katz, A House Divided: Orthodoxy and Schism in Nineteenth-Century Central European JewryðHanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 1998Þ, 48–69.


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ðknown as the Yismah Moishe, 1759–1841Þ, the Galician-born rabbi of UyhelðSatoraljaujhelyÞ, assumed the title of rebbe and founded a new “court.”Around that year, some of the more prominent tzaddikim of the earlier gen-erations passed away.This change manifested itself in a number of ways: Hasidism began to

place less emphasis on the mystical experience and sometimes even abro-gated it altogether; some Hasidic sects developed more reserved directionsas avenues for channeling religious energy; Hasidic leaders lessened their en-gagement in kabbalistic literature and encouraged the study of the Talmudand the halakhic codes; certain branches of Hasidism developed the modelof the “rabbi-rebbe,” a personality that combined the qualities and authori-ties of the tzaddik and the rabbinic authority and harmonized the two po-tentially conflicting posts. In contrast to early Hasidism, in which leadershipwas based on charismatic qualities and generally passed from teacher todisciple, later Hasidism developed a process of “institutionalized charisma”and dynastic leadership that was generally passed from father to son.36 Themore Hasidism found itself struggling against the Haskalah ð Jewish En-lightenmentÞ, Neology ðthe name given to the liberal religious movement inHungaryÞ, secularism, and other Jewish modernist movements, the more itdeveloped “a tendency to ‘ritualization’ of symbols of traditional life, on per-sonal and collective levels alike.”37 The essence of Hasidic identity revolvedaround the principle of “connectedness to the tzaddikim” who establishedthe variousHasidic communities. In addition to actual contact with the rebbe,this connectedness found expression in adherence to the customs, the life-style, and the historical memory of the dynasty.In the course of the nineteenth century, Hasidism adopted many of the

conservative values of its antagonists, the Mitnagdim, and sometimes pre-sented them in an even more extreme manner. It is likely that some of theHasidic rebbes were influenced by the criticisms of their opponents. Fur-thermore, the growing success of modernist movements, which broughtinto question entrenched traditional religious norms, pushed the Hasidimand the Mitnagdim onto the same side of the barricade in an attempt tounify forces against the new enemy that threatened the common elementsof their platforms. Both adopted what Jacob Katz calls an “Orthodox re-sponse” to modernity.38 As we will see, some of the Hasidim demonstratedgreat zeal in this struggle, at times even greater than that of the Mitnagdim.In the struggle between Hasidism and modernity, some courts of the Hun-

36 See, e.g., David Assaf, The Regal Way ðStanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2002Þ, 47–65; Glenn Dynner, Men of Silk: The Hasidic Conquest of Polish Jewish Society ðOxford: OxfordUniversity Press, 2006Þ, 117–36.

37 Eisenstadt, Tradition, Change, and Modernity, 330.38 Jacob Katz, HaHalakhah BaMeitzar: Mikhsholim al Derekh HaOrthodoxia BeHithavutah

½Halakhah in the straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at its inception� ð Jerusalem: Magnes Press,1992Þ, 9–20, and “Orthodoxy in Historical Perspective,” in Studies in Contemporary Jewry, ed.Peter Y. Medding ðBloomington: Indiana University Press 1986Þ, 2:3–17.


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garian and Galician Hasidim stood out for their radical and fervent mili-tancy, often as part of what was later called “ultra-Orthodoxy,” which is amovement representing what we call zealous religious radicalism.39

To summarize, we can point to three primary causes responsible for theconservative trend in later Hasidism: the natural process of “routinization”ðor “maturation”Þ typical of religious movements with a high degree ofspiritual tension, partial internalization of the criticism of the Mitnagdim,and the process of growing “Orthodoxization”—the need to stand in op-position to the new.

III. ZEALOUS RELIGIOUS RADICALISM IN GALICIAN

AND HUNGARIAN HASIDISM

By the middle of the nineteenth century, it was already possible to describethe socioideological world of Galician and Hungarian Hasidisms as com-prised of three main prototypes, based primarily on the character of theleading figures of these groups: ð1Þ Rabbinic Hasidism, which placed strongemphasis on halakhic observance and Torah study, and a portion of whoseleaders could be categorized as rabbi-rebbes ðe.g., Belz, Sanz, Dynow, Uyhel-Sziget, Liszka, and DeshÞ; ð2Þ Kabbalistic-Mystical Hasidism, which preservedmuch of the spirit of early Hasidism, such as the ideals of devekut, study ofkabbalistic literature, and elevation of the sparks ðincluding alien thoughtsÞ,at least in the upper strata of Hasidim ðe.g., Ziditchov, Komarno, Spinka, andKosonÞ; and ð3Þ Popular Hasidism, which emphasized the importance ofconnection to tzaddikim, their ability to perform “wonders,” collegiality, andloveof fellow Jews ðe.g.,Kosov-Vizhnitz,Kaliv, and NadvornaÞ. The values andcharacteristics of Popular Hasidism, however, were not limited to those thatwould be categorized as such but were manifested in the other two streamsas well. It would be more accurate to say that almost all of Hungarian andGalician Hasidic sects were popular and that the unique nature of PopularHasidism was that it manifested these values more emphatically and did notadopt the values that were dominant in Rabbinic Hasidism and Kabbalistic-Mystical Hasidism.Among these groups, the kabbalistic-mystical figures were few in number.

Most of the Hungarian and Galician rebbes adopted a highly nomisticapproach and shunned the radical doctrines of early Hasidism.40 LaterHasidic sources often attribute the onset of this approach to the Galician

39 Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy,” 23–84. For Hasidic components of this stream,see 41–42; and Katz,HaHalakhah BaMeitzar, 56–69. Silber sees theMihalowitz “ruling” ð1865Þ asthe official “birthday” of ultra-Orthodoxy, but even if that was the “official” beginning of themovement, basic features of ultra-Orthodoxy existed in Hungary and Galicia long before it.

40 Jacobs, “The Uplifting of Sparks in Later Jewish Mysticism,” 112–20. See also Rabbi JacobJosephof Ostraha,ShivheiRavYeivi ð Jerusalem:Z.Moshkovitch,1966Þ, 56, art. 18;RabbiMordekhaiTwersky of Tchernobil, Likkutei Torah ðPyotrekov: Feivel Belkhatovsky Press, 1889Þ, 6.


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rebbe Rabbi Naftali Tzvi of Ropshitz ðRopczyce; 1760–1827Þ.41 Some of itssigns, however, appear already in his teacher, Rabbi Menahem Mendl ofRymanow ð1745–1815Þ, and even in earlier rebbes.42 Hasidic leaders whoadopted a nomistic approach discouraged the practice of “elevating alienthoughts.” The first among them to negate this practice was Rabbi ShneurZalman of Lyadi ð1745–1812Þ, who already in the late eighteenth centurytaught in his book Tanya that this practice is suitable only for a very fewtzaddikim.43 Many Hungarian and Galician masters followed in his foot-steps, particularly those who could be categorized as rebbe-rabbis.44 Onesuch rebbe was Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh of Dynow ðthe Bnei Yissoskhor, 1783–1841Þ, a disciple of the Rebbe of Rymanow, who sharply opposed thepractice of “elevation of alien thoughts” and sought to reject it as quickly aspossible.45 His reasoning is interesting: he believed that the practice is notonly dangerous to the one who performs it but that it is also forbidden bytheHalakhah under the rubric of the law “you shall not turn aside after yourheart” ðNum. 15:39Þ, a prohibition that apparently did not at all concernthe patriarchs of early Hasidism.Similarly, the doctrine of the “descent of the tzaddik” was virtually ab-

rogated in most of the sects of later Hasidism. Only a few rebbes continuedto associate themselves with sinners in order to redeem their souls. Othersquoted the BESHT’s spade metaphor, but while the BESHT emphasizedthe tzaddik’s duty to save the wicked even at the price of being himselfpartly soiled, the later rebbes used the metaphor in order to explain why

41 Rabbi Ksiel ðYekutiel YehudahÞ Kamelhar, Dor De’ah ðBilgoraj: Druk N. Kronenberg,1893Þ, 139–41. See also Yosef Salmon, “Rabbi Naphtali Zevi of Ropczyce ð‘the Ropshitser’Þ as aHasidic Leader,” in Rapoport-Albert, Hasidism Reappraised, 321–42, esp. 339–41.

42 His highly nomistic approach is expressed both in the decrees he issued to his communitiesand in tales told about him. See Glenn Dynner, “TheHasidic Tale as a Historical Source,” ReligionCompass 4 ð2009Þ: 663–67; Yosef Salmon, “Iggeret HaKodesh BeMar’eh Yehezkel, Teshuvah Kuf-Dalet: Lidemutam shel Rabbi Yehezkel Panet, Rabbi Menahem Mendl MiLinsk and RabbiMenahem Mendl MiRymanow” ½The holy epistle in Mar’eh Yehezkel, responsum 104: To thecharacters of Rabbi Yehezkel Panet, Rabbi Menahem Mendl of Linsk and Rabbi MenahemMendl of Rymanow�, Da’at 68–69 ð2010Þ: 77–97, and “Mevasrei HaUltra-Orthodoxia BeGali-cia uveHungaria: Rabbi Menahem Mendl MiRymanow VeTalmidav” ½The forerunners of ultra-Orthodoxy in Galicia and Hungary: Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rymanow and his students�Zehuyot 2 ð2012Þ: 25–54; David Assaf, Hitzitz VeNifga’: Anatomia shel Mahloket Hasidit ½Beguiled byknowledge: Anatomy of a Hasidic controversy� ðHaifa: University of Haifa Press and YediotSfarim, 2012Þ, 297.

43 Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Lyadi, Tanya ðSlavuta: Shapiro Brothers Press, 1796Þ, 1:28. For afuller account of his position, see Immanuel Etkes, Ba’al HaTanya: Rabbi Shneur Zalman MiLiadyVeReshitah shel Hasidut HABAD ½Ba’al HaTanya: Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady and the Origins ofHABADHasidism� ð Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2011Þ, 159–62.

44 Mendel Piekarz,HaHanhagaHaHasidit ½TheHasidic leadership� ð Jerusalem: Bialik Institute,1999Þ, 220, 294–95. See also Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Friedman of Liszka, Akh Peri Tevuah, vol. 2ðMunkacs: Pinhas Bleier Press, 1876Þ,KiTetze, 164b. At themid-nineteenth century, except for thefew thinkers of the kabbalistic-mystical stream ðmost notably Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac of KomarnoÞ,all the great Hasidic masters seem to have withdrawn from this practice.

45 Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh Shapiro of Dynow, Derekh Pikkudeikha ðLwow: Lubin Press, 1860Þ,9d–10a; Piekarz, HaHanhaga HaHasidit, 351–52.


