Every time that I have had the opportunity to meet one of the G’dolei Yisrael, it’s been an uplifting experience. The common denominator is that these great, busy people, who bear such immense responsibility and have to make such weighty decisions, somehow make time to make everyone feel special.
When I was a bachur, a few friends and I had the opportunity to accompany two of my rebbeim to meet Rav Ovadia Yosef in his home in Har Nof.
Before we left his home, we lined up to shake Rav Ovadia’s hand and to receive his brachah. As was his practice, he affectionately gave each of us a light potch on the cheek as he blessed us.
He did the same thing to my rebbeim afterwards. I found it somewhat amusing to see my rebbeim receive the same loving potch on the cheek as we did. In the presence of Rav Ovadia Yosef, my rebbi was a student just as I was.
We love our G’dolim, and we cherish our G’dolim.
We refer to them as “einei ha’eidah – the eyes of the nation” (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 1:15). They guide us and teach us what the Torah expects of us.
But just what constitutes a Gadol?
A few years ago, Rabbi Yaakov Hillel offered a facetious definition of G’dolim when he sharply stated:
“The posters and newspapers and mass media are ruling the world and ruling our mind. There is no daas Torah anymore. Often when people come from chutz la’aretz, they want me to write a letter in a sefer Torah and they come with three or four expert photographers, and they are snapping pictures. I tell the photographers, ‘In my eyes, you are as great as Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinski.’ They ask me, ‘What do you mean? You’re making fun of us.’ I explain to them: ‘When the Chazon Ish came to Eretz Yisrael, Rav Chaim Ozer sent a message: “The Gadol HaDor has arrived! The lion has ascended from Bavel!” Because of that, the Torah world began to view the Chazon Ish as the Gadol HaDor.
“‘But today, it’s all in the hands of the photographers. If your picture is in the papers and posted all over of you lighting a menorah, you’re a gadol ha’dor. Obviously, if you state a political opinion, then you become a Gadol Olam. And if you make a machlokes, then you are a gaon she’big’onim. We see this today. There are fools and ignoramuses who never opened a sefer in their lives, and they cause machlokes, and all of a sudden they are deciders of halachah, judges, and roshei yeshivos. This is what builds people today.
‘I’m not speaking about the real G’dolim. I’m speaking about the next generation of so-called g’dolim. If one of the show-business rabbis walks in, everyone stands up for them. I’m not even sure they are truly religious. The true G’dolim are not treated like anything anymore.’”
(Lecture entitled “The Tragedy in Meron,” posted on Torah Anytime)
Fascinatingly, in a New York Times article dated May 19, 1975, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein was asked how one becomes a Torah leader.
The article quotes that Rav Moshe replied that one doesn’t “achieve the heights of religious jurisprudence by appointment or election, but by recognition of his talents.
‘You can’t wake up in the morning and decide you’re an expert on answers,’ he said recently as disciples clustered round. “If people see that one answer is good, and, another answer is good, gradually you will be accepted.”
It seems a Gadol is one who is accepted as such by the masses.
However, these days, we seem to be swept away by the “miracle phenomena.” At our Shabbos table recently, my son-in-law asked me if I had heard of a certain rav in Eretz Yisrael who has a large following that seems to be growing exponentially. I replied that years ago I heard he was a tremendous scholar and was renowned for his insightful and well-attended shiurim. But more recently, when I see his name or picture, it’s connected with incredible stories of prophetic-like statements he made, or miraculous events that seem to have been influenced by him.
Sadly, we seem to define G’dolim as such by dint of how many and how incredible the miraculous stories people tell about them are. If there are no such stories making the rounds, he must not really be so great. If he was, he would obviously have more pull in the celestial spheres to make things happen.
But that is not our tradition. The Rambam (Hilchos Y’sodei HaTorah) writes that a prophet is determined by whether his prophecy – at least a positive prophecy – comes to fruition as he said it would. But the Rambam never writes that a Torah leader is determined by dint of the supernatural acts he generates. (In fact, the Rambam is reticent to speak about the supernatural.)
