Bimah Bearers
Every time there was a guest speaker, a Rabbi from abroad perhaps, we would hear that sound. It is strange, that one sound could instill fear, boredom, joy and dread, depending on context.
The term-opening speech by the dean for example, now that was a speech scheduled long in advance. Although it was formally known as “The Speech by the Dean”, the dean never gave it. For effect it had to be a speech by someone other than the dean. The dean spoke every week and his speeches were as evocative as a mother’s lullaby, perfect for getting us to slip into a sweet midday nap.
It was Reb Menashe, the Maggid Shuir, the lecturer for the fifteen-year-olds. He never spoke to us older boys, but we had the utmost respect for him. He was one dedicated soldier, he loved torah and prayer; how could we not respect him? His term-opening speech, well, that was another matter. It enraged me actually. When in our hearts there were but the best of intentions, we did not need to be reminded of our tendency to slack.
Two burly boys, dressed in those coats that we all wore, that soulless “chalat,” a black cloak almost disposable and without form or body, were the “bimah bearers”. They were never designated as such, but oddly, somehow those two would end up dragging that heavy wooden box across the main Yeshiva study hall floor.
For the duration of their short but cumbersome toil, a deep vibration, its sound resonating within that heavy wooden cube with a slanted top would encapsulate the room. This is the sound that I speak of. It is the beckoning call of the bimah box.
The “bimah bearers” were causing a racket completely out of place today, and we had no idea why. Something was amiss. The lecturers stood huddled together mumbling anxiously amongst themselves while the bimah was on the move.
I stood at my table, my very own table all to myself, perfectly positioned, centre back. It was right after prayer time. The air was alive with anticipation.
With the bimah in place and with every student seated, the door opened. Reb Leib. He was not a member of staff, no. He was the towering president of the whole Kehilla. I had seen my father shudder when they crossed paths.
Reb Leib walked slowly towards the about-turned bimah, and stood to face a fearful crowd.
There was no book on the lectern. He gazed around the room glaring at us for a whole minute. If my own heart was not thumping within my chest with such vigor, I am sure I would have heard the many palpitions of fear, as hearts around the room knocked against ribcages.
“Desecration, desecration. Desecration of God’s name, of his honour. Desecration of our Rebbe, of our institutions,” he said slowly and quietly. “In your midst, within this Yeshiva, there is a traitor. An apikores, a heretic. An apikores, a heretic,” he repeated, his manner portraying a deafening shout, despite the fact that his voice remained completely un-elevated.
“He says things that no Jew would ever say. He masquerades and mingles among us abusing our hospitality for his own comfort.”
He paused again and waited for a while listening to the silence within the room.
“Distortion, distortion. Of our torah, of our laws, of our holy mission, and of our purpose. You are here in this room, and we will find you. We will search for you and we will weed you out from amongst our tribe. We will use whatever means at our disposal, and find you we will.”
Reb Liebel said the twelfth blessing of the Amidah, pronouncing each curse slowly and purposefully but with utmost intensity and left the hall in leisurely pace.
Shocked to the core we all were, and remained still for a while after he had left. I hear a disturbing noise. It is my alarm clock, and I awake from my slumber.
Printable Version
I call B.S. No rosh hakohol cares about you, Pen.
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Hersh, oh I agree whole heartedly. But do read before you comment.
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nice piece!!!
@ admin, a like button on the post would have been great for people like me who have got nothing to add except that they like it…
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nicely done!
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I was going to say “in your dreams”.
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For the benefit of those who haven’t seen it yet, here is the Jewish Chronicle article alluded to in the post:
The Chasidic blogger who doesn’t believe in God
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Pen, I think your essay would have been richer if you added more color if why the speaker would say this about you (imagine that this is the first essay by you that I’m reading). Also would have more impact if you’d cited the twelfth blessing.
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Oh, HR, I’m reminiscing how your blog looked the week you were profiled in the NYC media.
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I did want to do that, but I simply could not find a good on-line translation of תעקר ותשבר ותמגר ותכלם ותכניעם ותשפילם.
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Within the different chasidishe communities, there seems to be a rather larger gap in this regard than meets the eye.
I have never, and I repeat, never ever felt anything remotely resembling what the writer describes in this article. Such a palpaable fright? A president of a kehillah who instills such a fear in the community’s adults? I do not recognise that. Even after allowing for some writer’s ——— ( what word belongs here, remind me, please! I am on a mobile device) it is still way out of the park. Maybe that is the essence of the Great Boro Park/ Willy divide.