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they refrain from this practice. Thus, Rabbi Yitzhak Meir of Gur ð1799–1866Þ is quoted as saying, “It is well known that coming close to the wicked,even in order to uplift them, is of great danger, lest they draw the tzaddikto them, God forbid; as the BESHT said, that he who cleans off the mire,even by long and numerous tools, will necessarily have some dirty stains onhim.”46 Only seldom do we find the doctrine, especially in its bolder ver-sions, among later rebbes. In these rare cases it often comes as part of thedoctrine of “sin for the sake of Heaven”—which I will address below.Confronting the modernist movements, all the Hasidic leaders, without

exception, defended the Halakhah and adopted the Orthodox approach.However, while antimodern and traditionalist positions were manifested inalmost all of the Hasidic groups, the ultra-Orthodox line was most pro-nounced in Rabbinic Hasidism in Galicia andHungary. While the patriarchsof the Hungarian Hasidism—Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac Taub of Kaliv ð1751–1821Þand the Yismah Moishe of Uyhel—were not recorded in history amongthose who waged a large-scale battle against modernity, their contemporary,Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh of Dynow, whose writings exerted a strong influencein Hungary and Galicia alike, especially after his death, manifested definitesigns of zealous religious radicalism.47 He condemned any change in Jewishdress and expressed sharp opposition to any study of philosophy, includingclassic Jewish medieval texts, which appeared to him to be exceedingly ra-tionalistic and dangerous to simple faith.48 His approach to the tension be-tween religious law and Hasidic spirituality was certainly nomistic, and heemphasized that Hasidic customs that deviate from the Halakhah have nolegitimacy.49 Thus, for example, he expressed his opposition to the practiceof Hasidim delaying the time of prayer.50

Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh suggested that the burning religious energy of theHasidim be directed toward the adoption of “fences and safeguards”ðgedarim u-syagimÞ beyond the Halakhah, an approach that he views as aclear manifestation of love of God.51 We find a support for the adoption ofsupralegal norms among the Hungarian and Galician tzaddikim in subse-

46 Rabbi Shmuel Shinover, Ramatayim Tzofim ðWarsaw: A. Walden and M. Kollinberg Press,1881Þ, pt. 2, 50–51; see also Horowitz, Zikkaron Zot, Miketz, 30–31; Rabbi Meir Horowitz ofDzhikuv, Imrei Noam ð Jarosław, Poland, 1907Þ, 107d–108a.

47 See Piekarz, HaHanhaga HaHasidit, 336–62.48 Ibid., 337–46. This position was shared by now few of his contemporaries. Regarding the

Yismah Moishe, see Yosef Moshe Sofer, HaGaon HaKadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe ðBrooklyn, NY:Yerushalayim Press, 1984Þ, 226–27.

49 Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh Shapiro of Dynow, Hosafot Mahartza on Sur MeRa VaAse Tovð Jerusalem: Emes, 1997Þ, 27. This approach persisted among later Hungarian and GalicianHasidic masters, as reflected in the following clear and incisive statement of the great-grandson of the Yismah Moishe: Rabbi Hananyah Yom-Tov Lippa Teitelbaum, Kedushat Yom-Tov ðMarmaros-Sziget: Kauffmann Press, 1905Þ, Hukat, 110b–110c.

50 Piekarz, HaHanhaga HaHasidit, 348–49.51 Benjamin Brown, “Hahmara: Hamisha Typusim min HaEt HaHadasha” ðStringency: Five

modern-era typesÞ, Dine Israel 20–21 ð2000Þ: 178–92.


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quent generations.52 Beyond personal self-sanctification, these “fences andsafeguards” doubtlessly served as means of cultural fortification against thereformers, as they were in the legacy of Rabbi Moshe Sofer ðthe HatamSofer, 1762–1839Þ, the father of Hungarian Orthodoxy.53

The stormiest battles between orthodoxy and the “innovators” in Hun-gary and Galicia took place in the 1860s and 1870s. In light of the contro-versy over the prayer norms in a synagogue in the city of Miskolc, a rabbinicsynod was convened in 1865 in Mihalowitz ðMichalowceÞ and issued a well-known “ruling” that imposed sanctions similar to excommunication onanyone who would deviate from the traditional norms of the service.54 Ahost of prominent Hungarian and Galician rabbis signed on to the ruling,as did two prominent Hasidic masters from Galicia: Rabbi Yitzhak IsaacEichenstein of Ziditchov ð1805–73Þ and Rabbi Hayim Halberstam of Sanzðthe Divrei Hayim, 1797½?�–1876, a disciple of Rabbi Naftali of RopshitzÞ.Some view this event as the birth of “ultra-Orthodoxy” in Hungary.55

A few years later, in 1869, the assembly of Orthodox congregations,Shomrei Hadas ðDefenders of the ReligionÞ, met in Budapest in an attemptto advance a newly initiated process designed to attain from the Hungarianand Galician government the legal recognition of the right of the Ortho-dox to create their own communal organization separate from the largerJewish community.56 In 1871, the Orthodox community posted an im-pressive achievement when the Hungarian and Galician parliament offi-cially recognized this right.57 The Teilung ðsecessionÞ policy was more suc-cessful than expected. In dozens of Hungarian Jewish population centers,the Orthodox seceded from the existing Jewish communal organizationsand established separate communities under the auspices of a national or-ganization.58 One of the active figures in the secessions was Rabbi TzviHirsch Friedman ð1808–74Þ, a Hasidic rebbe, admirer of the YismahMoishe

52 Just a few examples out of countless texts: Rabbi Hayim Halberstam, Divrei Hayim al Hamo-adim ðMunkacs: Pinkas Blayer Press, 1877Þ, Hanukkah, 22c, 25c–26d; Rabbi Yekutiel YehudahTeitelbaum,YitavLev ðM.Sziget:MarmaroschenActien-Buchdruckerei, 1875Þ,Bo, sec. 7, 28a–28d,and Rav Tuv ðLemberg: Druck von Jacob Ehrenpreis, 1889Þ, 154a; Friedman, Akh Peri Tevuah,vol. 1 ðMunka´cs: Pinhas Bleier Press, 1870Þ, Bereshit, 6c, and Yitro, 83b; Akh Pri Tevuah, vol. 2,Aharei, 17a, andMatot, 52c; andHaYashar VeHaTov ðMunkacs: Pinkas Blayer Press, 1880Þ, 11a–11b.

53 Jacob Katz, “Contributions towards a Biography of the Hatam Sofer,” in From East and West,ed. Frances Malino and David Sorkin ðLondon: Blackwell, 1990Þ, 223–66;Moshe Samet, “The Be-ginnings of Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 8, no. 3 ð1988Þ: 257, and HeHadash Asur Min HaTorah½Anything new is forbidden by the Torah� ð Jerusalem: Dinur Center, 2005Þ, 300–309. See alsoLeopold Loew, “Zur Geschichte der Juden in Ungarn II,” Ben Chananja 2 ð1859Þ: 193–201.

54 Katz, A House Divided, 77–95; Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy.”55 Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy,” 83.56 According to Hungarian law, every citizen had to be a member of a religious community

recognized by the state. That community was the legal administrative framework for both interioraffairs and interactions with the government.

57 Katz, A House Divided, 202–3; Raphael Patai, The Jews of Hungary ðDetroit: Wayne StateUniversity Press, 1996Þ, 322–23.

58 Nethanel Katzburg, Yahadut Hungaria ½Hungarian Jewry� ð Jerusalem: Yad Vashem, 1992Þ, 17.


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and the Divrei Hayim, who also served as the rabbi of the small communityof Liszka.59 According to one testimony, Rabbi Hayim expressed his wish toadopt the idea of secession and apply it in Galicia.60 His eldest son, RabbiYehezkel Halberstam of Shinev ðSieniawa, 1815–99Þ was an active player inall the secession battles in Galicia andHungary, and later against Zionism.61

Only a few Hasidic rebbes refused to accept the separatist policy.62

In 1878, some years after the secession law in Hungary, the MachzikeiHadas Organization was established in order to promote the idea of se-cession in Galicia. The organization became the first Orthodox politicalparty but failed to achieve the desired legislation because of governmentobjections. However, it gained the support of quite a few Hasidic rebbes,among them leaders of popular Hasidism, such as Rabbi Menahem Mendlof Vizhnitz ðthe Tzemah Tzaddik, 1830–84Þ, who, otherwise a moderaterebbe, wrote a staunch letter against the modernists and took part in the“Lemberg Assembly” convened by the party in 1882.63 Rabbi Yehoshua ofBelz ð1825–94Þ, one of the most prominent rebbes of Galicia, not onlysupported it but eventually took it over. Under his leadership Belz won thereputation of being one of the most conservative Orthodox groups inEastern Europe.64

One of the principal figures in the antimodernist struggle was RabbiYekutiel Yehudah ðZalman LeibÞ Teitelbaum of Sziget, known as the YitavLev ð1808–83Þ, grandson of the YismahMoishe and the leader of one of thelargest and strongest Hasidic groups in the area of Marmaros. In his Ha-sidic writings, the Yitav Lev sharply attacked “those among our people whobreak through ½the boundaries of the Halakhah�.”65 These people “are theones who change their names, their language, their dress, and particularlythemselves by means of the engaging in secular studies, which, as we wit-ness, are inherently evil in that they seduce the Jewish youth away from the

59 Katz, A House Divided, 115–29.60 Rabbi Abraham Simha BunemMichelssohn,Mekor Hayim ðBilgoraj: Druk N. Kronenberg,

1912Þ, art. 404, 120.61 Yehezkel Shraga Frankel, Rabeinu HaKadosh MiShinev ½Our Holy Master of Shinev� ðRamat

Gan: Mishor, 2002Þ, 2:416–51.62 Most of them declared themselves “status quo,” the third movement ðalongside the

Orthodox and the NeologÞ. See Yitzchok Yosef Cohen, Hakhmei Hungariah VeHaSafrutHaToranit Bah ½Sages of Hungary and her Torah literature� ð Jerusalem: Machon Yerushalayim,1997Þ, 146–47.

63 Rabbi Menahem Mendl of Vizhnitz, letter to the Hasidim, quoted in an editorial col-umn ðno titleÞ, Mahazikei HaDas 3, no. 4 ðOctober 28, 1880Þ: 1–2.

64 See, e.g., Abraham Isaac Brumberg,HaAdmorim LeVeit Belz ½The Belzer rebbes� ð Jerusalem:Beit Hillel, 1982Þ, 105–19. This continued in the times of his son, Rabbi Yissokhor-Ber;142–52; Piekarz, Hasidut Polin, 111–12; David Assaf, Untold Tales of the Hasidim: Crisis andDiscontent in the History of Hasidism ðWaltham, MA: Brandeis University Press, 2010Þ, 208–9,227–30, 303–4, 308–9. At that time, Belz refused to use electricity, not because of halakhicdoubts regarding its use on the Sabbath but only because it was “new” ðAssaf, Untold Tales, 229,308 n. 77Þ.