The pasuk in T’hilim praises Hashem, Who performed “osos u’mofsim b’admas b’nei Cham – miraculous signs and wonders in the lands of the Children of Cham.”
The Kotzker Rebbe quipped that the pasuk is also alluding to a tenet of our faith. Those who feel they need to witness miraculous signs and wonders, in order to believe, are from the lands of the Children of Cham. Miracle-based faith is not a Torah perspective.
Our faith is not the result of constant miracles and wonders. Rather, it is a matter of unbroken tradition and fierce loyalty to the Torah.
The Tolna Rebbe, Rabbi Yitzchak Menachem Weinberg, makes this point regarding brachos (Dibros Kodesh, Toldos 5782). People think that if the brachah of a tzadik isn’t fulfilled, it’s indicative that the tzadik isn’t really a tzadik. Only one who gives brachos that come true is hailed as a saintly miracle worker, automatically worthy of adulation and veneration.
The Tolna Rebbe explained that this is a tragic mistake. The effectiveness of brachos has to do with the level of the recipient’s faith and worthiness, and other factors that we aren’t privy to. (The Rebbe then connects this idea to the brachos of Yitzchak Avinu.)
We have to remember that righteousness is defined by…righteousness.
The supernatural wonders of a Gadol should refer to his supernatural sensitivity and selflessness, his uncompromising adherence to every facet and nuance of halachah, his love for Torah and for Hashem, and his uncanny devotion to his people.
I was recently reading an essay by my rebbi, Rabbi Berel Wein, in which Rabbi Wein was reflecting on Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman’s visit to America in 2005, when he was 91 years old.
As an example of Rav Shteinman’s incredible meticulousness in halachah, Rabbi Wein related that when Rav Shteinman was visiting the Skverer Rebbe, a bowl of fruit was set before him. Rav Shteinman recited a Borei Pri Ha’eitz and, to the surprise of those in attendance, ate only half of a grape.
When asked afterwards, Rav Shteinman explained that a grape is a beriah (a complete entity), and therefore eating a whole grape would create a doubt about whether he was obligated to recite a brachah acharonah.
Rabbi Wein is not one to wax poetic. That is an added reason why I found his reflections so moving:
“Is there anything more inspiring than to look at him and realize that here is a man who, at the age of 91, picked himself up and left his home for a two-week trip to foreign cities in order to inspire fellow Jews? Is there anything more inspiring than to realize that there really are people who do things without an agenda? Is it not inspiring to recognize that here in front of me is a man who is an exemplary eved Hashem, who came all the way here to inspire me?
“When you look at him and consider the fact that he is oblivious to the hubbub surrounding him, when you realize that despite the headlines announcing his visit, he himself will never come across his picture in the newspaper, you start thinking that it really is possible to be a good and modest person. It really is possible to be a good and ehrliche Jew. It really is possible to sit in your corner and learn Torah all day. It really is possible to live a life without luxuries and be content. It really is possible to never fight with anyone. It really is possible to never trample on anyone’s feelings and still get ahead in this world.
“When you look at him, talk to him, and hear him speak, you realize that he has no ulterior motive. You see that he has no agenda other than to be m’kadeish sheim Shamayim and to spur people on to do good.”
We have no dearth of stories of the greatness of our G’dolim. That is why we have a special brachah in Sh’moneh Esrei to pray for their welfare.
On a deeper level, it isn’t only a brachah for them, but also a brachah for us – that we recognize their greatness and have the wisdom and insight to learn not only from their teachings, but also from their living example.
Rabbi Dani Staum is a popular speaker, columnist, and author. He is a rebbi in Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, New Jersey, principal of Mesivta Orchos Yosher in Spring Valley, New York, and a member of the administration of Camp Dora Golding. His writings can be found at strivinghigher.com. Looking for an inspirational speaker or scholar-in-residence? Contact Rabbi Staum at 845-641-5094 or at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..