The Mussar Dispute
Rav Yisrael Salanter wrote to Volozhin, the flagship yeshiva of the yeshiva movement. He offered the Netziv his services as a mashgiach ruchani. The Netziv said that he was welcome to come, but if Rav Yisrael came, the Netziv would have to leave. Rav Yisrael Salanter was a brilliant talmudist and overqualified for the job, but the Netziv felt he couldn’t operate in the same institution as Mussar.
Rav Yisrael’s student, Rav Itzele Petersburger, similarly offered in 1881. R’ Nasan Kamentzky weaves together three versions of the story to create a single plausible narrative about how his offer was received (starts at about 87 min in on this recording).
Rav Nechamiah Goldberg tells that while Rav Izele was turned down, he did get permission to give a mussar shmuess. The thrust of that talk was based on the thought from our sages that Hashem created the yeitzer hara and He created an antidote — Torah. Rav Itzele explained that the Torah cures us of evil desires the way a segulah cures a sick person. The person must perform the act or recite the text exactly, and if the segulah is to say it 7 times, there will be absolutely no effect if he only says it six. Similarly, in order for Torah to fight the yeitzer hara, it most be studied perfectly lishmah, with pure motive and no distractions. Mussar, however, is like medicine. Even if you do not follow instructions perfectly, it will still work. Not as well, but there is still improvement. Thus, unless you are already capable of perfect Torah study, Mussar is the appropriate solution to the problem of yeitzer hara. R’ Chaim Brisker, who also taught at Volozhin at the time, was sitting near the exit. As Rav Izele left the room after his talk, Rav Chaim told him, “So mussar is for someone who is sick, but we in Volozhin aren’t ill!”
R JB Solovetchik, in Ish haHalakhah, quotes Rav Itzele Petersburger using a different idea from our sages. There is no reason to believe he didn’t actually used both, or that they are quoting the same talk. The gemara advises: If the yeitzer hara comes upon you, sent the yeitzer hatov after it. If that succeeds, good; if not, learn Torah. If that works, good; if not say, say qeri’as shema. If that works, good; if not, remember the day of death. So you see that the final, most effective way to win out over the yeitzer hara is qeri’as shema and remembering the day of death — Mussar, not Torah study! Rav Chaim Brisker (R’ Soloveitchik’s grandfather) replied that the study of Mussar is listed is a last choice because Mussar is like castor oil — for sick people it cures, but if you don’t need it — it’s sickening! A healthy person would not need to get bayond learning Torah to vanquish his inclination.
The third version: When the Netziv found out the purpose of Rav Itzele’s visit, he expelled him from Volozhin. One detail found in Dov Katz’s Pulmus haMussar (The Mussar Dispute) that R’ Kamentzky did not retell is that students from the yeshiva bodily carried R’ Itzele Petersburger out of the building. Either this too could have been a different visit, or perhaps continues the story after the above conversation.
Where did this split come from? After all, R’ Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin, the Netziv, was married to Rav Chaim Volzhiner’s granddaughter, Rav Yitzchaq Volzhiner’s daughter. He inherited the yeshiva from them. Clearly he represented a tradition from Rav Chaim Volozhiner. On the other hand, Rav Yisrael Salanter was publicizing the version of Judaism he learned from Rav Zundel Salanter, who in turn was a student of the very same Rav Chaim Volozhiner! How did their two traditions diverge, and what exactly was the original point of conflict?
One can say that what happened was that Rav Chaim’s successors in Volozhin took to heart the fourth section, and therefore they pulled Volozhin to ever more exclusively focus on total immersion intellectually in Torah. (Along the way, his rebbe‘s title changed from haGaon haChassid Rav Eliyahu miVilna to just the Vilna Gaon — mentioning his brilliance in Torah, but omitting his chassidus.) The Yeshiva Movement reads Nefesh haChaim as having 3 sections discussing the value and power of the soul, and how to develop yir’ah so that one can understand the sanctifying aspect of immersion in Torah.