65 Teitelbaum, Yitav Lev, Vayetze, 88a–88b.


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path of God.”66 Those among them who do not observe the Sabbath mustbe classified as mumarim lekhol haTorah kulah ð“habitual sinners in regard toall the Torah,” or convertsÞ.67 Thus, he recommended that Jewish ceme-teries refuse to bury uncircumcised Jewish children, as a sanction on theirsinful fathers.68 As he expressed it, particularly “in this recent generation inwhich the number of those who break through the boundaries set by theyof old time has increased,” it is necessary to take a hard line and “to standagainst them with holy bravura ½azut dikedushah � and to subdue them andhumiliate them so that they not dare to raise a hand to destroy the religion,God forbid.”69 In one of his later homilies he writes that even though thetraits of haughtiness, anger, hatred, and envy are bad, they become goodwhen they are used for the sake of Heaven, as when “one shows anger to-wards those who disobey His will . . . or hate the haters of the Lord, and thelike.” He then adds, “Even the ½actions reflecting� improper traits . . . whendone for His sake, are good and beautiful.”70 Similar ideas appeared in thewritings of other Hasidic leaders of the time.71

Already in 1844, a few years after he assumed the title of rebbe, the YitavLev participated in the European Orthodox campaign against the Reformrabbinical assembly that took place in Braunschweig, Germany, and stoodout for the severity of his reaction.72 In later years he also became involvedin the polemic surrounding the founding of a rabbinical seminary in Ga-licia—and encouraged Machzikei Hadas to take a staunch position againstit.73 The Yitav Lev incurred the wrath of many of the communal leaders in

66 Ibid., and see also Bo, 24c–24d, and Yitav Panim ðHuszt: Druck von Mor Weinstein, 1912Þ,1:149b–149c, Hanukkah, sec. 32, 167c–167d; sec. 36–37, 169a–169b; sec. 39, 170a; sec. 63, 178d–179a; and Yitav Panim, vol. 2 ðMunkacs: P. Blayer, 1883Þ, Zakhor, sec. 10, 25c–25d, ShabbatHaGadol, 57c, 77d–78a, Pessah, 99a–99b, 102d, 145c, 152a–152b; and Rav Tuv, 56b, 100d. Moreon his zealous approach in Menahem Keren, “HaHayim HaTarbutiyim BeMahoz Marmaros:Safrut, Ittonut VeHagut Yehudit Bein HaShanim, 1874–1944” ½Cultural life in Marmaros CountyðHungary and Galicia, Romania, CzechoslovakiaÞ: Literature, press and Jewish thought, 1874–1944� ðMA thesis, Bar Ilan University, Ramat Gan, 2008Þ, 37–38. His relative, Rabbi AsherYesa’ayah Rubin of Ropshitz ð1875–45Þ, even said that the most important principle of Jewishreligion is to be different from the Gentiles, and even when the Jews sin, they are neverthelessabsolved since they keep this first principle; Rabbi Asher Yesha’ayah Rubin, Or Yesha’ ðLemberg:Druck des U. W Salat und J. M. Nik, 1876Þ, for Purim, 4a.

67 Letter cited in Sofer, HaGaon HaKadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe, 459.68 Ibid.69 Teitelbaum, Yitav Lev, n. 52, Vayeshev, 108c.70 Teitelbaum, Rav Tuv, 58a. On the previous page he explicitly mentions the term averah

lishmah, 57d.71 For example, see Friedman, Akh Peri Tevuah, vol. 2, Ekev, 63d; Teitelbaum, Kedushat Yom-

Tov, Shemot, 42b.72 Rabbi Yekutiel Yehudah ðZalman LeibÞ Teitelbaum of Sziget, letter no. 26, in Rabbi Israel

Moshe Hazan et al., Kin’at Tziyon ðAmsterdam, 1845Þ. In the efforts toward the Teilung, he,like other rebbes from the area of the Carpathians, was less active than the Oberland rabbis,since the Reform movement had not spread into their regions and their flocks were thus lessprone to it.

73 Rabbi Yekutiel Yehudah Teitelbaum, She’elot UTeshuvot Avnei Tzedek ðLemberg: U. W. SalatPress, 1885Þ, Orah Hayim, responsum 88.


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his city by closing the Jewish school that had functioned for decades inSziget because it introduced modern educational methods.74 At the sametime, in 1858 he opened a yeshiva, considered the first Hasidic yeshiva inHungary and Galicia, that was under his direct supervision and that didnot deviate an inch from the traditional methods of study.75 When twoHungarian rabbis published a guide for teaching Talmud, which suggestedmore student-friendly methods, several important Hungarian rabbis, mostof them ultra-Orthodox, opposed it vehemently. In the proclamation theyissued, there is an emotional call, similar in formulation to attacks againstthe Reform movement, to boycott this book and “any books published bysimilar reformers” and for anyone who has already acquired the book “todestroy it so that such an inappropriate book not be seen and not befound within the boundaries of the Jewish community.”76 One of the firstsignatories of the proclamation was the Yitav Lev of Sziget. Among theother signatories were a number of other Hasidic rebbes including RabbiShlomo Shapiro of Munkacs ðthe grandson of the Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh ofDynowÞ and Rabbi Menahem Mendl Panet of Desh.77

Similar to his father, the Yitav Lev’s son Rabbi Hananyah Yom Tov LipaTeitelbaum, known as the Kdushas Yom-Tov ð1836–1904Þ, battled againstinnovations in education, fashion, and even home furnishings.78 Accordingto a nonscholarly but apparently trustworthy account, he even used thugsto drive a promiscuous woman out of Sziget, to hurt students of a danceschool, and to “close accounts” with anyone who opposed the rebbe.79 Healso wrote that even though it is desirable for a person to adopt the qualityof compassion, “it is sometimes necessary for any leader of the Jewishpeople to act with cruelty and to use a powerful stick . . . so that they willlisten to his voice, and he can instruct them and lead them with his strongarm on the paths of Torah and its commandments.”80

Indeed, the Galician and Hungarian Hasidic masters unremittingly con-demned and battled against any change in the traditional lifestyle. RabbiHayim of Sanz, for example, not only opposed any change in prayer, as intheMiskolc case, but also objected to the use of modern technologies in the

74 Keren, “HaHayim HaTarbutiyim BeMahoz Marmaros,” 38.75 Ibid., 52; Shlomo Ya’akov Gelbman, Moshi’an shel Yisrael ðMonroe, NY: Abba Berkovitch

Press, 1992Þ, 3:80–81.76 “Kol Kore” ½Proclamation�, Machzikei HaDas, December 20, 1882, 2–3; Berish Weinberger,

ed., Iggrot Shappirin ð Jerusalem: Emes, 1998Þ, letter 22, 68–71. See also Yehoshua Mondshine,“Sefer HaMadrikh VeHaPulmus Sevivo” ½The book “Madrikh” and the debate over it�, in ZakhorLe-Avraham ð1999–2000Þ, 349–80, http://www.shturem.net/index.php?section5blog_new&article_id5188&lang5hebrew.

77 Ibid.78 Keren, “HaHayim HaTarbutiyim BeMahoz Marmaros,” 38–39.79 Schon Dezso, Istenkeresok a Karpatok alatt ðCluj Napoca: Uj Kelet, 1935Þ, 337–46.80 Teitelbaum, Kedushat Yom-Tov, Shemot, 42b.


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service of the Halakhah.81 Thus, he forbade machine-made matzos forPassover and machine-made tzitzit.82 These rulings later became acceptedin all Hasidic circles. His son, Rabbi Yehezkel, disagreed with him on quite afew halakhic questions—on most of which he took a more stringent posi-tion than his father.83

Since it was a given that any reforms in Halakhah were impermissible, alarge part of the efforts of the zealots were directed against changes in areasthat are not governed by Halakhah, particularly in education and culture.Often, their criticism was leveled not against the non-Orthodox but againstthe more moderate Orthodox groups. Thus, in the time Hungarian Or-thodoxy fought for the Teilung, Rabbi Hayim fought furiously against an-other Hasidic dynasty, Sadigura ðRuzhinÞ, which he viewed as corrupt andmodernist. The “Sadigura-Sanz Polemic” ð1869Þ became a painful woundin the history of Hasidism for many years.84 The Yitav Lev ðwhose daughterwas married to Rabbi Hayim’s fourth sonÞ refrained from enforcing thecommunal regulations issued by the Shomrei Hadas organization for allthe Orthodox communities, even though he supported its activities in prin-ciple, not only because he did not want to subjugate his authority to anyother but also because he felt that the stance adopted by the Orthodox or-ganization, whose center was in Budapest, was too moderate.85 His son, theKdushas Yom-Tov, did enforce the regulations, but he did so solely for tacticalreasons, and his approach should therefore not be interpreted as a movetoward moderation.86

In quite a few communities in Hungary and Galicia, primarily in theUnterland, a new phenomenon developed—Hasidic communities sepa-rated from existing Orthodox communal organizations and created theirown independent ultra-Orthodox communities. The first occurrence of thistook place in Grosswardein ðNagyvarad, OradeaÞ in 1862, but the phenom-enon spread to many communities throughout the nineteenth century.87 In

81 Regarding Rabbi Hayim of Sanz, see Iris Brown ðHoizmanÞ, “‘Bittulah shel Torah ZehKiyumah’: Pesikah Ultra-Orthodoxit Beniggud LaHalkhah Lema’an Takanat HaHot’im—Darko HaHilhatit shel Rabbi Hayim MiSanz KeMikreh Mivhan” ½‘The violation of the Torah isits true fulfillment’: Ultra-Orthodox ruling against the Halakhah for the emendation of thesinners—Rabbi Hayim of Sanz as a case study� Tarbiz 78, no. 4 ð2009Þ: 557. The following ex-amples of his ultra-Orthodox stance are based on this study. For the Miskolc case, see RabbiHayim Halberstam, Sheelot UTeshuvot Divrei Hayim, 2 vols. ðLwow: A. Y. Menkes Press, 1875Þ, OrahHayim, vol. 2, responsa 17–18; Jacobs, The Hasidic Prayer, 161–63.

82 Regarding Passover matzos, see Rabbi Hayim Halberstam, Sheelot UTeshuvot Divrei Hayim,Orah Hayim, responsa 1–2. Regarding tzitzit, see Orah Hayim, vol. 1, responsa 23–24.

83 Yosef David Weisberg, Rabbeinu HaKadosh MiSanz ð Jerusalem: Weisberg, 1997Þ, 72–80.84 Assaf, Hitzitz VeNifga’: Anatomia shel Mahloket Hasidit, 145–389.85 Cohen, Hakhmei Hungariah VeHaSafrut HaToranit Bah, 147.86 This move evoked the “Sziget conflict.” See Yehudah Spiegel, Toldot Yisrael VeHitpathut

HaHasidut BeRussia HaCarpatit ½The history of the Jews and the development of Hasidism inCarpathorussia� ðTel Aviv: Spiegel, 1991Þ, 131–74.