The way I would describe it, is not so much as dread, rather a belief that things are a certain way as if those are facts “halacha lemoishe misinai” (figuratively, not literally), and should it even dawn on you that things might perhaps not be so black on white, you are beyond the pale. But not as in fear, it is more like peer pressure, of one’s social circle.
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Kaf, Yeshiva boys do sometimes feel tangible fear and dread. No?
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So I am not the only one who has such illogical and dreadful Yeshivah flashbacks during REM sleep.
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Fear and dread? The only times I have felt something like that was when being called into the menahel’s office for some big chutzpah that I just committed, or the likes. Which I think is totally acceptable. I have felt the same way when I was changing a tire on my car, and the car rolled off the jack, crashing and landing on the brake discs. I thought that I just killed my car, with thousands of dollars of damage.
But ever since I “matured”, I have learned not to take anything to serious, and my attitude is, “gam zee latoivah”, or in secular parlance, “whatever happens happens.”
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Kaf, it may depend upon the institution that one attended. I am not saying that the imposition of fear within the Yeshiva is something that occurs in every yeshiva on a regular basis.
However there are a few of “the best” Yeshiva institutions that do really use fear, dread and punishment as a modus operandi.
Martin, I wonder how many more between the Unpious dream that they are back with dread in the Yeshiva from time to time. I know that we are not the only ones.
Where are the in-house shrinks when you need them.
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Pen, do you think there is some legitimacy to my conjecture that might have something to do with the Boro Park/ Willy divide? I mean the two different pedagogical schools, not the actual physical locations.
I actually have a recurring dream in where I find myself back in yeshiva in Israel. I miss those days, I really learned well then.
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This article brought back memories from when I was in Yeshiva. My mashgiach used to talk like that and the bucherim would feel an enormous fear in that matzev.
I think the divide is between bucherim and married people. Most bucherim do feel that dread and fear when being called up by the mashgiach or magid shiur, even just for being late to shachris. I am not sure where you are from kafhakela, but many of us would totally understand the emotions in this piece.
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I can relate to the — not quite dread, but certainly intimidation — of listening to a particularly harsh speech given by a Menahel or Rosh Yeshiva. One Rosh Yeshiva, when I was fourteen, was particularly known for his fiery oratory, and the bucherim half looked forward, half dreaded those occasions.
One incident with this particular Rosh Yeshiva provided amusing banter for the weeks thereafter. He discovered a few empty soiled bowls in an abandoned room that were used by a few bucherim for a late-night sour-cream and strawberries snack. Outraged, he held a fiery speech on decorum and etiquette — termed as mentchlichkeit, of course, and the rules of vus past far a chasidishe bucher. Not knowing who the culprit was, he raged: “Zeit fressen frest zich hut zich nuch nisht gefressen aza fresser.” Needless to say, it became the catchphrase of the year.
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“Zeit fressen frest zich hut zich nuch nisht gefressen aza fresser.”
Catchphrase of the year? It’s thr catchphraze of the century. Genius. Its my new signature.
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We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Surprisingly, fear seems something worth to fear over.
Beautiful, as usual.
It’s palpitation, I think.
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“Zeit fressen frest zich hut zich nuch nisht gefressen aza fresser.”
Gotta put that into the book of toungue twisters.
By the way, shouldn’t it be “hut zich nuch nisht gefressin azah fresserei”?
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Kaf — he was referring to the specific unknown “fresser”.
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Catchphrase of the year? It’s the catchphraze of the century. Genius. Its my new signature.
My thoughts exactly, HR you are selling the guy short. Unless of course, he came up with a better one which superseded this one.
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Pen, do you think there is some legitimacy to my conjecture that might have something to do with the Boro Park/ Willy divide?
I wouldn’t have a clue, but I think you are right that Yeshiva’s are for the most part although often enough absolutely dreadful, more democratic. But there still are a few really scary “good” yeshiva’s scattered around God’s earth who still subject their students to spot-checks and even physical violence on rare occasions.
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Mr Miss Yavni, would you kindly lift your proverbial quill and pen us another of your vignettes.
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Very evocative and chilling.
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Great!
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Pen
“I wouldn’t have a clue, but I think you are right that Yeshiva’s are for the most part although often enough absolutely dreadful, more democratic. But there still are a few really scary “good” yeshiva’s scattered around God’s earth who still subject their students to spot-checks and even physical violence on rare occasions.”
I don’t know about spot checks and physical violence, but are definitely two types of Yeshivot.
There seems to be a cultural and ethnical split in the structure and mission of the yeshivah between the Russian/ Lithuanian yeshivot and the Hungarian/ Chasiddish yeshivot, which has profound implications on the amount of freedom and autonomy allowed to the students.