Meanwhile, R’ Chaim Volozhiner’s pupil, R’ Zundel Salanter, placed more emphasis on the lessons captured in the first three sections. And so, when he spotted young Yisrael Lipkin — the future Rav Yisrael Salanter, father of the Mussar Movement — spying on his private spiritual exercises in the woods, Rav Zundel yelled out to him, “Yisrael, lern mussar zal tzuzain a yarei Shamayim!” (Yisrael, learn mussar so that you can be one who feels the awe of heaven!”) A call to work directly on one’s middos in order to live a life of yir’ah; not a reliance on metaphysical effects of immersion in talmudic dialectic. According to Mussar’s understanding, the book is about internalizing the Torah’s values. To achieve this, one must develop the soul and yir’ah and only then one’s Torah can be retained within one’s being.
(Please do not take either of the previous two paragraphs as caricatures, all-or-nothing contrasts.)
In the next post I hope to explore the text. But in the meantime, I want to note that this phenomenon is common. It explains the diversity of paths attributed to the Vilna Gaon, the varieties of Chassidus produced by the Baal Shem Tov’s students, and their students, the different schools of Mussar, the different takes of Rav Kook’s teachings among different communities of followers, or more recently the various very different takes on how to continue R’ JB Soloveitchik and the approach to life he taught.
In each case, the mentor was a brilliant, complex, and subtle thinker. So much so, that the students only had the capacity to relate to part of the mentor’s message and connect to it. They accurately see the rebbe, but only a much as they can hold. And so, like the blind men’s description of the elephant, the results diverge. But each is accurately teaching a way the rest of us can understand the original message.
There definitely is a disconnect today between the Yeshiva world and the (necessary) proper study of Mussar. A recent anecdote highlights this issue: http://loveisthemotive.blogspot.com/2011/08/waitaminute-mussar-works.html
@Shmuel: I just looked at the blog post you linked to. I had no idea that there were portions of the American chareidi world that were so disconnected from, and distrusting of, mussar. But then, I live in an “out of town” chareidi-leaning community in which (1) the moreh d’asra of my shul and the rebbeim of the local mesivta are all musmachim of the Chafetz Chaim yeshiva, and (2) a local chareidi kiruv rabbi with whom I am close is a talmid of R’ Reuven Leuchter, a talmid of R’ Wolbe zt”l. So I guess my perspective of what I perceive to be trends within the larger chareidi world might be a little off-target…
Where do you live? I want to move there.
@Eli: email me at email@example.com
You wrote, “Rav Itzele explained that the Torah cures us of evil desires the way a segulah cures a sick person. The person must perform the act or recite the text exactly, and if the segulah is to say it 7 times, there will be absolutely no effect if he only says it six.”
I find it hard to believe that Rav Itzele said that “a segulah cures a sick person.” What is the basis for this assertion? The Litvishe Derech has always been to avoid things like this.
I didn’t just write that, I pointed you to where you can hear R’ Nasan Kamenetzky say so. R’ Nechemia Goldberg believed so as well.
I think it’s more accurate to say that in Lita, they would tell you it’s bad Judaism to chase a segulah, but they did not all agree about whether or not segulos actually work.
And in either case, they would discuss the gemara’s medical segulos as though they worked, regardless.
Taking the analogy at face value, am I then to deduce that it is “bad Judaism” to think that the “Torah cures us of evil desires”?
Yes, you gave a source, but as they say, not all sources are correct.
I have no idea what your analogy means. (In any case, Rava says that Torah can be used to cure yourself of evil, but it can be abused as well. “If to the right, it is a ‘sam hachaim’; if to the left, it is a ‘sam hamaves’.”)
In any case, I spoke of the distinction between believing that segulos don’t work and believing segulos shouldn’t be used. Lita is quite clear on the latter — using segulos as magic spells is bad religion.
But belief that they necessarily don’t work even if one did try using one? I don’t think there is a single Litvisher opinion on that one. Remember, Lita had its share of mequbalim — the Gra, Rav Chaim and R’ Yizchaq Volozhiner, the Leshem, Rav AY Kook…
I trust the author of Making of a Gadol’s opinion of what was normal belief in pre-war Lita. He isn’t one to rewrite history to fit preconception.
Well said. This tendentious, and unfortunately common, rewriting of history is tiresome. By the way, you might think it’s done by mistake; it’s not. It’s often an intentional advocacy of a personal stance.