87 Michael K. Silber, “Yeshivot Ein Matzui BiMdinatenu Mikama Teamim Nekhonim” ½Thereare no Yeshivot in our land for several good reasons�, in BeMaagalei Hasidim ½Within Hasidic


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at least some of these places, the separation was accompanied by a bitter dis-pute between the Orthodox and the ultra-Orthodox, usually the Hasidim.Some of the Hasidic ultra-Orthodox campaigns took on a harsh tone. Or-thodox rabbis who studied secular disciplines, or even those who studiedin yeshivot in the Oberland ðthe more westernized part of HungaryÞ, fre-quently had to withstand pressure and threats that were designed to pre-vent them from receiving an appointment or to remove them from a po-sition they already occupied.88 After the appearance of Zionism, Zionistrabbis suffered the same treatment.At this stage, we can conclude that the accepted characterization of Gali-

cian and Hungarian Hasidism, and particularly its “rabbinical” wing, as theextreme end of radical ultra-Orthodoxy within European Jewry rests on afirm foundation. We are talking about a group that developed a belligerentand aggressive response to the challenges of modernity and denounced notonly the Reformmovement and other proponents ofmodern innovation butalso anyone who appeared to be a compromiser or too moderate within theOrthodox camp itself. In fact, Hungarian and Galician Hasidism manifesteda nomistic, conservative halakhic line from its inception. It is very likely,however, that the struggle with the forces of modernity strengthened thistendency tremendously. The leaders of Hasidism hurried to expunge ele-ments of early Hasidic thought that appeared to threaten the strict obser-vance of the law, even in matters that did not relate directly to the strugglewith modernity.89 The nomistic stance of these groups brought them notonly to the staunch defense of religious law itself but also to the creation ofan additional line of defense—supralegal fences and safeguards. As in otherforms of ultra-Orthodox response, one may see this defense of “tradition” asthe creation of an “invented tradition”;90 others may see it as one of the pos-sible responses of a genuine tradition.91 One way or another, zealous rad-icalism has become a “trademark” of Hungarian Hasidism and also partlyof Galician Hasidism.

IV. SOFT-ANTINOMIAN RELIGIOUS RADICALISM IN GALICIAN

AND HUNGARIAN HASIDISM

Most of the antinomian elements of early Hasidism ceased to exist in laterforms of Hasidism. The “elevation of alien thoughts” became a concept be-

88 Keren, “HaHayim HaTarbutiyim BeMahoz Marmaros,” 38–39.89 Examples were given at nn. 33, 44, 45, 50.90 Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy.”91 Eisenstadt, Tradition, Change, and Modernity. See also Albert I. Baumgarten and Marina

Rustow, “ Judaism and Tradition: Continuity, Change and Innovation,” in Jewish Studies at theCrossroads of Anthropology andHistory, ed. Ra’anan S. Boustan, Oren Kosansky, andMarina RustowðPhiladelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011Þ, 207–37.

circles�, ed. Immanuel Etkes, David Assaf, Israel Bartal, and Elchanan Reiner ð Jerusalem: BialikInstitute, 2000Þ, 84.


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lieved by a handful of mystic-kabbalistic rebbes; the “descent of the tzaddik”appeared only rarely in its original form; no one recommended playing withthe desire to sin, and most of the rebbes discouraged tampering with theevil inclination. The most dangerous doctrine, averah lishmah, disappearedfrom the teachings of the great majority of the Hasidic rebbes quite early.Becoming part of the emerging Jewish Orthodoxy, Hasidim preferred topush aside anything that menaced halakhic observance. Figures like RabbiMordechai Joseph of Izbica and his disciples ðsuch as his grandson RabbiGershon Heinikh of Radzin and Rabbi Tzaddok HaCohen of LublinÞ, whodid develop this doctrine, have been highlighted by modern scholarship,precisely because of their exceptionality.92 However, this very doctrine con-tinued toflourish—at least as a theory—in themostunexpectedplace: amongthe rebbes ofHungary andGalicia, particularly those of the ultra-conservativerabbinical faction. Those rebbes, who were the first to reject less radicaldoctrines as dangerous, didnot hesitate topreach “holy sin”until as late as theearly twentieth century.93

The concept of sin for the sake of Heaven was developed to its greatestextent by Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh of Dynow ðwhose zealous radicalism wasexamined in the previous sectionÞ.94 According to the radical opinions ofRabbi Tzvi Elimelekh, any person who performs an act that is not for thesake of Heaven is akin to an idolater. He believed that “any act, even thefulfillment of a commandment, which is not done with the intent to honorGod but rather for some other purpose such as the glorification of a per-son or for monetary gain or honor is considered idolatrous because heworships that thing, be it the person or the money.”95 Thus, there can be asituation in which a person fulfills a precept but simultaneously commits atransgression because of his inappropriate intentions. On the other hand,Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh contends, “the opposite can at times be true—‘great isa sin for the sake of heaven’, etc.”96 When a person commits a sin, it is con-sidered a good deed because of its good intention. “When a person doesnot want to perform a sin that is necessary . . . thinking it to be an evil—hisaction is considered improper.”97 As Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh goes on to ex-

92 I will briefly discuss them in the concluding section.93 To be sure, not all the rabbinic-type rebbes of Galicia and Hungary maintained the idea

of averah lishmah. Among the rebbes of Belz, for example, I found no trace of it.94 See Yehoshua Mondshine, “The Fluidity of Categories in Hasidism: ‘Averah Lishmah’ in

the Teachings of Rabbi Zevi Elimelekh of Dynow,” in Rapoport-Albert, Hasidism Reappraised,301–20. Mondshine begins his discussion with Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh but cites many othersources for averah lishmah and similar ideas.

95 RabbiTzvi ElimelekhShapiroof Dynow,AgraDeKhala ðLemberg: Poremba, 1868Þ, 55b–56a,and Bnei Yissaskhar ðZolkiew: Saul Meyerhoffer’s Press, 1850Þ, Adar, 2:10, 2d ðnew numberingÞ.Contrary to the position he expresses here, according to which committing a “sin for the sakeof Heaven” is better than fulfilling a commandment with improper intent, in another text hepresents different priorities. See Bnei Yissaskhar, Sivan, 5:26, 53c.

96 Shapiro, Agra DeKhala.97 Ibid.


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plain, this is why the dividing line between good and evil is very fine, attimes as fine as a hair’s breadth. Nevertheless, a person cannot shirk theresponsibility of distinguishing between them.98 Elsewhere, he explainsthat even though the Halakhah in most normal situations in life directsman’s path, these situations are variable, and at times a person must directhis heart to the “truth” ði.e., to the spirit of the law rather than its literalmeaningÞ and consequently deviate from the Law. Indeed, a person whodoes so might be punished for that deviation, but if his love of God is strongenough, he is not concerned about that. Such a person is ready for anysacrifice, and “for his love of God he would agree to practically descend intohell and, no matter what, would subject himself to eternal damnation justto sanctify His great name.”99

In several places, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh explains that sin for the sake ofHeaven also has a practicalmagic value. In the spirit of the kabbalistic-Hasidicperspective, he claims that every fulfillment of a commandment brings lov-ing kindness ðan abundance of blessings and goodnessÞ from Heaven, whileevery transgression brings “judgments” ðpunishments and plaguesÞ. The sinfor the sake of Heaven has a unique quality—while as a sin it brings judg-ments, it directs them against “the enemies of Israel” and is therefore “tothe benefit of Israel.”100 Needless to say, such statements strengthen themotivation for the implementation of sin for the sake of Heaven.Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh expresses practically no reservations about the

doctrine of sin for the sake of Heaven. I have found one reference in whichhe warns that it can potentially serve as a temptation in the hands of the evilinclination.101 His contemporary, the Yismah Moishe, approached the doc-trine more carefully and in a limited fashion. In general, he recognized thepositive aspects of sin for the sake of Heaven but emphasized that the sinmust indeed be for the sake of Heaven with no benefit or advantage for theperpetrator.102

The Yismah Moishe’s grandson and disciple, the Yitav Lev, is probably themost radical advocate of this antinomian doctrine in the nineteenth century.

98 He also develops this idea elsewhere; Shapiro, Agra DeKhala, Noah, 50c–50d ðart. 28Þ.99 Ibid. As examples, he mentions Abraham, who according to the Midrash sacrificed him-

self in order to avoid worshipping an idol ðBereshit Rabbah 38, 13Þ, even though the Halakhahcommands that in this case he ought to opt for life, and, in contrast, KingDavid, who, accordingto the Talmud, wanted to worship an idol so that the Israelites would not resent God ðBTSanhedrin 107aÞ. In another text, he mentions the daughters of Lot, who had sexual inter-course with their father because they believed it was the only way to assure the continuity ofmankind ðGen. 19, 29–38; interpreted in Agra DeKhala, Re’e, 44dÞ.

100 Shapiro,Agra DeKhala,Behaalotkha, 7c, Shoftim, 47d, andBnei Yissaskhar,Nissan, 4:9, 24c–24d,Kislev-Tevet 4, no. 18, 52a–52b. “Sin for the sake of Heaven” is also a remedy against the evil forcesthat intrude upon the Jews at prayer ðShapiro,Agra DeKhala,Tavo, 53a–53bÞ. This idea influenceda later Hungarian rebbe ðTeitelblaum, Kedushat Yom-Tov, Beshalah, 53b–53cÞ.

101 Shapiro, Agra DeKhala, 48c.102 Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, Yismah Moshe ðBerlin: Pardes, 1928Þ, vol. 1, Miketz, 94a–b,

Vayehi, 114c–114d; and vol. 2, Naso, 43d–44a, Korah, 59b, and Vaethanan, 93a.