I have attended chasidish/ Hungarian yeshivot and Lithuanian /Misnagdi yeshivot. It’s readily apparent that the Lithuanian student is given a lot more freedom in his personal life and in his studies. The chassidish configuration of the yeshivah is completely structured, overbearing, and restrictive in its operations and procedures.
Historically speaking it has been this way for eons, since the dawn of the great academies for learning in the mid 19th century. If you dabble a little in the history of the great Lithuanian institutions for torah, it’s quite noticeable that to a great extent the student body had a decisive and profound say in the day to day matters pertaining to the organization, administration, mission, and execution of the yeshivah’s goals. While on the other hand the Hungarian Yeshivot that were mold in the cast set forth by the Khatam Sofer and his disciples were very much “figure head” oriented; they were set up with hierarchical positioning, and the power of decision on all matters (significant or insignificant) ultimately rested in the hands of the Dean-Rosh Hayeshivah. In short, the Lithuanian Yeshivot seemed to have a system of checks and balances; the students had some legislative powers, the dean and faculty didn’t have a free hand to rule as they pleased, they had to be quite tentative and considerate to the atmosphere and temperament that reigned between the walls of the study hall. Forcefulness and coercion was almost unheard of in the great academies, neither pertaining to study and academics, nor to personal conduct and general behavior.
There were many cases where the ruling body of the Lithuanian Yehsivah tried to enforce certain rules and principles and they were usually met with staunch opposition by the students. In some severe cases there were even full blown student revolts where the Yeshivot had to close down for some time to qualm the uprising. Never was the democratic atmosphere, which seemingly reigned in the Lithuanian yeshivot, more apparent than at the introduction of the Mussar regimen into the academic repertoire of the Yeshivah. There were full blown student uprisings in the big yeshivot. Valohzin, Mir, Slabodkeh, Grodneh all had student revolts, and (to show the power of the students) they won out in most cases. They refused to have Mussar as part of the academic requirements and they succeeded in squashing the efforts of the faculty to incorporate Mussar.
Whilst in the Hungarian yeshivot the students had no say in the administration and configuration of the yeshivah. There was no personal freedom and no liberty or rights granted to the students. There were never student provocations, nevertheless protests or probes, at the ruling authorities. The Rushey Yeshivah were little dictators; they had full and complete control and the ruled with unrestrained hands.
It could be said that the fundamental differences in the structure of the Hungarian and Lithuanian yeshivot lies in the ultimate goal the yeshivah has at its forefront. The mission of the Lithuanian yeshivah is to produce Torah scholars; that is their mission statement, everything else is sort of secondary. In a sense it even precedes the mission to foster, generate and instill yirat shamayim (fear of heaven) in the hearts of the pupils. Conversely, the mission of the Hungarian/ Chassidish Yeshivot was, and still is, to raise a God fearing and Jewish generation. Understandably, if the main mission is academics a sufficient amount of freedom is needed to achieve that goal. There needs to be intellectual freedom and serenity to foster academic accomplishments and achievements. In a stressful and coercive environment little intellectual ingenuity and creativity can be expected. It could very well be that the free academic spirit that predominant in the Lithuanian yeshivah ultimately made its way in to the organizational and administrative properties of the yeshivah. On the other hand the Hungarian yeshivah, to accomplish their goal needed precisely the opposite. Freedom and independence are venomous and counteractive if the goal is to create a God fearing Jew. In accordance with their mission the staff and ruling party couldn’t leave any room for personal expression and self rule.
There is no better example to show the fundamental difference in structure of the yeshivot than to understand the role of the Mashgiach. In the chassidsh yeshivah the mashgiachs job description is watch dog and tormentor. He is the one that rails, apprehends, and belittles, the students. He usually doubles as detective and interrogator too. In the Lithuanian Yeshivah the before mentioned position doesn’t exist. First, the mashgiach is seen as a contemporary not overmaster. Second, his role closely resembles the school psychologist seen in secular institutions. He is supposed to be sensitive to the emotional and spiritual needs of the students, and in many cases that is true. There are some real good characters past and present that served the mashgiach role in Lithuanian yeshivot.
P.S. the differences in yeshivot are mostly noticeable in the higher academy (bais medrash). In the lower academy (mesivtah) the yeshivot are pretty similar in structure.
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I think the phrase “Zeit fressen frest zich hut zich nuch nisht gefressen aza fresser.” is inspired by the song “essen est zich, fressen frest zich, vus zol men tun az es lernet zich nist”
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This article reminded me of my first year in Yeshiva Ketana. I pictured myself sitting there and going through exactly what you described. These speeches were very dreadful. Full of curses and punishments for those who don’t obey the laws.
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