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This fact stands out particularly against the background of his characteriza-tion as one of the most radical advocates of the zealous trend in HungarianHasidism. The Yitav Lev addresses the topic of averah lishmah quite a fewtimes in his writings. In most of his talks, the idea is dealt with as part of theideal of lishmah, that is, acting for the sake of Heaven and not for selfishinterests. This principle is dominant in all of his writings, mostly in his lastbook, Rav Tuv.103 It is particularly in his earlier books, however, that the ideaof lishmah sometimes takes the form of averah lishmah. In most of thesebooks, as in most of the other occurrences of the doctrine in the Hasidic lit-erature, the sin is understood as a necessary, indispensible means of achiev-ing a desired end. The Yitav Lev, however, seems to be unique in his impliedcontention that sin for the sake of Heaven should sometimes be performedeven when there is another, sinless way to achieve the goal. His somewhatscrupulous argument about this is made in his homily on the relation be-tween the sin of King Saul, who refused to kill Agag of Amalek ðSam. I 15:1–9Þand the sin of Queen Esther, who married the Gentile King Ahasuerus.One of the early Hasidic thinkers, Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizensk, explained

that Saul refrained from killing Agag because he mistakenly thought thatthe act was forbidden.104 However, Rabbi Elimelekh claimed, God was an-gry with Saul, because even if it were indeed forbidden in principle, heshould have performed it as a sin for the sake of Heaven.105 The Yitav Levtook this idea and developed it further in an outstanding discourse thatwas based on the Talmudic and Midrashic exegetical approach that viewsthe struggle between Mordecai ðand EstherÞ and Haman in the Book ofEsther as a rematch in the struggle between Saul and Agag. In the opinionof the Yitav Lev, Esther sinned when she agreed to marry the king of Per-sia, since mixed marriages are forbidden according to Jewish law. However,this sin was in the category of a sin for the sake of Heaven because it wasnecessary in order to save the Jewish people. In fact, the Yitav Lev explains,it would have been possible to bring about this salvation without the sin, for,as Mordecai himself said, “enlargement and deliverance ½shall� arise to theJews from another place” ðEsther 4:14Þ. Esther, however, was adamant thatthe salvation be brought about through a sin for the sake of Heaven in or-der to correct the mistake of her ancestor Saul, who failed precisely becausehe refrained fromperforming a sin for the sake of Heaven.106 In other words,the Yitav Lev held that even when it is possible to achieve the desired out-come without resorting to a sin for the sake of Heaven, a person is at timesrequired to achieve it specifically by means of such a sin.107

103 Teitelbaum, Rav Tuv.104 Following BT Yoma, 22b.105 Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk, Noam Elimelekh ðLwow: Shlomo Rapoport, 1788Þ, Naso,

70a–70b.106 Teitelbaum, Yitav Lev, Vayikra, 4b–4c, and see also Yitav Panim, vol. 1, Sukkot, sec. 16,

129c–129d.107 He reiterates this idea elsewhere; see ibid., Tavo, 45a.


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The Yitav Lev’s elder contemporary and relative, Rabbi Hayim of Sanzðthe Divrei HayimÞ also teaches that “for the sake of devekut one may crossthe boundaries, and great is a sin for the sake of heaven.”108 He mentionsaverah lishmah by name only a few times.109 But he develops a similar doc-trine at greater length, based on the verse “It is time for thee, Lord, to work,for they have made void thy law” ðPs. 119:126Þ, a verse that had already beeninterpreted in the Talmud as a permission for the rabbinic authorities todeviate from the Halakhah in order to fulfill God’s will.110 In quite a fewhomilies, the Divrei Hayim explains that these authorities are expected notonly to apply the law but also to diverge from it when necessary in orderto cure the religious deficiencies of their generation.111 A recent scholarlywork has shown that the Divrei Hayim actually applied this doctrine in atleast three cases, deviating from what he thought to be the textually correcthalakhic ruling in favor of a more lenient one, in order to minimize poten-tial damages to religious observance.112

Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch of Liszka explained, in line with kabbalistic-Hasidictradition, that the act is the body of the precept, and the intent ðto direct theact for the sake of HeavenÞ is its soul. Thus, when a person fulfills a com-mandment without proper intent, he performs the body of the command-ment without its soul. By contrast, when he performs a “sin for the sake ofHeaven,” he fulfills the soul without the body. Under such circumstances,“God combines the two . . . as if they are one act. And therefore, ‘great is thesin for the sake of heaven,’ for the intent is provided by the sin, whichrepresents the soul . . . and it is well-known that the soul is more sublimethan the body.”113

Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch writes that Jacob, who deceived his father in order totake the birthright from Esau, committed a sin for the sake of Heaven andin that way elevated the transgression to the level of holiness.114 Jacob wasconcerned about deviating from the trait of truthfulness, just as Moses wasconcerned when he lied to Pharaoh, but God taught them that the lie isappropriate in such situations, being classified as a “sin for the sake ofHeaven.”115 A similar idea can be found in the homilies of Rabbi MenahemMendl of Vizhnitz.116 Like his father before him, Rabbi Menahem Mendl

108 Halberstam, Divrei Hayim al Hamoadim, 64c.109 Halberstam, Divrei Hayim al HaTorah ðMunkacs: Pinkas Blayer Press, 1877Þ, Vayeshev, 12b–

12c, Vaethanan, 58d–59a; and Rabbi Hayim, Divrei Hayim al Hamoadim, 63a.110 BT Berakhot 54a and Rashi on that text; ibid., 63a; BT Yoma, 59a; BT Gittin 60a; BT

Temurah 14b.111 See, e.g., Halberstam, Divrei Hayim al HaMoadim, 41c–42a, 43c.112 Brown ðHoizmanÞ, “The Violation of the Torah Is Its True Fulfillment,” 555–91. Compare

the inconsistencies of the Hatam Sofer: Samet, HeHadash, 306–9, 317–18.113 Friedman, Akh Peri Tevuah, Vayera, 22a–22b, and Bo, 88b–88c.114 Ibid., Toldot, 32b–32c.115 Ibid., 59a–59b.116 Rabbi Menahem Mendl of Vizhnitz, Tzemah Tzaddik ðCzernowitz: Rudolf Eckhardt

Press, 1885Þ, vol. 2, Likkutim Niflaim VeHasmattot ½addenda and omissions�, 29a–29b. See alsovol. 1, Bereshit, 3a–3b.


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said that sometimes the tzaddik must perform a transgression in order tofind a common denominator with sinners and thus save their souls.117

What were the deeds that the doctrine of “holy sin” was meant to defend?It is difficult to tell, since most of the texts we have that relate to the doctrineare homiletic and therefore speak about deeds of the fathers and not aboutthe reality of their time. Thus far, I have not found a “smoking gun” in whicha transgression was recorded and then justified by a rebbe as a sin for thesake of Heaven; this definitely does not imply that such events did not oc-cur but rather that when they did occur, they were understandably con-cealed. It is certainly not impossible that the numerous mentions of thedoctrine were altogether theoretical, but it seems to me implausible. Whilethe books of the rebbes were not read by all their followers, and perhaps noteven by most of them, the majority of the texts contained in them were de-livered as oral talks at Sabbath communions ðtishenÞ and were therefore ad-dressed to a real and attentive audience. It is likely, then, that they were un-derstoodby the audience as relevant to their lives. Tobe sure, even if the textshad been purely theoretical, they would still provoke our interest on an in-tellectual and theological level, just as the Izbica writings do, the similar lackof a “smoking gun” notwithstanding.118 We should nonetheless continueto ask ourselves what role the texts played on a social and educational level,and even more so if we assume that they did have some practical meaning.One possibility is that the antinomian texts helped the believers to cope

with the very same problems that bothered the early Hasidic masters, suchas delayed prayers. A hint in that direction may be found in a letter by RabbiZvi Hirsch of Liszka, which does not use the term averah lishmah but in-sinuates a similar, if softer, idea.119 This source notwithstanding, I think thisexplanation is not very likely. Even if the rabbinic rebbes were halakhistswho might have been bothered by such “sins,” by the time these sermonswere delivered, this was no longer an issue, and the Hasidim’s deviationswere already accepted as normative “Hasidic customs.” Furthermore, anti-Hasidic rabbis who criticized such practices did not attack them as abusesof averah lishmah.A more persuasive explanation is that the doctrine was aimed at defend-

ing rulings such as those issued by Rabbi Hayim of Sanz, that is, rulings thatdeviated from the rebbe’s own ðstringentÞ halakhic stance in relatively minorissues in order to safeguard more important halakhic values. Another pos-sibility is that the doctrine was meant to legitimize the brutal measures that

117 Rabbi Hayim of Kosov, Torat Hayim ðLemberg: F. Grossmann Press, 1855Þ, Likkutim½addenda�, 4b. Mendl, Tzemah Tzaddik. Surprisingly enough, even the Yitav Lev raises a similaridea; see Yitav Panim, vol. 1, sec. 16, 129c–129d.

118 See section 5.119 Tzvi Hirsch Friedman, Or HaYashar VeHaTov ðBrooklyn, NY: Empire Press, 1988Þ, 184–

85. This may follow in the footsteps of at least one of the uses of averah lishmah in earlyHasidism. See also 182, regarding the Hasidic divergence from the Halakhah in matters ofTorah learning.


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the Hasidim sometimes took in their struggles against their rivals—both themodernists and their fellow Orthodox. Indeed, a clear use of the term averahlishmah appears in this context in the writings of the Yitav Lev, and perhapssermons referring to the sin of lying should be understood in the sameway.120 The opposite is also possible—that the rebbes used the concept tojustify all cases in which they failed to be consistent with their own staunchideology. For example, nonobservant Jews served in key positions in variousOrthodox communities, and the rabbis often lived with it.121 Similarly, Ha-sidic leaders might have needed to moderate their tough positions in theface of family or other personal considerations.122 However, I have found notrace of attempts to excuse such acts in terms of averah lishmah. It is also pos-sible that more than one of these explanations is correct. There is no doubt,however, that the basic practices of the Galician and Hungarian Hasidimremained nomistic and conservative. Nevertheless, the very fact that theypreserved and developed such a bold doctrine as “sin for the sake of Heaven”is inconsistent with the nature of this branch of Hasidism, which tried to dis-tance itself from any signs of “dangerous” theological ideas, even doctrinesthat were more moderate than this one.Interestingly enough, averah lishmah was not the only early Hasidic model

preserved and developed in the Galician and Hungarian Hasidic commu-nities, despite being neglected in all the rest. Another example is the at-titude of Galician and Hungarian rebbes toward the Kabbalah. While mostHasidic groups discarded kabbalistic literature, and the Hasidim in factwere forbidden to study it in favor of traditional Talmudic learning, Hun-gary and Galicia retained a mystical-kabbalistic school of thought whoserebbes were engaged in extensive study of the secret lore.123 Some of its

120 Teitelbaun, Yitav Lev, 57d–58a. Regarding sermons referring to the sin of lying, see as above,n. 114. Rabbi Yehoshua of Belz legitimized the use of “lies” and “cunning” for holy purposes—fighting the modernists included. See Matityahu Guttman, Belz ðTel Aviv: Netzah Library, 1952Þ,105; Brumberg, HaAdmorim LeVeit Belz, 99. See also 96–97.

121 Tzvi Jacob Abraham, LeKorot HaYahadut BeTransylvania ½On the history of the Jews inTransylvania� ðNew York: Lamberger, 1951Þ, 75; Brown ðHoizmanÞ, “Bittulah shel Torah ZehKiyumah,” 556. This situation is admitted even by the Szatmar Rebbe: Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum,Divrei Yoel al Pirkei Avot ðBrooklyn, NY: Yerushalayim Press, 1996Þ, 122. In some cases, however, theultra-Orthodox did try to fight this phenomenon. See Abraham, LeKorot HaYahadut BeTransyl-vania, 179; Teitelbaum, She’elot UTeshuvot Avnei Tzedek Orah Hayim, responsum 88.

122 Thus, e.g., we know the Yitav Lev gave a letter of endorsement ðhaskamahÞ to a genuinehaskalah book, Derishat HaZeev ðLemberg: Buchdruckerei des Ch. Rohatyn, 1895Þ, by ZeevWolf Porille. This move, which is explained by a Hasidic historian as a mere mistake ðSofer,HaGaon HaKadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe, 180–81Þ, may be partial result of nepotism in view ofthe fact that Porille was married to the Yitav Lev’s niece.

123 For the rejection of the learning of Kabbalah and the favoring of the learning of theTalmud in the majority of the Hasidic groups, see Piekarz, Hasidut Polin, 72–76, and 62, 69;Iris Brown ðHoizmanÞ, “Rabbi Hayim MiSanz: Darkhei Pesikato al Reka Olamo HaRaayoniVeEtgarei Zemano” ½Rabbi Hayin Halberstam of Sanz: His Halakhic decisions in light of his in-tellectual world and the challenges of his time� ðPhD diss., Bar Ilan University, 2004Þ, 182–88;Hanna Kehat, “Temurot BaIdea Shel Talmud Torah BaIdan HaModerni” ½Changes in the con-cept of Torah study in the modern age� ðPhD diss., Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2005Þ,


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masters wrote books on the subject and encouraged their Hasidim to studyit. Even if they emphasized that this study should not take the place of theTalmud and halakhic codes, they did not express reservations about thestudy of Kabbalah itself, as we find, for example, among some of the Hasidicmasters in Galicia and Congress Poland.124 In both Hungary and Galiciawe find rebbe-rabbis who integrated kabbalistic and Hasidic norms into theirhalakhic rulings, though some others, especially fromGalicia, distanced them-selves from such methods.125 We can even find, though very rarely, halakhicrulings based on “divine inspiration,” without reliance on traditional text-based halakhic discourse.126

We also find, albeit infrequently, clear references to mystical experiencesamong Hungarian and Galician kabbalistic-mystic masters, the types of ex-periences that had practically become extinct in late Hasidism. A rebbe whowas particularly known for this was Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac of Komarno ðwhowas Galician but active in both Galicia and HungaryÞ, whose mystical pow-ers could not be overshadowed even by the BESHT’s circle. Rabbi YitzhakIsaac warmly recommends “elevation of alien thoughts” during prayer, incontrast to the teachings of rebbes from the rabbinic stream.127 In fact, evenRabbi Mordechai of Nadvorna, a “popular” rebbe who was active in Galiciaand thenmoved toMarmaros in 1865, reflected a classic mystical personalityin his prayers and lifestyle. Among his homilies we find several texts thatrefer to the active mystical experience as an ideal in a manner reminiscentof early Hasidism.128

288–98. In contrast, in Hungary and Galicia the influence of the positive attitude toward kab-balistic learning is traced even outside the mystical-kabbalistic stream. Thus, we can find it inthe “popular” dynasty of Kaliv and in the “rabbinic” Dynow dynasty. In Kaliv, see, e.g., Rabbi Me-nahem Shlomo Taub, Hakkal Tappuhin ðBrooklyn, NY, 1970Þ. In Dynow, Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Sha-piro, a prominent halakhist and the author of the legal book Darkhei Teshuvah, 7 vols. ðVilna-Munkacs: various publishers, 1892–1927Þ, is also the author of the kabbalistic book Beer LaHaiRoi ðMunkacs: Kahane & Fried Press, 1903Þ.

124 Thus, Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch of Liszka instructs his Hasidim to study Halakhah during the weekand Kabbalah on the Sabbath ðFriedman, Akh Peri Tevuah, vol. 1, Vayigash, 50cÞ. Even a rebbe aslate as Rabbi Hayim Shlomo of Koson, when warning against neglecting the Halakhah in favorof the Kabbalah, definitely sees its study as positive. See Rabbi Hayim Shlomo Ruttenberg ofKoson, Shemu’ah Tovah ðNew York: Modern Lineotype Press, 1943Þ, Aharei, 37.

125 In Hungary and Galicia, an important example for this trend is Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac ofKomarno’s Shulhan HaTahor ðTel Aviv: HeAsor, 1963–65Þ. For other examples, see Rabbi TzviHirsch Shapiro, Darkhei Teshuvah, vol. 5, chap. 181, art. 15–16 ð244c–245aÞ. See also Iris BrownðHoizmanÞ, “Bein Rabbanut LeAdmorut: Halakhah VeKabbalah BeKhitveihem shel ShneiAdmorim-PoskimMiBeit Sanz” ½Between the Rabbinic and the Hasidic: Halakhah and Kabbalahin the writings of two rabbi-rebbes of the Sanz dynasty�, in Rabbanut: HaEtgar ½Rabbis and rabbin-ate: The challenge�, ed. Yedidia Stern and Shuki Friedman ð Jerusalem: Israel Democracy Insti-tute and Am OvedÞ, 2011, 871–934; see Brown ðHoizmanÞ on those who distanced themselves.

126 See, e.g., Tuviah L. Szilagyi-Windt,HaTzaddik MiKalov VeKehillato ½The Tzaddik of Kaliv andhis town� ðTel Aviv: Neographica, 1975Þ, 39–56.

127 Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac Safrin of Komarno, Heikhal HaBerakha ð Jerusalem: Komarno Insti-tutions, 2005Þ, vol. 1, Haye Sarah, 131c–131d, and Miketz, 248c–248d.

128 RabbiMordecaiLeifer ofNadvorna,MaamarMordekhai, ed.HayimEliezerKalir ðMarmaros-Sziget: Wieder & Rosental, 1900Þ, Tavo, 12b–12c.


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Much more surprising than the Hungarian and Galician rebbes’ open-ness to Kabbalah and mystical experience is the Hungarian ðbut not Ga-licianÞ openness to works of Jewish philosophy. While Hungarian rebbesdisplayed the most severe opposition to the study of philosophy, many ofthem were wont to refer to medieval Jewish philosophical literature.129 Arelatively moderate rebbe like Rabbi Abraham Mordecai of Gur wrote thathe tried to refrain from openingMaimonides’sGuide for the Perplexed.130 Therebbes of Hungary and Galicia, however, made use of it without any res-ervation or apology.131 The Yismah Moishe even made at least five explicitreferences to the concordance of the Bible—a pattern typical of Haskalahwritings and certainly not of Hasidic literature.132 Similarly, Hungarianrebbes showed a readiness to refer to eccentric Hasidic works that werebanned in other regions, such as those of Rabbi Nahman of Bratzlav.133

In Hungary ðbut not in GaliciaÞ we find another early Hasidic patternpreserved: the emergence of “new” rebbes without dynastic lineage. In con-trast to Hasidism in most other regions, which abandoned the early Hasidic

129 As I have shown above (in Sec. III), Rabbi Tzvi Elimelekh of Dynow had an importantrole in the formation of this trend. See Piekarz, BiYmei Tzemihat HaHasidut, 337–40, on theanti-philosophic trend in later Hasidism.

130 Rabbi AvrahamMordechai Alter of Gur, Imrei Emet: Likkutim ðTel Aviv, 1988Þ, 126. Needlessto say, more zealous rebbes often shunned the Guide even more. See Brumberg, HaAdmorimLeVeit Belz, 117–18.

131 This is particularly true for the Yismah Moishe, who mentions the Guide quite a fewtimes. This fact and its peculiarity were mentioned even by one of his Hasidic biographers.According to one late source, the Yismah Moishe even saw himself as sharing a common “rootof the souls” with Moses Maimonides. See Israel Yaakov Teitelbaum, “Tehillah LeMoshe,”in Heitev Eitiv ðBrooklyn, NY: Y. Gross Press, 1972Þ, 229, but this alone does not prove hisacceptance of the great rationalist philosopher’s ideas. We have found in the history of Ha-sidism cases in which the term “roots of the souls” denoting commonality did not entailidentification in terms of opinions. The Yismah Moishe also makes frequent references toother medieval thinkers, such as Rabbi Yosef Albo, Rabbi Yitzhak Arama, and Rabbi YitzhakAbravanel. References to such books are not absent in subsequent generations, notably in thebooks of the Yismah Moishe’s grandson, the Yitav Lev.

132 Teitelbaum, Yismah Moshe, vol. 1, Bereshit, 4a, Toldot, 69a, Vaera, 136d; and vol. 2, Emor,32a, Devarim, 89b. He uses the Latin word “concordantiae ”; as far as I know, there was no Jewishbook that bore this title during his lifetime. No less surprising is the fact that he appears asone of those who preordered the book Mosdot Tevel ðVienna: Anton Strauss Buchdruckerei,1820Þ by the Haskalah author David Friesenhausen ðironically, the book appeared with theauthor’s “Testament” that contained a very pejorative description of the Yismah Moishe andhis use of magic; 77a–79aÞ.

133 On the struggle against the Bratzlav Hasidim, see David Assaf, Untold Tales of the Hasidim,120–53. Consequently, we hardly ever find references to Rabbi Nahman or his teachings inHasidic literature written outside the circle of his followers. To refute the image of an isolatedand unrecognized Hasidic group, an anonymous recent author, probably a Bratzlaver Hasid,wrote the book Shivho shel Tzaddik ½Praise of the Tzaddik� ð Jerusalem, 1995Þ, which collectedalleged sayings ðmost of them dubiousÞ of numerous rebbes in praise of Rabbi Nahman. Thesecond part of the book, however, collected references to non-Bratzlav books that mentionRabbi Nahman or his works. Among the Hasidic authors on this list, the number and seniorityof the Hungarian rebbes are conspicuous. The popularity of the Bratzlav books among Hungar-ian Hasidim was already reported in the earliest scholarly account of Hasidism in Hungary. SeeLoew, “Zur Geschichte der Juden inUngarn II,” 204. So far as we know, Rabbi Nahman’s writingsbegan to attract larger circles of young Polish Hasidim only at the end of the nineteenth century.


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model of charismatic leadership in favor of the establishmentarian-dynasticmodel, blocking the possibility of the rise of masters who were not einiklekhðdescendantsÞ of earlier rebbes, in Hungary there was much greater dyna-mism on this issue. A sizable number ofHungarian rabbis, even somewithouta Hasidic background, developed a community of fervent adherents thatturned into a Hasidic sect.134 At times, this process was not completed in arabbi’s lifetime but came to fruition in his children’s generation. This phe-nomenon took place not only throughout the nineteenth century but also inthe twentieth century and, in essence, until the present day. Furthermore,at least in a particular period of Hungarian Hasidism—the end of the nine-teenth century and beginning of the twentieth century—the relationship tothe tzaddikim took on a more flexible quality than elsewhere. Some Hasidimwere connected to one particular rebbe, but others were connected to sev-eral rebbes. There were also “all-embracing” Hasidim who did not followany particular rebbe but would occasionally “travel” to any rebbe that hap-pened to be in their area.135

All of these indicators testify to the fact that the Hungarian and GalicianHasidisms, which were rightly considered to be extremely hard-line andtraditionalist, preserved signs of religious vibrancy and dynamism charac-teristic of early Hasidism that their counterparts in other parts of EasternEurope did not. In parallel, their transformation to establishmentarianismwas also more moderate in certain aspects. It is very likely that their pres-ervation of the antinomian-radical doctrine of sin for the sake of Heaven isconnected to this trend. In light of the otherwise establishmentarian, no-mistic, and conservative disposition of Hungarian and Galician Hasidisms,it is incumbent upon us to explain this “two-faced” nature of these move-ments, as I will attempt to do in the next section.

V. ZEALOUS RADICALISM AND ANTINOMIAN RADICALISM—COMPLEMENTARY OPPOSITES?

The Hasidic masters of Hungary and Galicia saw no contradiction betweentheir objection to “sinners” and their advocacy of “holy sin.”136 In theiroutlook, the sins of the reformers and “innovators” were not for the sake ofHeaven and were not designed to sanctify the name of God but to satisfytheir evil inclinations. The tension between the two positions is thereforenot on the logical but rather on the phenomenological level. In many in-

134 Such as the dynasties of Tohsh, Puppe, Bikszad, Erloy, and Dushinsky, to name just a few.In contrast, Rabbi Ahra’le Roth was not even a rabbi.

135 This is implied in Yosef Cohen and Shlomo Yaakov Gross, Sefer Marmaros ½The Marmarosbook� ðTel Aviv: Beit Marmaros, 1983Þ, 31–37.

136 In fact, I have found no texts in which a Hasidic rebbe showed any awareness of this appar-ent tension nor any text by a critic that pointed out this prima facie incongruity. Furthermore, thetone of the discussions on this topic is not polemical.


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stances, a defensive posture against the forces of modernity leads tradi-tionalist movements to suppress “dangerous” and antinomian elements,whether practical or theoretical, and “retreat to the heteronomous elementsof the religion”; we might therefore expect that the more a movement isantimodern, the further it will go in pursuit of these goals, and we mightalso expect that the more a doctrine is perceived as “dangerous,” the morea traditionalist movement will seek to suppress it. But the Hungarian and Ga-lician Hasidic masters defeat these expectations. The suppressive dynamic isquite apparent in Hasidic groups that are much more moderate than Hun-garian and Galician Hasidism and at times in regard to doctrines that aremuch more moderate than sin for the sake of Heaven. While the suppres-sive dynamic existed in Hungarian and Galician Hasidism, we also find astrong tendency toward the preservation and development of one of themost “dangerous” doctrines—sin for the sake of Heaven—occurring simul-taneously. This combination is certainly unusual.For the purpose of comparison, let us discuss the Hasidic sect of Izbica. In

contrast to Hungarian and Galician Hasidism, which have not been heavilyresearched, Izbica Hasidism and its extensions ðsuch as Rabbi TzaddokHaCohen of LublinÞ have in recent years received a good amount of schol-arly attention.137 One of the major reasons for this interest is that its founder,Rabbi Mordecai Joseph Leiner ð1801–54Þ, called for an ongoing search forGod’s will at every moment and established that “this matter at times re-quires acts that are against the Halakhah.”138 He did not utilize the expres-sion “sin for the sake of Heaven” but rather the similar expression, “It is timefor thee, Lord, to work, for they have made void thy law.”139 Such deviationwas permitted, however, only when a person is completely certain that he isacting out of subjugation to God’s will and not out of personal interest. TheRebbe of Izbica clarified that such a person is one who has overcome hisselfish desires and became completely dedicated to the Divine Will.140 Evenunder such circumstances, he indicated that the concept should only be in-voked in rare instances.141 Izbica’s antinomian approach is therefore not

137 The books on this school alone include Morris M. Faierstein, All Is in the Hands ofHeaven: The Teachings of Rabbi Mordecai Joseph Leiner of Izbica ðPiscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press,2005Þ; Magid, Hasidism on the Margin; Gellman, The Fear, and Abraham! Abraham!, 57–90; AlanBrill, Thinking God: The Mysticism of Rabbi Zadok of Lublin ðNew York: Yeshiva University Press,2002Þ, 135–40, 179–80, 191–94; see also http://www.etzion.org.il/dk/5766/1056mamar1.html. To be sure, I did not find any signs of influence or other ties between the rebbes of Izbicaand those of Hungary and Galicia. Furthermore, in spite of their common embrace of “holysin,” the theological contexts of their discussions are often quite different, and so are the stylesand “melodies” of these discussions.

138 RabbiMordecai Yosef Leiner,MeiHaShiloah ðVienna: Adalbert dellaTorre, 1860Þ,VaYeshev,15a–b. Also see Rachel Elior, “Temurot BaMahshava HaDatit BeHasidut Polin: Bein ‘Yir’ah’ve’Ahava’ le’Omek’ ve’Gavan’” ½The innovationofPolishHasidism�,Tarbiz 62, no. 3 ð1993Þ: 417,421–26.

139 See above, at n. 110.140 Elior, “Temurot BaMahshava HaDatit BeHasidut Polin,” 426–27.141 Faierstein, All Is in the Hands of Heaven, 50.


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only “soft” ðas Magid characterizes itÞ but almost castrated.142 And indeed,similar to Hungarian-Galician Hasidism, we find no documentation of devi-ation from halakhic rulings ði.e., “smoking guns”Þ on the part of the IzbicaHasidim ðwe can assume that if such deviations had occurred, we wouldhave known about them from the antagonists of Izbica Hasidism—Kotzkand GurÞ. These ideas were not entirely innovative, either. Izbica Hasidismcame out of the Pshiskha school, which was already known to be eccentricand somewhat antiestablishment. Last but not least, the Rebbe of Izbica didnot adopt a staunch antimodernist approach and therefore could accom-modate “dangerous” ideas with relative ease. In view of all this, Izbica’s “soft-antinomian” ideas are not particularly surprising. The doctrine of averahlishmah in the Hasidisms of Hungary and Galicia are certainly much moreparadoxical and therefore much more intriguing.143

How might these two faces of religious radicalism in Hungarian and Ga-lician Hasidism be explained? It is possible to suggest several concrete ex-planations that relate to the special circumstances in which Hungarian andGalician Hasidism developed and functioned—such as the influence of Kab-balah in these areas.144 Another explanation is the late arrival of Hasidismin Hungary.145 But in this study I prefer to leave them aside. Instead, it seems

142 Magid, Hasidism on the Margin, 215–16.143 It is worth noting that some of the motivation behind the interest in Izbica is ideological

and should be understood as part of the modern search for Jewish theologies that are notcentered on the Halakhah. The ultra-nomistic character of Hasidism in Hungary and Gali-cia definitely cannot serve such purposes. However, on the level of pure scholarship, it is thisparadoxical nature that makes it intriguing.

144 Asmentioned in theprevious section, the rebbes of Hungary andGaliciaweremoreopen tothe study of Kabbalah than rebbes from other areas. The Kabbalah has always embraced a similar“two-faced” character, though not in the context of the struggle against modernity. On the onehand, as quite a few scholars have pointed out, the mystical experience contains an innateantinomian “explosive” quality: Gershom Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism ðNew York:Schocken, 1969Þ, 5–31; Wolfson, Venturing Beyond, 186–315. On the other hand, the Kabbalah’sconception of human influence on the upper worlds through the fulfillment of command-ments often reinforced normative strictures and hypernomian conduct ðsee Fishman, “A Kab-balistic Perspective”Þ, not to mention the numerous hypernomian customs that the Kabbalahadded to the halakhic code; seeMosheHallamish,HaKabbalah BaHalakhah, BaTefillah UvaMinhag½Kabbalah in liturgy, Halakhah, and customs� ðRamat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 2000Þ.Furthermore, the Kabbalah has grown and developed since its beginnings, hand in hand withrabbinic tradition; Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism; Moshe Idel, Kabbalah: New Per-spectives ðNewHaven, CT: Yale University Press, 1988Þ, 130–32, and “Rabbinism versus Kabbalism:On G. Scholem’s Phenomenology of Judaism,”Modern Judaism 11, no. 3 ½1991�: 281–96. See alsoJonathan Garb, Shamanic Trance in Modern Kabbalah ðChicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011Þ,119–47. The Kabbalah’s presence in the intellectual atmosphere of Hungarian-Galician Hasi-dism, however, appears to be part of the question rather than part of the answer: why did theKabbalah remain vibrant particularly in these two areas, while most of the Hasidic movementturned to a “simple faith” without intellectual intricacies?

145 The fact that the first strong Hasidic court was established in Hungary only in 1815 couldlead us to surmise that the rebbes of this area stood somewhat apart from the development ofthe movement in its lands of origin. However, we cannot be sure of this explanation, either.Galicia was definitely a part of those lands, and some of it was, in fact, the cradle of Hasidismitself. Nevertheless, it developed a similar “two-faced” character. Furthermore, there is some


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more appropriate to introduce into our discussion more general explana-tions relating to the essential connection between zealous radicalism and an-tinomian radicalism. I will suggest two possible explanations, which do notpresume to conclude the discussion but rather to initiate it. The two expla-nations address different aspects: one deals with the individual phenomenol-ogy of the religious radical, the other with the social dynamics of radicalismwithin a traditional community. Thus, they do not exclude each other.The first explanation is based to a degree on the psychological profile of

the religious radical personality. Charles Liebman suggested that the religious“extremist”—moreor less equivalent to our “zealous-radical”—is the “religiousnorm,” the true and original model of religiosity, while the moderate or lib-eral forms of religiosity are only inevitable compromises thereof.146 In an il-luminating rebuttal, Albert Baumgarten counters this somewhat essentialistmodel, suggesting that the “normative” form of religion is the standard of ob-servance that is “commonandwidespread” at any given time andplace.147 Thisparticular set of norms determines the standard level of “sanctity” requiredfrom an individual in a particular culture. Radical ðor “extremist”Þ religiositywill be defined in relation to that norm, that is, as “the attempt of an individ-ual, individuals, or organized group to raise the bar of sanctity in their lives toa level that is higher than the one which is common and widespread in theirtime and place.”148 This can be done either by requiring more than the lawrequires ðhypernomianism, possibly including zealotryÞ or by violating the lawðantinomianismÞ.149 In the light of the Hungarian-Galician example, I wouldlike to suggest that these two poles should not necessarily be considered mu-tually exclusive. In fact, in spite of the clear differences between the zealousradical and the antinomian radical, they share several common characteris-tics: both to some degree challenge the authority of the socioreligious es-tablishment; both deviate from accepted social norms and consequently areoften perceived by others as strange; both view accepted religious norms asinsufficient and therefore seek to establish guidelines that exceed those ofreligious law, or at least its accepted interpretation. Indeed, even the zealousradical allows himself to deviate from the law in his attempt to preserve it andto rebel against the religious establishment in his attempt to defend it. In

146 Liebman, “Extremism as a Religious Norm,” 75–86. Liebman himself defines extremismin the summary of his article: “Relying on impressions from contemporary Judaism, extrem-ism is defined here as the desire to expand the scope, detail, and strictness of religious law;social isolation; and the rejection of the surrounding culture” ð75Þ.

147 Baumgarten, “LeIfyun HaKannaut HaDattit,” 47, 54.148 Ibid., 47.149 Ibid., 50–52, 55. Baumgarten adds: “In general, Judaism knows more cases of hyperno-

mian religious extremism, and Christianity—more cases of anti-nomian ones, but there areexceptions in both religions” ð52Þ.

evidence that in both of these “faces”—the zealous radical and the antinomian radical—it wasGalicia that preceded Hungary and probably influenced it, rather than the opposite.


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short, neither the ultra-Orthodox nor the unorthodox are “orthodox” in themainstream sense of the word.This comparison is even more apparent when we deal with “soft” anti-

nomianism, such as that of averah lishmah. In cases of “hard” antinomian-ism, the violation of the law is often an expression of freedom.150 The priv-ilege of “the religious adept who, having reached a certain stage of spiritualdevelopment or relationship with the deity, was at least in certain cases nolonger bound by particular moral strictures and could often increase hisspiritual understanding by deliberately transgressing moral rules.”151 In thecase of Hungarian-Galician Hasidism, this is definitely not the case. Averahlishmah is not imbued with notions of freedom but rather of duty: the reli-gious duty to act against the law when the circumstances require it. Nor isit aimed at reaching levels that transcend the norm ðthese notions did oc-cur in the descriptions of devekut in early Hasidism but not in the works wediscussedÞ but rather to override a lower norm with a higher one. In such asetting, the seemingly opposed forms of religious radicalism appear muchcloser to each other.This understanding may help us to understand recent developments in

the study of modern Jewish zealotry. While Jewish ultra-Orthodoxy is of-ten perceived as a monolithic entity identified only by its total negation ofand unrestrained battle against the forces of modernity, recently publishedresearches have shed new light on the phenomenon and present it withgreater complexity. For example, a recent study of the Hatam Sofer reflectsa personality that included a spiritual side in his halakhic rulings.152 Oneof his students, Rabbi Hayim Sofer ðthe Mahane HayimÞ, has been revealedto have had a complex approach that differentiates between a militant so-cioreligious ideology and a restrained approach to halakhic adjudication.153

Similarly, in the next generation, Rabbi Akiva Yosef Schlesinger, a discipleof the Hatam Sofer’s disciples, has of late been portrayed as a very richspiritual personality.154 These three personalities were non-Hasidic Hun-garian rabbis who had no antinomian tendencies in their teachings; theirzealous radicalism apparently never reached the levels of their Hasidic

150 Ibid., 51–52, and the references cited therein.151 AlexanderRiley, “‘RenegadeDurkheimianism’ and theTransgressive/Left Sacred,” inThe

Cambridge Companion to Durkheim, ed. Jeffrey C. Alexander and Philip Smith ðCambridge: Cam-bridge University Press, 2005Þ, 277. His analysis is based on Hubert andMausse, Hertz, and otherscited therein. See also Douglas A. Marshall, “Temptation, Tradition, and Taboo: A Theory ofSacralization,” Sociological Theory 28, no. 1 ðMarch 2010Þ: 64–90, esp. 71–72.

152 Maoz Kahana, “HeHatam Sofer: HaPosek BeEinei Atzmo” ½The Chatam Sofer: A deciderin his own eyes�, Tarbiz 76, nos. 3–4 ð2007Þ: 519–56.

153 Adam Ferziger, “Religious Zealotry and Religious Law: Rethinking Conflict and Co-existence,” Journal of Religion 84, no. 1 ð2004Þ: 48–77.

154 Michael K. Silber, “Spirituality, Gender, and Jewish Fundamentalism: The Dreamworldsof a Nineteenth-Century Ultra-Orthodox Couple,” lecture, Van Leer Institute of Jerusalem,April 9, 2010.


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counterparts. Nevertheless, they were zealous religious radicals. Alongsidetheir radicalism, they maintained other strands of religious expression thatwere potentially in tension with and potentially complementary to theirzealotry. Indeed, it seems that the demanding quality of zealous radicalismmust find balance, or a release of pressure, through alternative forms of re-ligious expression, which to some degree challenge the totality of preciselythat zealotry.A completely different explanation is one that examines the religious

radical phenomenon in its sociopolitical context. In a society such as that ofOrthodox Judaism, there is a process we can describe as the “Look Right!”syndrome. We can put it this way: If we draw a “ladder of religiosity” ða termsuggested by Gideon AranÞ—manifested in forms of halakhic strictness orideological extremism—the Orthodox Jew will usually be more concernedabout reactions from the “right” than reactions from the “left.”155 Extrem-ism is considered an expression of a “purer” worldview, while moderation isclassified as compromise and at times even as weakness that can be justifiedonly ex post facto but not ab initio.156 At first glance, this description mayresonate with Liebman’s theory but may fit just as well with Baumgarten’s:the zealous radical is perceived as attaining a higher level of sanctity andenjoys prestige precisely because he represents something that transcendsthe “norm.” This state of affairs results in a paradoxical situation in whichone who is on the right side of the spectrum, though he may be on theextreme fringe, is almost completely free of concerns such as “what will theothers say,” because there is nobody to his right. Thus, the most extreme“right winger” is allowed to perform deviant acts vis-a-vis the religious normand other religious institutions much more than his fellow coreligionistfrom the center of the spectrum, who is often more critical of those in-stitutions. It will suffice to cite one example, tangential to our topic: in theultra-Orthodox community in our time, the value of “faith in the sages,”according to which one must submit to religious authorities, has becomeone of its foremost principles. However, as Menachem Friedman pointedout, it is well known in that community that members of the ultra-extremistNeturei Karta may level aggressive criticism against high-ranking religiousauthorities without being subject to any sanction.157 Assuming that a similardynamic could also exist in nineteenth-century Hungary and Galicia, itwould explain why the most militant zealots in defense of the tradition, whowere unsurpassed in their extremism, continued to discuss sin for the sake

155 Gideon Aran, “On Religiosity and Super Religiosity (I): Measures of Radical Religion,”Numen: International Review for the History of Religions 60, nos. 2–3 ð2013Þ: 144–94.

156 Menachem Friedman, HaHevrah HaHaredit: Mekorot, Megamot VeTahalikhim ½The Harediðultra-OrthodoxÞ society: Sources, trends, and processes� ð Jerusalem: Jerusalem Institute forIsrael Studies, 1991Þ, 15.

157 Ibid., 92. See alsoMenachemFriedman, “ReligiousZealotry in Israeli Society,” inOnEthnicand Religious Diversity in Israel, ed. Solomon Poll and Ernest Krausz ðRamat Gan: Bar IlanUniversity Press, 1975Þ, 95–99.


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of Heaven, which they inherited from early Hasidism. Certainly, nobodycould accuse them of compromise or seeking leniency.The second explanation for the coexistence of the two types of religious

radicalism only explains how the “holy sinner” can exist in a zealous move-ment but not why he does exist in it. In other words, it explains why zealotrycan contain it but not what it needs it for. This question, however, interest-ing as it may be, is not pertinent to Hungarian and Galician Hasidism. Theydid not invent the idea of “sin for the sake of Heaven” but inherited it fromearlier Hasidism. It was because of their relative immunity to criticism “fromthe right” that they lacked any motivation to dispose of this doctrine as hadother sects of Hasidism. This may also explain the fact that in Hungary—ofall places!—Hasidism preserved some of its noninstitutional features.While both of these proposed explanations can explain why zealous rad-

icals were able to maintain the dangerous doctrine of averah lishmah, theydo not supply a sufficient answer to the question of why those very sameradicals suppressed other, less dangerous doctrines. If the zealots have theability, and sometimes themotivation, to contain antinomian elements, whydid they preserve the most extreme and dispose of the more moderateamong them? To this question, I admit, I have found no sufficient answer.In the course of this article we saw that the two forms of religious radi-

calism—the zealous and the ðsoftÞ antinomian—may coexist in spite of theprima facie tension between them, as the case of Hungarian and GalicianHasidism demonstrates very well. But our story will not be complete withoutpresenting the end of this coexistence, at least in our particular case study.Over the years, signs of antinomian radicalism disappeared from Hungarianand Galician Hasidism, while zealous radicalism was preserved and evensharpened. Thus, the son of the Yitav Lev, the Kdushas Yom-Tov, who diedat the beginning of the twentieth century, was still faithful to the doctrineof “sin for the sake of Heaven” but already emphasized that the personwho performs such a sin must first ensure that his intent is truly for sake ofHeaven, without any personal motivations; if not, he warns, “it is a trans-gression in the fullest sense, and he must repent the act in its entirety.”158 Itis clear that this qualification, which could hardly be found among the au-thor’s nineteenth-century predecessors, is intended to deter the reader fromturning the doctrine into practice. The Kdushas Yom Tov’s successful son,Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Szatmar ð1888–1979Þ, shunned it altogether.159

This development should not surprise us. As we have seen, this is the “nor-

158 By this principle, he explained, for example, the war waged by Abraham to save hisnephew Lot ðGen. 19:30–38Þ and the actions of Pinehas, who killed the prince of the tribe ofSimon for having sexual relations with a Midianite woman in public ðNum. 25:1–15Þ. SeeTeitelbaum, Kedushat Yom-Tov, omissions, 235b, Pinehas, 112c.

159 Rabbi Yoel mentions the idea of “sin for the sake of Heaven” a few times but generally inorder to warn against its abuses. See Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Szatmar, Divrei Yoel on the TorahðBrooklyn, NY: Nechmod, 1971–81Þ, vol. 2, Miketz, 361; vol. 6, Yitro, 20, and Emor, 281; vol. 9,Tetze, 125. A soft version of the doctrine nevertheless appears in the writings of another


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mal” line embraced by almost all other schools of Hasidism in the nineteenthcentury as part of their institutionalization and their struggle against mod-ernist movements. What should surprise us is the fact that it took place solate—at least two generations after Hungarian-Galician Hasidism adoptedthe zealous ultra-Orthodox response to modernity. This late developmentnotwithstanding, the very existence of the phenomenon of two-faced reli-gious radicalism in a long-standing tradition within the late Hasidic culturecertainly broadens our understanding of religious radicalism, in general,and in the ultra-Orthodox Jewish context, in particular.

branch of the Teitelbaum dynasty, Rabbi Yekutiel Yehuda ðZalman LeibÞ Halberstam of Sanz-Klausenburg. See Tamir Granot, “Tekumat HaHasidut BeEretz Israel Aharei HaShoah” ½Therevival of Hasidism in the land of Israel after the Holocaust� ðPhD diss., Bar Ilan University,2008Þ, 220–24.


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The Two Faces of Religious Radicalism - Orthodox Zealotry and Holy Sinning in Nineteenth Century...

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Transcript of The Two Faces of Religious Radicalism - Orthodox Zealotry and Holy Sinning in Nineteenth Century...